Havoc

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE WAITER AT THE "BLACK POST"

  Laverick, notwithstanding that the hour was becoming late, found anoutfitter's shop in the Strand still open, and made such purchasesas he could on Morrison's behalf. Then, with the bag ready packed,he returned to his rooms. Time had passed quickly during the lastthree hours. It was nearly nine o'clock when he stepped out of thelift and opened the door of his small suite of rooms with thelatchkey which hung from his chain. He began to change his clothesmechanically, and he had nearly finished when the telephone bellupon his table rang.

  "Who's that?" he asked, taking up the receiver.

  "Hall-porter, sir," was the answer. "Person here wishes to see youparticularly."

  "A person!" Laverick repeated. "Man or woman?"

  "Man, sir.

  "Better send him up," Laverick ordered.

  "He's a seedy-looking lot, sir," the porter explained "I told himthat I scarcely thought you'd see him."

  "Never mind," Laverick answered. "I can soon get rid of the fellowif he's cadging."

  He went back to his room and finished fastening his tie. His ownaffairs had sunk a little into the background lately, but theannouncement of this unusual visitor brought them back into hismind with a rush. Notwithstanding his iron nerves, his fingersshook as he drew on his dinner-jacket and walked out to thepassageway to answer the bell which rang a few seconds later. Aman stood outside, dressed in shabby black clothes, whose facesomehow was familiar to him, although he could not, for the moment,place it.

  "Do you want to see me?" Laverick asked.

  "If you please, Mr. Laverick," the man replied, "if you could spareme just a moment."

  "You had better come inside, then," Laverick said, closing the doorand preceding the way into the sitting-room. At any rate, therewas nothing threatening about the appearance of this visitor--noranything official.

  "I have taken the liberty of coming, sir," the man announced, "toask you if you can tell me where I can find Mr. Arthur Morrison."

  Laverick's face showed no sign of his relief. What he felt hesucceeded in keeping to himself.

  "You mean Morrison--my partner, I suppose?" he answered.

  "If you please, sir," the man admitted. "I wanted a word or twowith him most particular. I found out his address from thecaretaker of your office, but he don't seem to have been home tohis rooms at all last night, and they know nothing about him there."

  "Your face seems familiar to me," Laverick remarked. "Where do youcome from?"

  The man hesitated.

  "I am the waiter, sir, at the 'Black Post,'--little bar andrestaurant, you know," he added, "just behind your offices, sir,at the end of Crooked Friars' Alley. You've been in once ortwice, Mr. Laverick, I think. Mr. Morrison's a regular customer.He comes in for a drink most mornings."

  Laverick nodded.

  "I knew I'd seen your face somewhere," he said. "What do you wantwith Mr. Morrison?"

  The man was silent. He twirled his hat and looked embarrassed.

  "It's a matter I shouldn't like to mention to any one except Mr.Morrison himself, sir," he declared finally. "If you could put mein the way of seeing him, I'd be glad. I may say that it would beto his advantage, too."

  Laverick was thoughtful for a moment.

  "As it happens, that's a little difficult," he explained. "Mr.Morrison and I disagreed on a matter of business last night. Iundertook certain responsibilities which he should have shared,and he arranged to leave the firm and the country at once. Weparted--well, not exactly the best of friends. I am afraid Icannot give you any information."

  "You haven't seen him since then, sir?" the man asked.

  Laverick lied promptly but he lied badly. His visitor was not inthe least convinced.

  "I am afraid I haven't made myself quite plain, sir," he said."It's to do him a bit o' good that I'm here. I'm not wishing himany harm at all. On the contrary, it's a great deal more to hisadvantage to see me than it will be mine to find him."

  "I think," Laverick suggested, "that you had better be frank withme. Supposing I knew where to catch Morrison before he left thecountry, I could easily deal with you on his behalf."

  The man looked doubtful.

  "You see, sir," he replied awkwardly, "it's a matter I wouldn'tlike to breathe a word about to any one but Mr. Morrison himself.It's--it's a bit serious."

  The man's face gave weight to his words. Curiously enough, thegleam of terror which Laverick caught in his white face remindedhim of a similar look which he had seen in Morrison's eyes barelyan hour ago. To gain time, Laverick moved across the room, tooka cigarette from a box and lit it. A conviction was formingitself in his mind. There was something definite behind thesehysterical paroxysms of his late partner, something of which thisman had an inkling.

  "Look here," he said, throwing himself into an easychair, "I thinkyou had better be frank with me. I must know more than I know atpresent before I help you to find Morrison, even if he is to befound. We didn't part very good friends, but I'm his friendenough--for the sake of others," he added, after a moment's hesitation,"to do all that I could to help him out of any difficulty he mayhave stumbled into. So you see that so far as anything you may haveto say to him is concerned, I think you might as well say it to me."

  "You couldn't see your way, then, sir," the man continued doggedly,"to tell me where I could find Mr. Morrison himself?"

  "No, I couldn't," Laverick decided. "Even if I knew exactly wherehe was--and I'm not admitting that--I couldn't put you in touchwith him unless I knew what your business was."

  The man's eyes gleamed. He was a typical waiter--pasty-faced,unwholesome-looking--but he had small eyes of a greenish cast, andthey were expressive.

  "I think, sir," he said, "you've some idea yourself, then, that Mr.Morrison has been getting into a bit of trouble."

  "We won't discuss that," Laverick answered. "You must either goaway--it's past nine o'clock and I haven't had my dinner yet--oryou must treat me as you would Mr. Morrison."

  The man looked upon the carpet for several moments.

  "Very well, sir," he said, "there's no great reason why I should putmyself out about this at all. The only thing is--"

  He hesitated.

  "Well, go on," Laverick said encouragingly.

  "I think," the man continued, "that Mr. Morrison--knowing, as Iwell do, sir, the sort of gent he is--would be more likely to talkcommon sense with me about this matter than you, sir."

  "I'll imagine I'm Morrison, for the moment," Laverick said smiling,"especially as I'm acting for him."

  The man looked around the room. The door behind had been left ajar.He stepped backward and closed it.

  "You'll pardon the liberty, sir," he said, "but this is a seriousmatter I'm going to speak about. I'll just tell you a little thingand you can form your own conclusions. Last night we was open lateat the 'Black Post.' We keep open, sir, as you know, when yougentlemen at the Stock Exchange are busy. About nine o'clock therewas a strange customer came in. He had two drinks and he sat asthough he were waiting. In about 'arf-an-hour another gent came in,and they went into a corner together and seemed to be doing some sortof business. Anyways, there was papers passed between them. I wasfairly busy about then, as there were one or two more customers inthe place, but I noticed these two talking together, and I noticedthe dark gentleman leave. The others went out a few minutesafterwards, and the gent who had come first was alone in the place.He sat in the corner and he had a pocket-book on the table beforehim. I had a sort of casual glance at it when I brought him a drink,and it seemed to me that it was full of bank-notes. He sat therejust like a man extra deep in thought. Just after eleven, in cameMr. Morrison. I could see he was rare and put out, for he was white,and shaking all over. 'Give me a drink, Jim,' he said,--'a bigbrandy and soda, big as you make 'em."'

  The man paused for a moment as though to collect himself. Laverickwas suddenly conscious of a strange thrill creeping
through hispulses.

  "Go on," he said. "That was after he left me. Go on."

  "He was quite close to the other gent, Mr. Morrison was," the waitercontinued, "but they didn't say nowt to each other. All of a suddenI see Mr. Morrison set down his glass and stare at the other chapas though he'd seen something that had given him a turn. I leanedover the counter and had a look, too. There he sat--this tall,fair chap who had been in the place so long--with his bigpocket-book on the table in front of him, and even from where I wasI could see that there was a great pile of bank-notes sticking outfrom it. All of a sudden he looks up and sees Mr. Morrisona-watching him and me from behind the counter. Back he whisks thepocket-book into his pocket, calls me for my bill, gives me twomouldy pennies for a tip, buttons up his coat and walks out."

  "You know who he was?" Laverick inquired.

  Again the waiter paused for a moment before he answered--pausedand looked nervously around the room. His voice shook.

  "He was the man as was murdered about a hundred yards off the'Black Post' last night, sir," he said.

  "How do you know?" Laverick asked.

  "I got an hour off to-day," the waiter continued, "and went down tothe Mortuary. There was no doubt about it. There he was--samechap, same clothes. I could swear to him anywhere, and I reckonI'll have to at the inquest."

  Laverick's cigarette burned away between his fingers. It seemed tohim that he was no longer in the room. He was listening to BigBen striking the hour, he was back again in that tiny little bedroomwith its spotless sheets and lace curtains. The man on the bed waslooking at him. Laverick remembered the look and shivered.

  "What has this to do with Morrison?" he demanded.

  Once more the waiter looked around in that half mysterious, halfterrified way.

  "Mr. Morrison, sir," he said, dropping his voice to a hoarse whisper,"he followed the other chap out within thirty seconds. A sort ofqueer look he'd got in his face too, and he went out without payingme. I've read the papers pretty careful, sir," the man went on,"but I ain't seen no word of that pocket-book of bank-notes beingfound on the man as was murdered."

  Laverick threw the end of his burning cigarette away. He walked tothe window, keeping his back deliberately turned on his visitor.His eyes followed the glittering arc of lights which fringed theThames Embankment, were caught by the flaring sky-sign on the otherside of the river. He felt his heart beating with unaccustomed vigor.Was this, then, the secret of Morrison's terror? He wondered nolonger at his collapse. The terror was upon him, too. He felt hisforehead, and his hand, when he drew it away, was wet. It was notMorrison alone but he himself who might be implicated in this man'sknowledge. The thoughts flitted through his brain like parts of anightmare. He saw Morrison arrested, he saw the whole story of themissing pocket-book in the papers, he imagined his bank managerreading it and thinking of that parcel of mysterious bank-notesdeposited in his keeping on the morning after the tragedy...Laverick was a strong man, and his moment of weakness, poignantthough it had been, passed. This was no new thing with which hewas confronted. All the time he had known that the probabilitieswere in favor of such a discovery. He set his teeth and turned toface his visitor.

  "This is a very serious thing which you have told me," he said."Have you spoken about it to any one else?"

  "Not a soul, sir," the man answered. "I thought it best to have aword or two first with Mr. Morrison."

  "You were thinking of attending the inquest," Laverick saidthoughtfully. "The police would thank you for your evidence, andthere, I suppose, the matter would end."

  "You've hit it precisely, sir," the man admitted. "There the matterwould end."

  "On the other hand," Laverick continued, speaking as though he werereasoning this matter out to himself, "supposing you decided not tomeddle in an affair which does not concern you, supposing you werenot sure as to the identity of your customer last night, and beinga little tired you could not rightly remember whether Mr. Morrisoncalled in for a drink or not, and so, to cut the matter short, youdismissed the whole matter from your mind and let the inquest takeits own course,--Laverick paused. His visitor scratched the sideof his chin and nodded.

  "You've put this matter plainly, sir," he said, "in what I call anunderstandable, straightforward way. I'm a poor man--I've been apoor man all my life--and I've never seed a chance before ofgetting away from it. I see one now."

  "You want to do the best you can for yourself?"

  "So 'elp me God, sir, I do!" the man agreed.

  Laverick nodded.

  "You have done a remarkably wise thing," he said, "in coming to meand in telling me about this affair. The idea of connecting Mr.Morrison with the murder would, of course, be ridiculous, but, onthe other hand, it would be very disagreeable to him to have hisname mentioned in connection with it. You have behaved discreetly,and you have done Mr. Morrison a service in trying to find him out.You will do him a further service by adopting the second course Isuggested with regard to the inquest. What do you consider thatservice is worth?"

  "It depends, sir," the man answered quietly, "at what price Mr.Morrison values his life!"