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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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"WELL, I've always been led to believe that there is a use for everything—human, animal, insect, or vegetable—in the world, but it's a mystery to me how monkeys can be any good, said Mr. Smiler Bunn to his partner, Lord Fortworth, one morning when they were looking through the zoo. "They, aren't handsome and they don't do anything, and they ain't eatable."
Fortworth laughed and with his stick carelessly prodded in the back a small, busy, green-faced ape, who promptly transferred himself to the roof of the cage in two swift clutches, and, hanging on with one hind hand, surrounded himself with a haze of language as unprintable as it was energetic..
"I don't know. I've heard that they eat 'em in some parts of the world," said the ex-Baron hazily. "Certain kinds are said to be eatable!"
"Well, perhaps so—perhaps so," said Mr. Bunn. "They may be eatable, but they ain't appetising. And any nation that would insult their stomachs with monkey will never become a Power—not in the sense that Eng!and or Germany is. Now, a nice joint off of some of those antelopes and deer we've seen would be worth thinking about—
"Or a buffalo hump." I've never tasted it, but I've: heard some of the old stagers out West say that buffalo hump and tongue are delicacies worth walking miles for. Have you ever tasted bear?"
"Bear—bear? Have I ever tasted bear? Certainly not!" Smiler's tone was one of indignant remonstrance. "I want to remain on speaking terms with my digestive machinery. Have you?"
"Well, no—I can't say T have. But they say bear is very good. They're very clean feeders, bears. Live on roots and vegetables and wild honey, when they can get it!" (Lord Fortworth had been talking about bears' diet with one of the keepers.)
"Very likely," said Smiler sarcastically. "Pigs are clean feeders, too. Live on roots and vegetables—and tame champagne, when they can get it!"
The partners laughed, and were about to move out into the open air, when a lady who had been standing near them admiring the monkeys, gave a scream.
A blue-headed, long-limbed spidery specimen, with rather honest eyes for a monkey, had shown himself languidly interested in a diamond ring the lady's had been causing to flash in the sunlight for his especial benefit. She had taken it off in order to catch the rays of the sun better, and Blue-Head had wearily heaved himself a little nearer to the wires. Suddenly an arm about a yard long and three-quarters of an inch round had flashed out—a bunch of hard black little fingers had grabbed the ring, and before this lady had quite realised what had happened Blue-Head had swallowed the ring, and his honest eyes were beaming like those of a monkey who had just enjoyed an unusually luscious and satisfying savory.
Mr. Bunn and his partner arrived too late to do anything but threaten the animal. The lady was almost in tears. The ring, it seemed, had cost hundreds of pounds.
The keeper hurrying up and Blue-Head, in the leisurely manner befitting a capitalist and the wealthiest inhabitant of the monkey department, climbed backwards up to a far corner of the ceiling and went to sleep. Evidently he considered that he had done a very good day's work and was entitled to take things easy for a while.
The partners attracted possibly by the several little signs that the loser of the ring seemed a person of wealth did what they could for her, but it did not amount to a great deal. They talked severely to the exclusive and smiling audience of monkey-keepers, but, as the men pointed out, Blue-Head had the ring—they had not. If the lady ignored the rules of the place, explained a tall, thin, melancholy keeper, it was at their own risk. Monkey-nuts were provided at a penny a bag,
"These monkeys are always satisfied with monkey-nuts, penny a bag. They're accustomed to monkey-nuts," he explained. "Penny a' bag. They don't really like diamond rings. If you offers 'em diamond rings, they'll accept 'em—but it's only their fun. Besides, it's a rule of the zoo that monkeys is not to be fed with jewellery. It's dangerous and costly. It might ruin the health of a valuable monkey as easy as anything. I reckon as I must report this to the super."
"Yes, and I reckon so, too, roared Lord Fortworth. "Where is he? I'll come with you. I want that blue-headed gibboon, or whatever it is, carved all up and the ring restored!" And they proceeded with the keeper to the superintendent's house.
The superintendent seemed inclined to make light of the whole affair—to dismiss it as a ridiculous and frivolous matter.
"The ring," he said, "has been lost through sheer carelessness and open defiance of the rules of the Zoological Society, and I really have not time to discuss it. I refuse emphatically to have the monkey dissected. If you consider that 1 am acting illegally or actionably I must refer you to the solicitors of the society.
"Oh, we don't mind—don't worry on our account," said Smiler gently. He had been thinking hard. "We just thought, perhaps, it would be doing the honest thing towards the monkey to tell you the ring is one of those antique rings containing poison. It's got a secret chamber that's loaded with concentrated poison. We only came to tell you that in case the monkey was valuable to you, or you were fond of it. You see, if the lid of this chamber works open by accident the monkey'll never know what struck him. He'll fall off his perch just as if he was going to sleep—he'll be stiff before he hits the floor!" He turned to the door; the others following him like people in a dream. With his hand on the doorknob he turned. "We only thought, perhaps, the society would like to know," he said meekly.
The superintendent altered his tone suddenly. He became more interested and wanted fuller particulars. He got them.
Then the partners and the lady left the zoo together, serenely, aware that it was within the power of science and surgery to recover the ring—its return within the course of the next few days was assured.
THE more pressing part of the business being completed, the partners were able to turn their attention to the lady, stimulated by the fact that a richly-dressed, woman who, as Mr. Bunn afterwards expressed it, "had no more sense than to feed gibboons with diamond rings," might very well repay a little attention.
"I think we've done all that can be done for you," said Lord Fortworth as the three stood for a moment at the gates.
The lady—a plain, rather heavy featured woman of about thirty, with slightly dull eyes, and, to be frank, a rather stupid expression—nodded.
"Yes, I think so—thank you!" she said. "I hope it will be recovered!" She hesitated and then, with a heavy flush, added, "It was my engagement ring. I'm superstitious and it seems like a bad omen."
Well, it's a bad omen for that monkey," said Smiler cheerfully. "But I don t think you've got any reason to worry, as far as getting it back is concerned."
Then the partners' big motor rolled up and Mr. Bunn suggested that possibly she would permit them to drive her home and explain if required how the accident occurred. Smiler had noted the vague uneasiness which lay in her eyes, and guessed that, probably, things might be difficult at home for her. He knew that costly apparel out of doors does not necessarily mean disregard for cost indoors.
The woman—her card, bore the name of Miss Jervis-Broome—literally jumped at the idea. Her relief was so palpable that instinctively, the partners realised that trouble was waiting for her at home.
They got into the car, and Sing Song, the all-round Chinese tough who acted as man-servant of the partners, was bidden to drive to the address given by Miss Jervis- Broome—a road in Holland Park.
On the way she explained her position. With a sort of naive stupidity.
"You see, my ring, was very valuable. My father says, and although Lord Loxton whom I am engaged to marry of course will not care at all, I am afraid my father will be very angry. You see, he has lived in India a long time, and is very quick-tempered. That is, really why he gave up the army—there was so much trouble. He struck one of the men, and it cost a thousand pounds to hush it up. So if you are there just to help break the news to him, it will be better for me!"
Evidently, Dr. Jervis-Broome—they gathered that he had been an army surgeon—was something of what Smiler termed a "nut." But that was all the better. Experience had long ago taught the partners that there are more kernels to be found in "nuts" than out of them. The average person affords very few openings for a "crook;" but the eccentric or unusual person very, frequently is to an enterprising sharp what meat is to a wolf or a last month's carcase in the desert to a vulture.
The car drew up in Addison-road North, outside a small, but comfortable-looking house, which lay well back from the road, and was partially screened by trees. There was a tiny verandah at the front of the house. Two men were lounging in cane chairs on the verandah, One of these was obviously the doctor—a tall, elderly man, extraordinarily thin, astonishingly yellow as to the skin, and with a white, close-cropped moustache. He was quite bald and had a very high bulging forehead. His eyes were remarkable; they were so pale blue as to make, one think, for some queer reason or other, of stone. When he opened his lids widely it looked as though he were blind; his stare was quite blank, like a snake's, and gave one that uncomfortable feeling sometimes referred to as the "jimminy-creeps."
Both Smiler and his partner took a keen dislike to Dr. Jervis-Broome on sight.
The other occupant of the verandah seemed to Mr. Bunn to be a pale young man with an ordinary, typically English face.
. Instinctively, the two "crooks" knew that this was Lord Loxton, the fiancé of their companion. He seemed tired; it was the most noticeable thing about him, his tired look.
"These gentlemen have been very kind to me, father!" began Miss Jervis-Broome nervously, almost before they reached the verandah. "I—I have had a mishap. You see."—she was becoming painfully confused under the . blank, lidless seeming stare. of her father. "You see, when the monkey swallowed my ring, they insisted on the superintendent taking steps for it to be returned.to me."
Jervis-Broome bowed slightly to the partners.
"Perhaps these gentlemen could explain it a little more coherently, my dear!" he said in a slow, cold, rather thin voice, and his. daughter subsided. Fortworth explained briefly.
Dr. Jervis-Broome listened attentively, coldly courteous. Lord Loxton lolled in his chair, his weary eyes fixed on the toe of his boot, displaying not the least interest in the story, making not the slightest movement. As Mr. Bunn remarked afterwards, he gave a masterly imitation of a graven image sleeping. It might have been a football or half a brick which the monkey had swallowed, instead of the valuable engagement ring he had given his fiancée.
At the end of the narrative Dr. Jervis-Broome thanked the partners politely, but without cordiality and obviously expected them to go. There appeared to be nothing to stay for; it was very plain that they were not wanted there and so, under the circumstances, they decided to go, and went accordingly.
But they had observed quite a number of things. For instance, they had seen that Miss Jervis-Broome feared her father almost to the point of speechlessness, that Lord Loxton behaved like a person who lived almost exclusively on opium or some such "sleepy dope"—to quote Fortworth—and that Dr. Jervis-Broome was a queer customer, to put it mildly. Comparing low-voiced notes as they went down the street towards the car, which Sing Song had, for some reason or other, backed a little, they agreed.that "The Laburnums," which was the name of the Jervis-Broome abode was pervaded with a vaguely sinister atmosphere, that was suspicious and invited enquiry.
"If that man isn't a real bad lot, I'll eat your hat," said Fortworth, and stopped suddenly, staring back at a young man who had just passed them.
"Gee, snakes!" he said. "See that chap?"
Smiler nodded. He had seen the "chap," and, like Lord Fortworth, had been staggered at the extraordinary resemblance of the passerby to Lord Loxton, whom they had just left on the verandah at "The Laburnums." Indeed, the man might have been Lord Loxton, had the two not known that to be out of the question. He had exactly the same pale face, heavy eyes, and weary appearance.
They both watched, him.
He stopped outside "The Laburnums," and without looking round, languidly opened the gate and went in.
"Funny, ain't?" said Smiler. ,"Unless he's the graven image's twin brother!"
"We can soon tell whether Lord Loxton's got a twin brother, anyway!" replied Fortworth. "If he has, all right no harm done. If he.hasn't, it might be worth while making a few enquiries. There may be some skin game going on back there. I never saw such a slack pair of lovers in my life as those two, and as for the bald sport, he's a sharp from Sharptown!"
Smiler agreed, and with this intention in view they motored to the Savoy for lunch. The fact that the various volumes they consulted before eating made it perfectly clear that Lord Loxton was the only son of the fourth Earl of Landford, made a very satisfactory mental hors d'oeuvre for them.
ON the following day Addison-road North had the honor to receive visits from the following distinguished strangers: A fat nigger minstrel wearing a mortarboard, who sang very vilely and accompanied himself badly on the bones; a person of Chinese appearance, who was offering for sale a selection of Oriental tablecloths, antimacassars, and so forth; and a stout, tough-looking chauffeur whose car, an elderly machine of an obsolete type, broke down opposite "The Laburnums," and took two hours to mend. No one took much notice of these gentlemen; certainly it did not appear to strike anyone that between them the three had kept Dr. Jervis-Broome's residence under close observation for practically the whole of the day. But they had done that and more, for the nigger minstrel (Mr. Smiler Bunn) had called both at the front and back of the house; Sing Song, the Qriental-goods merchant had been allowed inside while Miss Jervis-Broome examined the really wonderfully cheap things he had to sell; and the stout chauffeur had had quite a friendly chat with the young man who was Lord Loxton's double, and who, passing, had stopped to wearily express his astonishment at seeing such an old type of car still in existence.
On the whole the "firm" had not been idle. Among the various items of value they had picked up was the fact that no maidservants were kept by Dr. Jervis-Broome, the whole work of the house being done by a mixed-bred sort of Asiatic, who seemed, partly Chinese, partly Afghan, partly Thibetan, with a touch of several other strains in him. He had been imported alive by the doctor, from a place called Whang-Ho, near India, and had not many real friends in Holland Park, so that Sing Song came as a godsend to him. Another "fact" likely to be useful was a letter which Mr. Bunn, calling at the front door after watching the doctor, his daughter and Lord Loxton leave the house had managed to purloin from the hall table during his interview with the Asiatic servant. This was a clever piece of work, and had necessitated the upsetting of the shellful of small change which Smiler had presented for more, so that, while the Asiatic was picking up the money, Mr. Bunn picked up the letter on the off chance of it proving useful. Fortworth had gleaned the knowledge that Lord Loxton's double possessed a motor which he kept at a. small garage near Addison-road North, and a chauffeur, named Wall, who knew a good deal about cars, and might have given Fortworth a tip as to what was wrong with his—Fortworth's—"ark" if he liked to look in at the garage and ask for Wall, mentioning his masters name, Mr. Lionel Sutton.
But the trio had no time to compare notes just then. Sing Song had gathered from the native servant—whose name sounded like somebody groaning, but, explained the Chink spelt Urggha—that the Jervis-Broomes and their guest, Lord Loxton, were going to the theatre that evening. Sing Song proposed, therefore, to persuade Urggha to spend an hour with him, and so leave the house free to be explored by his employers.
He outlined his plan at the flat, and was highly complimented by his master.
"Sing Song, my son," said Smiler; "your head may be the color of a half-ripe melon, and I don't deny it, but you've got more than seeds and pulp in it after all. There s a fairish slab of brain there somewhere, ain't there, Fortworth? although you'd never think it to look at him. You're a good lad, Sing, and I shan't forget it.
He turned to his partner.
"This is a great chance," he said. "I'm dashed curious about that house, somehow. We'll leave everything else till we've looked over it. I've got an idea we're going to see something new there if we go."
Fortworth nodded.
"I'm in," he said, and while Sing Song was hurriedly preparing a quick meal the partners opened the purloined letter.
But it was written in cipher, and for the time being they let it go at that. As Smiler said, they were no puzzle-editors, and the very fact that Jervis-Broome corresponded in cipher helped to satisfy them that he was engaged in some subterranean scheme. They noted the postmark, however. It was "Landford." Landford, they knew, was the parish in which the country seat of the Earl of Landford was situated. There was a gleam of satisfaction in their eyes as they looked at each other. It seemed curious that Dr. Jervis-Broome should correspond in cipher with someone at Landford. the home of the gentleman to whom his daughter was engaged.
"Queer, ain't it?" said Mr. Bunn, his smile becoming a little hard as he thought things over and remembered his impression that Jervis-Broome was a particularly dangerous man.
Fortworth nodded.
"I shouldn't 'take' any heavy money against our having come up against a pretty steep game," he said grimly. "That Kincardell couple were a smooth pair, but I've got a fancy this medical stiff's a lap and a half ahead of 'em. We'll see, anyway."
AT about half past eight that night, had the policeman whose beat included Addison-road North been engaged in his duty of keeping an eye out for trouble instead of staring passionately into the blue orbs of the hospitable Irish cook at No. 16B, he would have observed two individuals of Mongolian appearance stroll fraternally away from "The Laburnums"—Sing Song, the decoy, and Urggha, his dear friend. They were going to have an opium or two together at Chung-Loo's den down by the Docks. Hardly had they turned the corner before two stout individuals in evening dress turned in at the front gate of "The Laburnums" and after a brief delay at the door passed into the house.
"It's a funny thing," said Smiler, as Fortworth commented on the ease with which he had opened the door, "a crook never seems to think anybody's going to rob him, although he may get a living robing other folk. A deaf and dumb paralytic could have opened that door with a bit of wire, and his teeth!"
He softly closed the door and switched on a light.
"We'd better run through all the rooms in the house first and see what things look like," said Fortworth.
Smiler agreed and they commenced their tour with the bedrooms. Three of them were quite ordinary, decently furnished rooms—obviously those of Dr. Jervis-Broome, his daughter, and their guest. The fourth looked like a spare roam, but bore signs of being occupied.
It was the fifth and last—except a second-floor garret, which probably was the apartment of Urggha—that instantly engaged their close attention, and their faces hardened a little while they examined it, being very careful to disturb nothing. The windows of this room were barred inside with iron bars and shuttered outside. The space between shutters and bars was packed tight with layer upon layer of felt. The walls of the room were also thickly lined with felt. From the furniture and its arrangement the room seemed designed to be used as a bed-sitting room. There was beside the bedroom appointments a bookcase filled chiefly with light novels, a small sideboard, a table, several easy-chairs a big, baggy, shabby couch, and the floor was carpeted nearly five inches deep with soft yielding felts and piles. Light was provided by several electric bulbs.
The partners swiftly took in these details, and came simultaneously to the same conclusion.
"This room is as nearly sound-proof as you can get to it," said Smiler. "And some poor devil's going to get landed in here before long. Why, it's a cell—a comfortable kind of cell, perhaps but that's what it is."
Fortworth nodded.
"Who's going to be the tenant?" he asked.
They looked at each other.
"I wonder," said Smiler. "I can give you a thundering good guess who's going to be gaoler—and that's our bald headed pal, Jervis-Broome. Let's get downstairs.
THEY proceeded thoughtfully to run through the dining- and drawing-rooms. Nothing of any special interest there. Then they entered a room that was unmistakably Jervis-Broome's sanctum. Like that of the sound-proof "ceil" upstairs, the door of this room was locked—a matter which wasted quite thirty seconds of Mr. Bunn's valuable time.
They went straight over to a writing table by the window. Every drawer was locked. and so they settled down to serious business, Smiler picking the locks and Fortworth very carefully running through the papers in the drawers.
Almost at once they came upon the key to the cipher used in the letter Smiler had taken. Also, they found rough pencil-crawled drafts of two other letters apparently written, or about to be written, by Jervis-Broome.
They sat down and did a little reading. The first of the pencil scrawls was patently the rough draft of a letter intended for the Earl of Landford, and it contained distinctly bad news—if true. Briefly, it explained a grave misfortune which seemed suddenly to have befallen Lord Loxton on the previous afternoon. He had become nearly blind.
"At the moment I am not prepared to say that your son will recover the use or his eyes completely, but I incline to the opinion that the sudden failure may be due to the temporary weakness of his nervous system," read Fortworth sardonically from the letter.
"Well, if it happened yesterday afternoon and he's gone to the theatre to-night, all I can say is that it was a quick cure," said. Smiler."Read on."
"We are bringing him to Landford on Friday and although, of course, he is rather depressed, I do not think you will find him very greatly changed except for the glasses which he will be wearing. I strongly urge that he should not be pressed, to talk. You will find that he seems very disinclined for conversation and in itself this is by no means a bad sign. His nervous system, in brief, is thoroughly exhausted, and he needs complete rest, together with a gradual course of tonic treatment. But I hope to discuss this fully with you to-morrow. Meantime there is not the least occasion for alarm."
Fortworth put down the letter and the partners stared at each other with puzzled frowns. Jervis-Broome's letter was obviously a lie from beginning to end, unless he meant to half blind young Loxton himself. But what possible motive could he have in perpetrating such a villainy on the man who was shortly to become his son-in-law?
They turned to the second draft. This one was written in a very different style, and the partners guessed that probably it was intended for the individual at Landford who corresponded in cipher.
"We shall be down on Friday—L., myself, and my daughter. Be ready and on the look-out and make no mistakes. Remember, one mistake means ruin for all. Keep people off until he shakes down a hit. Don't let him further out of your sight than you can help, and keep him primed as regards likely callers, all the people he ought to know from the sound of their voices, and so on, as far ahead as possible."
That was the second letter, and from certain pencil-marks it apparently awaited transformation into cipher.
"What do you make of it?" asked Fortworth.
"Well, it depends on who 'L' is," said Smiler. "I suppose it means Loxton, or, of course—"
His face suddenly lit up as an idea occurred to him.
"I've got it!" he exclaimed. "If I haven't, I'll refuse all food for a month. Listen!"
He leaned forward, whispering excitedly.
Ten minutes later, leaving everything exactly as they found it. Messrs. Bunn and Fortworth passed quietly out of the house and faded away down the street.
They hailed a taxicab, and, smiling benevolently at each other, returned to their flat. As Fortworth put is, they were now "wise" to the Jervis-Broome scheme, and as a result they saw gold, looming over the horizon and coming in their direction, large, heavy handfuls of it.
SING SONG drifted with his accustomed noiselessness into the flat an hour and a half later, and was questioned severely. He had done well. After returning with Urggha to "The Laburnums" he had watched the theatre party's return. Lord Loxton's eyes appeared to be satisfactory, he said, in answer to special enquiries.
"Have you got Urggha where you want him—under your thumb?" asked Smiler. "D'you reckon he's easy? Can you do what you like with him?"
Sing Song nodded.
"Him velly easy. Can do anything allee time any time. Makee dlunk, hittee him ovel headee—anything allee samee time!" said the Chink with his bland smile.
"Good lad!" said Smiler. "You can get supper now."
Then they deciphered the letter with the aid of rough notes of the code which Fortworth had made.
It was written by one "Wilson, and in vague terms appeared to be urging Dr. Jervis-Broome to do something (not specified) without delay. Things were ready and waiting, wrote Wilson, and Jervis-Broome would never get a better chance than the present. The partners grinned as they finished, and took a whisky apiece to give them an appetite for supper.
BEYOND keeping, a keen watch on "The Laburnums," they took the following day easy. At 2 o'clock Fortworth left London, taking a ticket to Landford.
Smiler Bunn got up with the birds next morning and proceeded to get what he termed "a move on." The "move on" commenced with about half a bushel of breakfast. Then he put in twenty minutes with a cigar and a newspaper, awaiting a telephone call from Fortworth, who had promised to ring up from Salisbury. Presently it came, and after a lengthy consultation over the wires Mr. Bunn rang off and turned to Sing Song with a smile like "shepherd's delight" sunset.
"More money coming along," he said jovially. "What a thing is money! Do you like money, Sing, my son?"
Sing Song nodded. "Yes, mastel."
"Do anything for it, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, mastel."
"Ah, well, you do what I tell you to all the time, and perhaps you'll get it. Have you ordered the car?"
"Yes, mastel."
"Well, lock up now, and put the coats in the car. Don't forget the flask"—he glanced at the clock—"and slip into it, for we haven't got any too much time."
A QUARTER of an hour later. the big car pulled up at the corner of Addison-road North. It waited there until Smiler, watching keenly from the interior, saw three people leave "The Laburnums," enter" a taxicab, and drive off. They looked like Dr. Jervis-Broome, his daughter, and Lord Loxton. Then Smiler Bunn and Sing Song drove up to the house, unobtrusively alighted, and went to the front door.
Urggha answered the bell. His evil face lighted up as saw Sing Song, who addressed him in some strange tongue so barbarously tangled that it set Smiler's teeth on edge. They were in the ha!l and the door was closed.
Urggha scowled in answer to Sing Song, and shook his head, jabbering fluently. Sing Song spoke again angrily.
But Urggha only shook his head and jabbered more fluently than ever. He seemed to be protesting—to be denying something. Then suddenly he stopped, warned apparently by the look in Sing Song's face. Sudden suspicion shot into his oblique eyes and he stepped back, sliding a yellowish hand into the folds of his white native dress. But if he was reaching for a knife he was too late, for at that moment Sing Song jumped at him like a cat. They went down with a thud, fighting in silence. In ten seconds the Chinaman had him helpless and was looking up at his master for instructions.
"Good lad!" said Smiler approvingly. "Kneel on him till I get back." He took out a bunch of skeleton keys and went straight up to the barred and shuttered sound-proof room which he and Fortworth had discovered two days before.
Picking the lock with the ease which usually distinguished his ways with, locks, he entered the room.
As he expected there was now a tenant of the apartment—a man. He was lying ©n the big couch and seemed to be just waking from sleep, or, more probably, was coming round from unconsciousness inspired l>y drugs. On the table lay ready to hand a hypodermic syringe such as is used by people with the cocaine hobby.
"Morning," said Smiler cheerily. "You're the very man I wanted to see. I want to take you for a run in my car. Get some fresh air—good thing, fresh air"—he sniffed. "It'll be a bit of a change after the muck you're breathing here."
The dazed eyes of the man on the couch fastened themselves on the hypodermic syringe.
"Ah, yes—I'll take care of that, dear old boy. Have one with me later on," smiled Mr. Bunn. and put the instrument in his pocket. He held up a heavy fur-coat.
"Come on," he said, suddenly losing patience. "Get into this. We've got no time for fooling about stretching and yawning and scratching up here. Sing Song'll kill that mongrel downstairs if we don't get busy."
He hustled the still dazed prisoner into the.big fur-coat, put a cap on him, and, taking his arm in a grip like the grip of the law, escorted him out of the room, downstairs, and out to the car.
"You can let that loose," he said to Sing Song, who was kneeling on the unfortunate and friendless Urggha. "Kick it into the kitchen," he suggested as he passed.
Sing Song did so, and, closing the. door behind him, came out to the car. Smiler and his captive were already inside.
Sing Song climbed in behind the wheel and looked interrogatively at his master.
"Pull out," said Smiler curtly, and Sing Song "pulled out" accordingly.
"Now for a nice little five-hour run," said Mr. Bunn, opening his cigar case. There was no answer. Smiler looked at his companion. He was fast asleep.
"Well, well—as long as you don't snore," said Mr. Bunn, and lighted his cigar.
Sing Song humored the car gently out of London, and set her nose for Salisbury. Landlord Abbey, the seat of the Earl of Landford, is near Salisbury, and Mr. Bunn was bound for it.
The car hummed up to the front entrance of the great grey pile at about 2. o'clock.
Smiler alighted with his captive, and rang a bell as though he had a mortgage on the place.
Large numbers of. servants appeared, among them being a butler-shaped person in black, with a fat, white face, a cold grey eye, and lips like knife-edges. This gentleman came forward. Mr. Bunn had never seen him before, but he knew him, for Fortworth had described him on the telephone.
"How do, Wilson?" said Mr. Bunn calmly.
But Wilson did not answer. He was staring at Smiler's companion like a man who sees a ghost. .here was silence for the fraction of a second. Then, white as chalk, he turned sharply and went away from that spot.
Smiler turned to the gaping footmen.
"Where is the Earl of Landford?" he said. His voice was not affable any more. They jumped when they heard it.
"At luncheon, sir!" one of the men answered very respectfully indeed.
"Do you know this gentleman?" asked. Mr. Bunn, indicating his companion, who still seemed a little cobwebby in his mind.
The footman stared, looked startled, stared again, hesitated.
"Yes, or no?" snapped Mr. Bunn.
The footman made up his mind.
"Yes, sir," he said definitely.
"Announce us, then. I am Mr. Wilton Flood."
If he had described himself as the King of Siam he could not have made it sound more impressive.
They followed the footman, who wended his weary way through long, magnificent corridors, until finally he stopped before a big carved door. This he threw, open, and, taking a deep breath, announced in no feeble voice:
"Mr. Filton Blood and the Viscount Loxton!"
He might have done better or, for that matter, worse, but at any rate he seemed to have caused a sensation. Five people who were seated at table—four men and a woman rose stiffly, and there was a little scream from the woman.
"Impostor!" hissed one of the men malevolently. It was Dr. Jervis-Broome, and he pointed at young Lord Loxton, who, at Smiler's side, stared dully at the company "Impostor;" he said, his lips white and trembling. "Lord Loxton is here!" His forefinger swept round to the gentleman who had sat facing him.
"You are a liar," said Mr. Bunn, not elegantly, but forcibly. "That stiff is Lionel Sutton, and we can prove it if necessary."
A little, grey haired, aged man, who had been, sitting at the head of the table, came forward and peered with dim eyes at the young man with Smiler Bunn. There was a momentary pause—everybody seemed to be holding their breath, for the Earl of Landlord was looking, for his son. There was something a little touching about it, this half-blind old man peering.
Then, suddenly, he took one of the youth's hands and turned with a gesture of extraordinary dignity.
"I have been the victim of a conspiracy!" he said angrily. "I must ask you, Dr. Jervis-Broome, your daughter and your friend to leave this house."
"My lord," began Jervis-Broome malignantly, but Fortworth, who had been the fifth at the table, broke in.
"Silence, Jervis-Broome," he said. "Get out!"
The doctor looked at him as a deadly reptile might have looked, and then, suddenly, the pale, stony eyes fell, and with a muttered word to his daughter and Sutton he walked out, followed by the woman and the sham Loxton.
Smiler and Fortworth dogged them to the door.
"See 'em off the premises," said Mr. Bunn to the footman, who appeared to have been very near the keyhole. "And quick about it. Sling Wilson out too, if you can find him, which I doubt."
Jervis-Broome turned as though Mr. Bunn's tone had stung him.
"I shall see you again," he said with a malign and bitter smile. His eyes were veiled and expressionless as ever. "I will deal with you two spies as surely as I live!" His voice was thin with fury.
"Oh, clear out!" said Smiler with genial contempt. "You make me tired," and, with Fortworth, returned to the earl, who advanced to them both with outstretched hands.
"What am I to say to you gentlemen?" said the old nobleman. "You have prevented a disaster—a lamentable mistake." He was trembling like a leaf, for he was a very old man.
"Say?" asked Smiler. "Say nothing, my lord. All's well that ends well, and I'm hungry like a hunter!"
"My dear sir, I am ashamed!"
The earl touched bells, and the servants began to trot to and from the sideboard.
Mr. Bunn sat down with the vague air of a man about to break a forty-day fast. He blandly excused the Earl of Landford and his son.
"You would like to be alone and talk things over, I know," he said, "while we lunch. You'll have plenty of time!" he added.
The old man jumped gratefully at the suggestion, and the partners sat down, thoughtfully, like men engaged in serious business.
Half an hour later, when the first pangs of Mr. Bunn's hunger had been allayed, Fortworth explained all that his partner, did not already know.
"I called on Lord Landford yesterday afternoon," he said, "and explained to him why we suspected that Jervis-Broome was about to pass Lionel Sutton off on him as Lord Loxton. Of course, Jervis-Broome knew that the earl was getting a little senile and short sighted, and I've no doubt that he'd been training Sutton to imitate Lord Loxton's ways and voice, and so on, for months. Wilson—he was groom of the chambers—was in the scheme, of course, for without him to coach Sutton down here the plan would have been impossible. Well, it seems that young Loxton fell in love with Jervis-Broome's daughter a year ago and has. been staying at "The Laburnums" ever since. The earl objected, but he couldn't do anything much. As it happened, the girl was already married to Sutton, but none of them could bear the idea of letting Loxton go out of the family, so to speak, for he'll be devilish rich, and between 'em they hit on the idea of concealing the fact of the marriage from Loxton and getting Sutton, who was so much like him, to understudy him. Meantime Jervis-Broome made Loxton half an idiot by teaching him the drug habit—he was only a fool before—while Sutton was learning Loxton's mannerisms. See? When things were ready Jervis-Broome alarmed the earl about Loxton's health, handed out the half-blind dope as an excuse for any change in Loxton's appearance. and why he would be wearing smoked glasses, that were really to hide the false Loxton's eyes, which are bluer than the real Loxton's. Then he brought down Sutton, passing him off as Lord Loxton. If everything had gone right Sutton would have remarried his wife and in time have been Earl of Landford. That's what Jervis-Broome was after. He and Sutton would have halved the plunder. I explained all that to the earl, and he saw the whole scheme. He was a bit suspicious at first, but he allowed himself to be advised by me in the end. He pretended to accept Sutton as his son this morning, until you brought Loxton. You know what happened then."
Smiler nodded and emptied his glass.
"I wonder what Jervis-Broome would have done with the real Lord Loxton if they hadn't been shown up?" he mused.
Fortworth looked serious.
"Oh, Jervis-Broome isn't the sort of cuss to let a little thing like murder stand in his way. He'd have pitched him over a cliff or something like that. He's got a mind like a mad puff-adder. That's what queered his game; if he hadn't made his daughter so scared of him we should never have got a finger in the pie at all."
Mr. Bunn nodded again, very thoughtfully indeed.
Then, "How about terms?" he asked.
"I don't know. I haven't mentioned such a common, vulgar thing as money yet," said Fortworth. "What do you think about it?"
Smiler pondered.
"I think," he said at last, "we'd better ask the earl for a small loan as between gentlemen. Say five thousand pounds; he might offer two, and, anyway, we'd take one. Just a friendly little loan, as between friends. We shan't need to mention security or IOU's or low-down things of that sort. He's a gentleman, the earl—he'll understand."
"That goes!" said Fortworth.
And in course of time it did. The earl was both grateful and generous. He quite "understood," and made it five thousand "as between friends," no offence meant or taken.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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