My Strangest Case - Guy Newell Boothby (romantic story to read TXT) 📗

and foremost, do you know where you are and who I am?" I asked him.

"No," he said, "I can't say as ever I set my eyes on yer afore last night, and I don't know yer bloomin' name or what yer are and I don't want to."

"Politeness is evidently not your strong point," I commented. "Just look at that!"

Taking a sheet of note-paper from the rack upon my table I handed it to him.

He did so, and I saw a look of surprise steal over his face. He looked from it to me and then back again at the paper.

"Fairfax," he said. "The d---- Tec, the same as got poor old Billy Whitelaw scragged last year."

"I certainly believe I had that honour," I returned, "and it's just possible, if you continue in your present career, that I may have the pleasure of doing the same for you. Now, look here, my man, there's some one else at the back of this business, and what I want to know is, who put you up to try your hand upon me? Tell me that, and I will let you go and say no more about it. Refuse, and I must try and find some evidence against you that will rid society of you for some time to come. Doubtless it will not be very difficult."

He considered a moment before he replied.

"Well," he said, "I don't know as how I won't tell you, a seein' you're who yer are, and I am not likely to get anything out of the job. It was a rare toff who put us on to it. Silk hat, frock-coat, and all as natty as a new pin. He comes across us down in the Dials, stood us a couple of drinks, turfed out a suvring apiece, and then told us he wanted the gentleman at Rickford's Hotel laid by for a time. He told us 'ow yer were in the habit of going about the streets at night for walks, and said as 'ow he would be down near the hotel that evenin' and when yer came out, he would strike a match and light a smoke just ter give us the tip like. We wos to foller yer, and to do the job wherever we could. Then we was to bring your timepiece to him at the back of St. Martin's Church in the Strand at midnight, and he would pay us our money and let us keep the clock for our trouble. Oh, yes, 'e's a deep un, jost take my tip for it. He knowed that unless we 'outed' yer properly, we'd not be able to get at your fob, and then 'e'd not have paid out."

"I see, and not being successful on your first attempt, you followed me again to-night, of course by his instructions as before?"

"That's so, guvner," the man replied, "but I reckon we ain't agoin' to see any money this trip. If I'd ha' knowed who you was, I wouldn't a taken this job in hand, not for no money."

"That is where so many of you go wrong," I said. "You fail to make sufficient inquiries before you commence business. And I understand you to say that the gentleman who put you up to it, is to be at the back of St. Martin's church to-night?"

"Yes, sir, that's so," said the fellow. "He'll be there all right."

"In that case I think I'll be there to meet him," I continued. "It's a pity he should not see some one, and I suppose you will not keep your appointment?"

"Not if I knows it," the man answered. Then he added regretfully, "A regular toff—he was—free with his rhino as could be, and dressed up to the nines. He chucked his 'arf soverings about as if they were dirt, he did."

"It is sad to think that through your folly, no more of them will find themselves into your pocket," I said. "You should have done the trick last night, and you would now be in the full enjoyment of your wealth. As it is you have had all your trouble for nothing. Now, that's all I want to say to you, so you can go and join your amiable companions as soon as you like. Just one word of advice, however, before you depart. Don't go near St. Martin's church to-night, and, when you want to kick another unoffending citizen to death, be sure of your man before you commence operations."

As I said this I rang the bell and told Wilson to show him out, which he did.

"Now," I said to myself after he had gone, "this looks like developing into an affair after my own heart. I am most anxious to discover who my mysterious enemy can be. It might be Grobellar, but I fancy he is still in Berlin. There's Tremasty, but I don't think he would dare venture to England. No, when I come to think of it, this business does not seem to belong to either of them."

I took from my pocket the watch which was to have played such an important part in the drama and consulted it. It was just half-past eleven, therefore I had exactly half-an-hour to get to the rendezvous. I called Wilson and congratulated him on the success which had attended our efforts of that evening.

"It's a good thing you came out of it so well, sir," he said. "They were a nasty pair of chaps, and would have thought as much of 'outing' you as they would of drinking a pot of ale."

"But thank goodness, they didn't succeed," I replied. "As the saying goes, 'a miss has never killed a man yet.' And now, Wilson, you'd better be off home to bed. Turn out the gas before you go. Good-night!"

"Good-night, sir," he answered, and then I put on my hat and left the office.

I found when I stepped into the street that the character of the night had changed. Thick clouds obscured the sky, and a few drops of rain were falling. At first I felt inclined to take a cab, but on second thoughts I changed my mind, and putting up my umbrella strode along in the direction of St. Martin's church.

The theatres were over by this time, and the streets were beginning to grow empty. I passed the Gaiety where a middle-aged gentleman, decidedly intoxicated, was engaged in a noisy altercation with a policeman, who was threatening to take him to Bow Street if he did not go quietly home, and at last approached the spot for which I was making. I took up my position on the darker side of Holywell Street, and waited. So far I seemed to have the thoroughfare to myself, but I had still some three or four minutes to wait.

At last midnight sounded, and as I heard it I concealed myself more carefully in my doorway and watched. I was not to be kept long in suspense, for the new day was scarcely three minutes old, when a hansom drove up to the other side of the church, and a man alighted. He paid off the man and wished him good-night, and then came along the roadway at the back of the church. From where I stood I could see his figure distinctly, but was not able to distinguish his face. He was dressed in a black cloak, and wore a deer-stalker hat upon his head. That he was the man I wanted I felt sure, for what would any one else be doing there at such an hour? That he was surprised at not finding his bravoes awaiting him was very certain, for he looked up the street, down the street, peered into Holywell Street, where, thank goodness, he did not see me, then along the Strand in a westerly direction, and afterwards came and took up his position within half-a-dozen paces of where I was hidden. Presently he took a cigar-case from his pocket, opened it, selected a weed, and struck a match to light it. The flame illumined his face so that I could see it distinctly. If I had not had myself well under control, I believe I should have uttered an exclamation of surprise that could not have failed to attract attention. The man who had set those rascals on to try and get rid of me, was none other than Mr. Edward Bayley, the Managing Director of the Santa Cruz Mining Company of the Argentine Republic!

Here was a surprise indeed! What on earth did it all mean?

CHAPTER V

I must confess that the discovery I had made behind St. Martin's church, and which I described at the end of the previous chapter, had proved too much for me. What possible reason could Mr. Bayley have for wanting to rid himself of me? Only the morning before he had been anxious to secure my services in the interests of his Company, and now here he was hiring a couple of ruffians to prevent me from doing my work, if not to take my life. When I reached my hotel again, and went to bed, I lay awake half the night endeavouring to arrive at an understanding of it; but, try how I would, I could not hit upon a satisfactory solution. Upon one thing, however, I had quite made up my mind. As soon as the City offices were open, I would call at that of the Santa Cruz Mining Company, and put a few questions to Mr. Bayley which I fancied that individual would find difficult and rather unpleasant to answer. This plan I carried out, and at ten o'clock I stood in the handsome outer office of the Company.

"I should be glad to see the managing director, if he could spare me a few moments," I said to the youth who waited upon me in answer to his question.

"He's engaged, sir, at present," the lad replied. "If you will take a seat, however, I don't fancy he will be very long."

I did as he directed, and in the interval amused myself by studying a large map of the Argentine Republic, which hung upon the wall. I had practically exhausted its capabilities when the door opened, and a tall, military-looking man emerged and passed out into the street.

"What name shall I say, sir?" inquired the clerk, as he descended from his high stool and approached me.

"Fairfax," I replied, giving him my card. "I think the manager will know my name."

The clerk disappeared to return a few moments later with the request that I would follow him. Preparing myself for what I fully expected would be a scene, I entered the director's sanctum. It was a handsome room, and was evidently used as a Boardroom as well as an office, for there was a long table in the middle, surrounded by at least a dozen chairs. At the furthest end a gentleman of venerable appearance was seated. He rose as I entered, and bowed to me.

"In what way can I be of service to you, Mr. Fairfax?" he inquired, after I had seated myself.

"I am afraid there has been a mistake," I answered, looking about me for Mr. Bayley. "I told the clerk that I desired to see the managing director."

"You are seeing him," he returned with a smile, "for I am he."

"In that case I must have misunderstood the gentleman who called upon me two days ago," I replied, with some surprise.

"Do I understand you to say that a gentleman from this office called upon you?"

"Yes, a Mr. Bayley, a tall, good-looking man, of between thirty-eight and forty years of age."

The old gentleman stared, as well he might.

"But there is no Mr. Bayley here," he said. "We have no one of that name in our employ. I fear the man, whoever he was, must have been playing a trick upon you. I sincerely trust he has done no damage. Might I ask what he called upon you about?"

"He