Читать книгу The Sinister Man - Edgar Wallace - Страница 15

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IT would have been unnatural if Elsa Marlowe had not her conception of the ideal man. And he had no face, figure or dimensions, being mainly character and behaviour. Her ideal man did not order girls about as though they were machines; he did not resent a civil "Good-morning," or scowl, or fire out interminable letters; he did not dismiss the humblest of his employees with a curt nod; and, whatever kind of face he had, it most certainly was not disfigured by an ugly sneer.

That morning at breakfast Mr. Tarn had made a brief reference to his conversation of the previous day, but happily had not pursued the subject. She would have to leave him: that was clear. But it was not going to be easy. The association of many years could not be lightly broken; and somehow the more she thought of Mrs. Trene Hallam's offer, even as a temporary measure, the less she liked the idea.

Maurice Tarn seemed to grow more and more depressed as the days progressed. Though she was not feeling any too friendly toward him, she added his misery to the account of her uncouth employer.

Just before lunch Amery sent for her and dictated instructions to be followed if a telephone call came through for him during his absence. She noted, with feminine interest, that he was wearing a new grey suit, and thought it was an improvement, though by contrast with the light material his face looked darker and more forbidding than ever.

When he had finished dictating, he leant back in his chair, and his eyes wandered to the window. Not least of his unpleasant practices was to talk without looking at her.

"Have you any friends in Shanghai?" he asked.

"I, Major Amery? No," she said, surprised by the query.

"Queer place—full of scandal. I suppose you hear fragments of gossip—yes?"

"No. I know there is such a place as Shanghai, and of course we have letters from our agents there, but I've heard no scandal or gossip. About whom?" she asked daringly.

"Me, mostly... I wondered," he said.

She was fired with a natural curiosity. What kind of scandal or gossip could touch this inhuman man? Yet he must be human on some side.

"Queer place, Shanghai. You know why the bandits held up the blue train? I suppose you don't."

The colour and the mystery of the East were comprehended in that short question. She remembered reading something about bandits wrecking a train, robbing the passengers and holding them to ransom, and she wished now that she had given the item of news a closer study.

If she had expected him to refresh her memory, she was to be disappointed.

"There is a lot of money to be made in Shanghai—straight and otherwise," he said, "but mostly otherwise. That will do!"

As her busy fingers flickered above the keyboard of the typewriter, she found herself wondering which method of making money most appealed to the sinister man, and supposed that he was not very particular, for the acquisition of money seemed to be his principal occupation just then.

A few weeks before, he had begun to institute a system of economy. Superfluous clerks had been discharged; new printed warnings had appeared above every electric light switch. He was in the habit of making unexpected appearances in the lower office, where row after row of clerks stood at their high desks, and there had been summary dismissals. Once he had surprised a flushed, dishevelled girl, her eyes bright with anger, and had instantly discovered the cause. She had come from one of the little offices which housed the various sub-managers of departments, and, without a word to the girl, Amery had walked into the bureau and with a crook of his finger had summoned to him its middle-aged occupant.

"You tried to kiss that girl, I think?" he said.

"If she says that, she's a liar—" began the manager.

"I say that," said the sinister Amery, his lip up. "See the cashier and draw your salary up to to-day: you're fired!"

Lawyers' letters had followed this incident, and Elsa had typed a few of the acrid replies. The matter had come up when she was called in to take a letter to the sub-manager's legal representative, and she ventured to put in a word for him.

"Mr. Sturl has been ten years in the firm," she said. "He's a married man with a family. Don't you think you're rather hard on him?"

He transfixed her for a second with that granite look of his, and then:

"I am not in need of advice," he said.

She was so furious that she could have thrown her book at him.

It was characteristic of the change which had come over the business that Mr. Tarn had not been consulted about this dismissal, and even more remarkable that he was too far gone in gloom to resent his overlooking.

She met him as she was going out to lunch. It was so unusual for him to leave the office until he left it in the evening that she almost asked him where he was going. She checked herself in time, though he could not have been ruder to her than Amery had been. On one thing she was determined; she was leaving this establishment at the earliest opportunity. The man had so got on her nerves that she loathed the very sight and sound of him.

Mr. Tarn would have been glad to have such definite views. His mind was in a whirl. Plan after plan occurred to him, only to be rejected, and there seemed no pleasant prospect in life but the quiet of a remote ranch in a foreign country, and the solace of mind that obscurity would bring.

Ralph Hallam had telephoned to him to come to lunch, and it was to the little house in Half Moon Street that his steps were directed.

"I've had a talk with the crowd," said Ralph, when Tarn was seated before a luncheon which would have choked him to eat, "and they agreed that it would be best if you got away. Your nerves are gone, and this fellow Amery looks like smashing up one side of our organization."

"It's smashed," groaned Tarn. "Not another ounce can come in through Amery & Amery. I wish to God I'd never come into the game! Look at this: it was left for me this morning."

His trembling fingers dived into the inside of his frock coat and brought out a letter, which he handed across the table to the other. It was written on very thick and very cheap notepaper, in a hand obviously disguised. Without preliminary it began:

"You are poaching on our preserves, and thanks to your blundering folly, the police are working double shifts. We are willing to give you £100,000 for the business, you to hand over your agents and agree to dissolve your organization. If you do not accept this offer, we will find a way of clearing you out."

It was signed with a capital "S".

Ralph handed the letter back with a smile.

"If it's worth a hundred thousand pounds to them, it may be worth a million to us. Why did they send it to you, do you think? Because they knew you were the one scared chap in the organization! When did you get this?"

"I found it on my desk this morning when I arrived at the office. Nobody seems to know how it got there."

"Perhaps Amery could explain," said the other drily. "Did he arrive before you?"

The old man nodded.

"I'm going to quit," he said. "We'll cut up the money: there's enough to make us both rich."

"You've got it in ready cash, of course?"

"How else?" said the other impatiently. "If I'd followed your advice, I'd have put it in that fool Stebbing's Bank, and when we went to draw it we'd have found two Scotland Yard men waiting on the doorstep. The money's all right," said Tarn, cheerful for the first time that day. "We'll divide up at the end of the week. I've booked my passage."

"You're a queer old devil." said Ralph, something amused, "and you're sacrificing a fortune. But I think—we all think—that you're wise to take this step."

He got up from the table, lighting his cigar, and blew a ring to the ceiling.

"You'll go alone, of course?"

Tarn shifted uncomfortably.

"I suppose I shall," he growled, "but that's no concern of yours."

"It is a very big concern of mine. I've already explained to you, my dear fellow, that Elsa is necessary to me. To be biologically exact, you have more brains than she; but she's smarter than you, and, with a little instruction, will more than take your place. Now kill that crazy May-and-December bug that's tormenting you. Go away by all means; you'll be a happier man the moment the Lizard's astern; and if you are serious about your matrimonial project, why, South America is still full of very beautiful young ladies who would jump at the opportunity of marrying a man with your wad. And honestly, Tarn, I think you'll be a lucky man to get away alive."

"What do you mean?" demanded the other, startled.

"I mean this, that Soyoka is going to be very busy, and you're better out of it."