Читать книгу The Man Who Was Nobody - Edgar Wallace - Страница 5

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"I AM SURE something has upset you, dear. You've never been so snappy with me before," complained Mrs Stedman. Her whole attitude toward life was one of complaint, and the girl was inured to this form of persecution.

They sat at breakfast in a tiny Brixton flat, and Mrs Stedman, who, in spite of her frequent predictions of an early demise, had managed to eat a very hearty breakfast, was sitting watching her daughter over her glasses with a disapproving frown.

"There is nothing the matter with me, mother," said Marjorie Stedman quietly "I had rather an upsetting day at the office yesterday. Something extraordinary happened."

"And you won't tell your own mother what it is!" repeated Mrs Stedman for the third time.

"Don't you understand, mother," said the girl patiently, "that the business of my employer is, or should be, sacred, and that I cannot talk about it?"

"Not even to your own mother?" murmured Mrs Stedman, shaking her head. "Marjorie, I have always given you the greatest confidence, and I have repeatedly asked you to come to me with all your troubles."

"Well, this isn't one of my troubles really" smiled the girl. "It is somebody else's trouble which does not concern me and should not concern you, mother dear."

Mrs Stedman sighed heavily. "I shall be very glad when you're away from that wretched office," she said. "It is not good for a young girl to be mixed up in crimes and divorces and all those terrible things one reads about in the Sunday papers."

Marjorie rested her hand on her mother's shoulder as she walked past her.

"Mother dear, I've told you often that Mr Vance has nothing to do with crime," she said. "We haven't had a criminal in our office for a hundred years."

"Don't say 'our office,' my dear," wailed Mrs Stedman. "It sounds so low! And please, when we get into the country amongst people of our own class, never talk about your business. If people knew that you were connected with trade—"

"Oh, mother, what nonsense you talk!" said the girl, losing patience at last, 'just because Uncle Solomon is sending us enough money to live comfortably in the country you don't suppose we're going to put on airs or meet people who will be shocked by my being a typist in a lawyer's office?"

"Confidential secretary," corrected Mrs Stedman firmly. "I insist upon your being a confidential secretary. I cannot allow you to call yourself a typist, my dear. I've told all my friends that you're studying for the Bar."

The girl groaned. "Oh Heavens!" she said.

"It isn't what we shall be next month," Mrs Stedman went on with satisfaction. "In a year's time, when your uncle gets rich, we are going to take the beautiful house in which I was born, my dear—the country estate of the Stedmans."

The country estate of the Stedmans consisted of three and a half acres of excellent paddock and garden, and Marjorie had once made a pilgrimage to Tynewood—Tynewood! Why that must be Sir James Tynewood's estate. She wondered if it was so, and resolved to ask Mr Vance at the earliest opportunity.

On her way to town that morning she went over the events of the previous night. What hold had this stranger from the South over Sir James Tynewood, she wondered? She would never forget the white face of the baronet when he had caught sight of the man in shabby grey. There was terror in one face and condemnation in the other. Was it blackmail? Was it the knowledge of some indiscretion of Sir James which gave this strange man power over the other? She found it hard to accept this view. There was something in Pretoria Smith's face which precluded the possibility of such an explanation. If ever honesty and steadfast purpose shone in a man's eyes, they showed in Pretoria Smith's.

She reached the office half an hour earlier than was usual. She did not wish to miss Mr Vance's telephone call, which came to her at eleven o'clock.

"Is everything all right, Miss Stedman?" he asked, and then she told him of the visitor.

"Smith?" said his voice sharply. "From Pretoria? I didn't expect him for a week. I am coming up to town straight away."

"He left no address," said the girl.

"I know where to find him," said Mr Vance. "Did he say anything?"

"Nothing at all," said the girl, "beyond what I have told you. Sir James came whilst he was here." She heard his exclamation.

"They met in the office? What happened?" asked the lawyer's voice anxiously.

"Nothing happened except that Sir James looked awfully worried and ill and went out immediately."

There was a long pause, and she thought he had hung up the telephone receiver.

Presently he said: "I am coming up by the eleven-forty-five. I shall be at the office just before one. Get your lunch early. Have you seen the newspapers?" he asked.

"No," she said in surprise. It was an unusual inquiry from him. "What has happened?"

"Nothing, except that Sir James Tynewood is married to Alma Trebizond, the actress," said the lawyer grimly "There is going to be some bad trouble in the Tynewood family"

Surprise was to follow surprise for the girl that day In the course of the morning came another stranger to the office—a stout, cheerful man, evidently of Hebraic origin. It was the practice of the firm to refer new business to the managing clerk; but he also was on a holiday and the visitor was shown into the girl.

"I understand you're Mr Vance's confidential secretary?" he said. "Is it possible to see Mr Vance today?"

She shook her head. "Mr Vance is coming to town on very important business, but I do not think that he wants to attend to any other," she said. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

The man put his silk hat carefully on the table and took out a large pocket-book and extracted a document.

"Well, miss, there's no secret about this," he said. "I've got to see Mr Vance some time before Monday and if I can't see him I'd like you to tell him that Mr Hawkes, of Hawkes & Ferguson, financiers, called with reference to Sir James Tynewood's debts."

"Sir James Tynewood's debts?" she repeated, puzzled, and he nodded.

"The young gentleman owes me twenty-five thousand pounds, borrowed on note of hand, and I'm getting a bit rattled about it. He keeps on renewing his bills and borrowing a bit more, and I want to see Mr Vance before I make any further advances."

"But Sir James Tynewood is a very rich man," said the girl.

"And I'm a very poor man," said the other with a grin, "and I want a bit of my stuff back."

"Have you already seen Mr Vance?"

The visitor shook his head. "No. Sir James has asked me to keep away from his lawyers, but matters have gone a little bit too far for me, miss. I'm a business man, and I have no respect for titles, being a democrat. The only titles that interest me are titles of property. I've kept away from Vance &Vance as long as I could, but I must have a bit on account. You see, miss, I'm a moneylender," he went on confidentially "and moneylenders know one another's business. I happen to know that Sir James has borrowed a lot of money from Crewe & Jacobsen and from Bedsons Ltd., and half a dozen other firms; and what's more, he's been going the pace in the West End. He's in debt left and right—why he owes the motor-car people in Bond Street over three thousand pounds for that car he gave to Alma Trebizond. When I saw the announcement in the paper this morning that he'd got married, I said to myself? Well, now, this is the time for me to have a bit of a marriage settlement!"

He chuckled at his feeble jest. Then, lowering his voice: "Now, look here, miss, I'm a business man and you're a business woman. I'll tell you frankly I have got scared about this money and if you can put in a word to Vance so that my claim's settled first, why there's a handsome commission for you."

"I'm afraid I'm not in the habit of taking commissions," said the girl coldly, "and I'm not even in a position to accept your confidence. I am merely Mr Vance's confidential stenographer, and I'm not so sure that he will be very pleased to hear that you have confided in me."

That ended the interview and Marjorie Stedman's acquaintance with the firm of Hawkes & Ferguson.

When Vance arrived she told him of the conversation and he was unusually grave. "Moneylenders, eh?" he said quietly. "I suspected something of that sort. Telegraph to Mr Herman to come into the office." Mr Herman was his managing clerk. "I won't bother you with this business, but Herman must go round and see these moneylenders and find out how much money this foolish boy owes."

"But Mr Vance, isn't Sir James very rich?"

"Very" said Mr Vance dryly.

That afternoon, although it was Saturday there were many comings and goings at the office. Mr Herman arrived and apparently went round in a taxicab interviewing Sir James Tynewood's creditors, or as many as could be found at that inconvenient period of the week.