Читать книгу The Golden Hades - Edgar Wallace - Страница 6
ОглавлениеCHAPTER IV.
"I AM sorry to disturb you."
In the grey of the morning Wilbur Smith stood, hat in hand, at the door of a small apartment, and the elderly man who had opened the door, clad in an old overcoat which was worn over his pyjamas, gazed sleepily upon the unexpected visitor. "Here is my card."
The man took it and read.
"Police!" he said, startled. "Why, what's the matter?"
"There's nothing wrong— "
"Don't tell me that Margaret— "
"There's nothing wrong in the sense that your daughter is to blame. I suppose Miss Margaret Bishop is your daughter?"
"Come in, sir," said the man. The little room was furnished poorly but neatly.
"Is it about the money?" asked the man anxiously. "I didn't understand it. You see, Margaret asked Mr. Alwin because he had been so kind to her in the past. I was amazed when she brought the money back. I didn't know he was that rich. I thought there must be some mistake. Mr. Alwin has sent you?"
Wilbur shook his head.
"Not exactly," he said; "but if you don't mind I'd like to see your daughter."
He waited in some anxiety and was relieved to hear the girl's voice. Presently she came in, a little pale but looking pretty, he thought. She carried in her hand a bundle of notes.
"Is it about these?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Mr. Alwin gave them to me," she said, speaking agitatedly. "I thought there was a mistake, but I didn't think he would send— "
"He has not sent anybody, be assured of that. I have really come to see that you are safe," said Wilbur kindly.
"As to the money, you need not worry. I shall want it for a few days. At the end of that time, if nothing happens, I will return it to you."
"I hated asking Mr. Alwin at all," said the girl, "but daddy has been troubled about money, and we owe a lot of rent. I tried everybody before I asked Mr. Alwin, and I think I should have sunk through the floor with shame if he had refused. It's awful to ask," she faltered.
"Don't worry about that, please," said Wilbur with a little smile. "I am only concerned about you, about the danger— "
"The danger?" she asked quickly. "What do you mean? You said something about my safety!"
He was examining the notes under the gas. They each bore the yellow stamp.
"These are the ones," he said, and drew from his pocket the big bundle of notes which Frank had handed to him. The girl's mouth opened in astonishment at the sight of so much money.
"You see, the numbers are consecutive. I had better take a note of these."
He jotted some figures down on the leaf of his notebook and tore it out.
"Keep this for reference," he said. "Those are the numbers of the bills I have taken, and, as I say, they will be returned to you—if nothing happens. In the meantime"—he drew his own note-case from his pocket —"you must tell me how much money you wanted to borrow from Mr. Alwin."
He saw the blush that rose to the girl's cheek, and laughed.
"You must take this as a loan from Frank Alwin," he said, and winced at the thought that Alwin at that moment was probably dead. She named a sum in a low voice, and he extracted the bills and passed them to her.
* * * * *
WHEN he got to his office that morning, after two or three hours' sleep, he found a bunch of reporters waiting for him. Wilbur Smith had one way with the press, and it was the way of frankness, which he had found to pay ninety-nine per cent.— and the one per cent. didn't matter anyway.
"Yes, boys, it's perfectly true that Mr. Alwin has disappeared, and, so far as I know, has not been seen since last night." (He had been on the telephone before coming to the office.)
"There's a pretty big mystery behind his disappearance, and I have some sort of clue."
"Is there any connection between this crime and the Higgins Tenement Murder?" asked a reporter, and the detective nodded.
"I don't know how that story has got round, but there's a lot of truth in it," he said. "Alwin is a very good friend of mine, and you may be sure that I am not going to rest until I have tracked him and the men who took him away. Now, in case you get these facts all mixed up, I will tell you just what has happened," he added, and related the story of his meeting the actor in the theatre, of their dining together and of Alwin going out to answer a telephone call and disappearing. He made no reference either to the money or to the Golden Hades.
That was a matter, he thought, which could be left over until a future date might provide the press with further material. For the moment he had no desire to warn this mysterious agency, by letting them know that he associated the crime and its predecessors with themselves.
Whatever his views were, however, they were somewhat altered when a voice at the rear of the little group of reporters asked:
"What about the Golden Hades, Smith?"
Wilbur looked up sharply.
"Who's that?" he said, and a cub reporter was pushed forward.
"We received it at the office this morning," he said, laying a letter on the detective's table.
Wilbur opened it. Both paper and envelope were of the best quality, and the letter it contained was typewritten. It said:
Warn Wilbur Smith that, unless he wants his friends to die, he must let up on the Golden Hades.
Wilbur read the letter twice.
"When did this come?" he asked.
"About half an hour before I left the office. It was sent up on the tube to the city editor, who opened it and handed it to me," explained the newspaper man. "What does it mean, Smith?"
Wilbur smiled.
"I should rather like to know myself, son," he said. "So far, however, I am in the dark. I'll hold this letter if you don't mind—and even if you do mind," he added.
"But this isn't the first time you've heard of the Golden Hades?" persisted one of the reporters. "How much do you know, Mr. Smith?"
Wilbur looked at the young man squarely.
"That is exactly what the gang want to find out," he said, "and that is just what I'm not going to tell you. This letter was only sent for that purpose. Maybe Alwin is alive and in their hands and they are holding him to ransom. Maybe they'll kill him if I go any farther in the matter. But this you can bet on, that the object of sending that letter to your newspaper was to get you boys to dig out all I knew about the Golden Hades—and I'm not falling for it."
He dismissed the pressmen and walked into the office.
Grey-haired Flint heard the story without speaking.
"It sounds like something out of a story-book," he said when the other had finished, "and it's certainly unusual."
"It is right off all the usual lines," said Wilbur Smith. "Why, compared with this the Black Hand is child's play, and a Chinatown murder mystery is as simple as shelling peas."
The chief rubbed his bristly chin.
"Do you know what I'd do if I were you'?" he said. "I'd get Peter Correlly on this job."
"Peter Correlly!" said Smith quickly. "Why, of course! I never thought of him. I'll phone him to come over and see me in the office."
"Where's the money?" asked the chief. "In my safe. I'll show it to you." Flint examined the wad of money carefully.
"Obviously your first job is to discover how this came into the theatre. You've seen the property man, you say?"
"Yes," replied Smith. "I haven't yet interviewed the bill man. He may be able to throw some light on it. I'm taking the money to the Treasury," he explained as he wrapped and pocketed the bills, "because I'm anxious to trace the notes to the bank which issued them. Once that is done, I may be on the way to discovering the reason why this money made its appearance in such a queer way, and why the holder is in line for trouble the moment he slips the money into his pocket."
He went back to his office to phone Correlly, then left the building.
The officer on duty at the door saw him hail a taxi and go off.
Three hours later his seemingly lifeless body was found in a vacant lot near Jamaica Street; and when they got him to the hospital and put him to bed, and Peter Correlly searched his clothes, the money had disappeared.
