Читать книгу The Green Bungalow - Fred M. White - Страница 7

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Shute burst into a torrent of curses, so loud and deep as to bring a look of something like pain to Blythe's features. Not that he was feeling any sort of resentment, because this display of temper was precisely what he wanted. Shute, cool and calculating, was a proposition to be tackled, but Shute in this passionate mood would be something like clay in the hands of the potter, where a cool diplomatist like Blythe was concerned.

"What the devil do you want here?" Shute said, catching his breath. "Why do you come butting into my affairs? I should have thought a man at the top of his profession, as you are, would have scorned to help himself to the property of a——"

"Brother thief. Precisely," Blythe said coolly. "Don't you think it would pay you a good deal better to sit down and talk the matter over quietly? You know what I am; you know that if once I made up my mind to a thing, it is not the slightest use to try and turn me. I came down here with a definite object in my mind, but fortunately for the man I had in my eye, I hit upon the trail of what I considered to be better game. No doubt it is annoying that the bird in question legitimately belongs to your barrel, but there you are. Now, I have got a pretty shrewd idea of what you are up to, and with your consent I am going to stand in."

"And if I refuse?" Shute snarled.

"Oh, you won't refuse, my dear fellow. People in our exclusive society are not usually in the habit of refusing anything that Hilton Blythe suggests. There have been cases, of course, but the other party to the contract, so to speak, has always been exceedingly sorry for it afterwards. And because I don't want to have any unpleasant mess with you, I came over here this evening to discuss the matter in an amicable spirit."

Shute raged up and down the sitting room whilst Blythe sat in his chair smoking a cigarette, and nursing the yellow-covered volume he had been reading on his knee. He was like some lion-tamer waiting for the rebellious animal to get over his passion, and realise that he was in the presence of his master.

"Ah, that's better," Blythe smiled, as Shute threw himself into a chair. "I thought you would come to see matters in a reasonable light. I suppose you have read this book?"

"Well, suppose I have. What about it?"

"Yes, I see you have read it, and a very ingenious story it is. With a mind like yours, of course, the possibilities of the story in the way of a practical conspiracy would appeal almost irresistible. Here is the credulous fool with money, the proud possessor of a yacht, and all you have to do is to get him in your power. Once that is done, you can use the yacht for smuggling purposes to cover still more deep designs. Now, it happens that I read that book some time ago, and when I came down here and saw what you were doing with young Roy Harley, I remembered all about that American story called 'The Lonely House.'"

"Ah," Shute muttered under his breath. "But go on."

"My dear fellow, is there any occasion to go on? I wanted to refresh my memory with another look at that story, and, feeling pretty sure that you had a copy in your bungalow, I burgled the premises and found it. And now I know pretty well what you and that rascal Macglendy are up to. And I am coming in. Oh, you can fling yourself about and curse as much as you like, but the fact remains. How you managed to get a clean honourable youngster like Harley under your thumb I don't know, because there is nothing of that in the book, and probably you worked out a little trap of your own. It doesn't matter two straws to me how you managed to throw the net over Harley, but I know that you have done so. And I know that your present game is smuggling saccharine."

"Are you quite sure of that?" Shute sneered.

"Well, that is what the characters in the story were doing, and you seem to have stuck to the text pretty faithfully. If you are up to some ulterior game on a bigger scale, then I shall be glad to hear of it at your convenience. Meanwhile, let me compliment you on these quarters of yours. Upon my word, this bungalow a little apart from the rest, with its almost secret landing place between those concrete walls, is an ideal as if it had been erected for the purpose of a cinematograph company."

"As a matter of fact, it was built by the Government during the war," Shute said sulkily. "Yes, it's all right from our point of view, but I don't quite see yet why we should take you in."

"Of course you don't," Blythe smiled amiably. "It's deuced hard lines to have to give away a third of the plunder, after you and Macglendy have done all the work, but then you see, I am more or less a master of the situation. Oh, I am not going to give you away. Dog does not eat dog, you know, but I can step in and spoil your little game by giving Harley a hint or two as to the company he is keeping. He, poor boy, has not the least idea that Macglendy is really a Jew with a picturesque name, and a swindler known to the police all over Europe. Harley regards you as a man of position and a mighty traveller, who is just at present writing a book of reminiscences. What you really are, we need not go into. Now come, what is the use of playing with me like this?"

Shute rose to his feet again, and paced up and down the room with a scowl on his face. He would like to have fought this man, he would like to have defied him, even if it came to personal violence. He and Blythe were alone in the bungalow in the dead of night, and in a table drawer, not far off, was a revolver which, swiftly handled, might have got Blythe out of the way for all time. And the thing would have been safe enough. One shot, and Blythe would cease to trouble him, then, with a weight at his feet, he might be dropped into the sea at the end of the concrete landing place, and his picturesque career would be over for good and all. Nor would any inquiries have been made, for Shute knew well enough that there was not a soul in England who would have mourned the death of the man who sat opposite to him with a mocking smile upon his face. These thoughts were so plainly expressed in Shute's eyes that Blythe laughed.

"I wouldn't try that on if I were you," he said.

"Try on what?" the startled Shute demanded.

"Oh, violence. I am a thought reader, you see, and I can see you looking at that little drawer in the card table yonder. Probably you have got a revolver there, but we don't want any melodrama. You are thinking that I shouldn't be missed, but there you are mistaken. I never do anything without taking precautions."

As if he had been a mechanical figure, suddenly run down, Shute dropped breathlessly into his chair.

"Curse you," he muttered. "Go on."

"My dear fellow, there is nothing to go on about. I thought it was understood that we were going into partnership over this business and that I was to have my share of the plunder. If that is settled, then I don't mind telling you that I have a little scheme of my own, by which you and Macglendy would benefit."

"Why didn't you say that before?" Shute growled. "Now, help yourself to a drink, and try one of those cigars. You have got to the bottom of the whole business. Any man must be a fool who tries to deceive Hilton Blythe. It's not a bad scheme we've got here but the profits are nothing like as large as you imagine. We smuggle saccharine on board a sort of a yacht we have hired, and we land it here from a motor boat. Then Macglendy, who frequently runs up to London on business, conceals the stuff in his car, and disposes of it at a tailor's shop in the Minories, where he is supposed to be in partnership with the people. Of course, if we had a really good yacht, like Harley's, and we could pose as friends of his, cruising about in the Channel, so a to avoid all sorts of suspicion, then we could carry on the trade in a wholesale way."

"I see," Blythe said thoughtfully. "Yes, it sounds good enough, but you've got to get Harley under your thumb first."

"That we have already done," Shute said with an ugly grin. "He doesn't realise the fact quite yet, but it's true, all the same."

"I don't want to go into that," Blythe said carelessly. "It is a thing that is much more in your line than mine. I may be a bit sentimental, but I never took advantage of an honest youngster yet, beyond relieving him of his spare cash. Still, when you've got a really big thing on, it's as well not to be too squeamish. And that reminds me, I told you just now that I have got a little scheme of my own on, which might bring in a thousand or two in the next two or three days, only unfortunately, I came down here without one or two of the necessary properties, as they say on the stage, and I am afraid my man has slipped through my fingers. I have got an appointment with him to-morrow afternoon, and it occurred to me that you might be able to lend me a pack or two of cards."

"Snide ones, I suppose?" Shute laughed.

"Well, that's what it comes to. I didn't arrange my Brighton trip with a view to that sort of thing, so I come away without any of my professional apparatus. I could get what I want from town by return of post, but that might be too late."

"As it happens I can let you have exactly what you require. You will find what you want in the drawer of that card-table yonder."

Blythe rose casually and strolled in the direction of the table. He saw exactly what he wanted to know at a glance—two packs of apparently unbroken cards which his professional eye recognised as the right thing, and, lying by the side of them, two further packs which were, to all appearance, the honest and genuine thing. He made no comment as to this, but, taking the packs he wanted, dropped them casually into his pocket, and came back to his seat. There was nothing in the expression on his face to show that he had made a startling discovery which, sooner or later, was destined to have a powerful effect upon the fortunes of Roy Harley.

"Yes, I think that will about do," he said. "We understand one another perfectly now, and we must have a meeting to discuss certain details that occur to me. I see that Macglendy is more or less in clover in Brunswick Square, and perhaps you could arrange a little dinner there. Now, I think I will be getting along. It's a fair walk to Brighton, but I shall enjoy it on a nice evening like this. So long, and don't take any further steps till you have heard from me again."

With that, Blythe put on his hat, and, helping himself to a fresh cigar, turned out into the night. Then he walked back to Brighton on the best of terms with himself.