Читать книгу The Leopard's Spots - Fred M. White - Страница 8

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"Make good," Stokes said. "I shouldn't have troubled about you in the least, only the lady I speak of is in reduced circumstances. You had the whole of her thousand pounds. I suppose you were hard up at the time, and could not refrain from making one mouthful of it. But that money has got to be repaid, every penny of it. I am not vindictive, I am no financial Don Quixote out to tilt at the windmills of all the bucket-shops in the city of London. And if I did expose you in the 'Searchlight' you would be playing the same game in another neighbourhood within a week. Find that money, and we'll say no more about it. When can you pay it?"

"Upon my word, I don't know," Stagg said. "Not within less than a month. I am bound to admit that your letter came at a most inopportune time."

"Really? What about that little bungalow of yours down on Minchin Common?"

"Mortgaged to the last penny," Stagg said. "I can't do anything just yet, I can't really. But there, I never know. To-morrow's postbag might solve the whole difficulty. Suppose I come and see you in the course of a few days?"

"Suppose you come and see me to-morrow between 10 and 12?" Stokes said. "I have an idea that you might be useful to me in certain investigations. It's a big thing involving huge sums of money, and if I can bring about what I want it will be the finest advertisement the 'Searchlight' ever had. And I would cheerfully pay a heavy sum for it. Now, there is nothing in the way of city rascality that you haven't got at your fingertips. You know the ropes as few men do. And that innocent face of yours and that blandly benevolent grey hair ought to be a passport anywhere. It only just occurred to me on the spur of the moment, but the more I think it over the more I like the notion. Yes, you come in to-morrow morning any time before 12, and we'll talk it over."

"All right," Stagg said. "I can stay in town to-night at a little place I have, and I'll be along some time in the morning. I'll help myself to another drink it you don't mind, because I have had rather a shock this evening."

"Oh, indeed? But surely, after my letter, you must have been prepared for something—"

"Oh, I don't mean that," Stagg interrupted. "It was a different sort of shock altogether. But I'm not going to say anything about that. Well, here's luck. Nosey."

Stokes grinned sardonically.

"Same to you, my friend," he said. "Though you have had more luck than you deserve these many years past. Yet I am not displeased to see you again; you always were an amusing scamp, and I am rather partial to 'em."

Stagg turned his feet thoughtfully westward with just one fleeting glance at the house next door. He saw that it was all in darkness now, and wondered what the beautiful woman with the black eyes felt when she found out she had been mistaken in the character of the man she had welcomed into the house under a wrong impression. Had the right man turned up, and what took place when he made his appearance? Also, what manner of man was Dr. Gilbert of Wilby Crescent? And how were those people going to get out of the mess in which they had found themselves?

"Well, it's no business of mine," Stagg murmured to himself as he walked along. "I don't suppose I shall see any of those people again. All the same, I'll keep my eyes upon the papers for the next day or two, in case of developments, and I must certainly make a note of the name of Gilbert. Possibly Dr. Gilbert may be useful some of these days."

Stagg came at length to a respectable little house not vary far off, into which he let himself with his latchkey. He had a bedroom there, and quite a fair wardrobe, for on such occasions as he was detained late in town he put up there. For a long time he sat on the side of his bed smoking cigarettes and ruminating over the events of the evening. It occurred to him presently that he had an exceedingly valuable piece of jewellery in his pocket, and this he proceeded to examine carefully at his leisure by the aid of an electric reading lamp which he kept by the side of his bed. He was a bit of a connoisseur in most things, and his judgment told him that here was an article of considerable value. Not intrinsically, perhaps, but judging from the quaintness and old design of the setting evidently belonging, at one time, to some historic collection. There were two minute fractures on points of the star which suggested that at one time there had been two of them. The other one, no doubt, had already been broken up, probably not long before it came into Stagg's possession.

So far as he could judge, there had been a robbery of famous family gems lately, and they had found their way to the mysterious house in Porchester-place. And there, no doubt, there had been a quarrel over the division of the plunder leading up to a grim tragedy—in fact, the woman with the black eyes had as good as said so. That Stagg would hear more of this he felt certain. It must get in the papers before long, and until then, he would pursue a policy of masterly inactivity. If there was no inquiry, and no scandal, then he would remove their stones from the setting and dispose of them one by one. This would mean a considerable loss; but, on the other hand, would be perfectly safe, and, in any event, meant a couple of hundred pounds or so achieved by what Stagg humorously called no hindrance to present occupation. And with this pleasant thought in his mind he went to bed.

It was not long after ten the following morning that he found himself once more in Porchester-place. He was just mounting the steps of Stokes' house when he glanced at the windows next door. The blinds were all down, and in the dining-room window was a card to the effect that the premises would be let furnished; apply to Curtain and Co., Gloucester-road.

Here was a surprise. Beyond doubt the people next door had cleared out, bag and baggage; probably they had found some means of disposing of the body of the dead man and no doubt by this time the lady with the magnetic eyes and her deaf and dumb servant were far enough away.

"Oho," Stagg whispered softly. "The birds have flown. Well, I might have expected it. I think I'll just walk round as far as Curtain's and make a few inquiries. There is no hurry so far as Stokes is concerned."

Messrs Curtain and Co. were perfectly willing to give every information, especially to a distinguished looking client who informed them that he thought that the house in Porchester-place would suit his requirements exactly.

"But I thought it was let," he said. "I passed it yesterday afternoon—"

"So it was, sir," the clerk said. "A wealthy American gentleman and his wife. They paid a month's rent in advance, and we engaged servants for them. But the lady came in early this morning and informed us that pressing business called them back to the States again. They forfeited the month's rent and gave me a month's wages for each servant. So I slipped round just now and put a card on the window at once."

"Can you come round there with me?" Stagg asked.

The clerk not only could, but would. For half an hour or so Stagg wandered about the deserted house, searching in vain for any sort of clue. He did not ask the name of the people, because he knew only too well that the one they had given to the agents was assumed. But there was nothing anywhere likely to be the slightest use. The jewel cases had vanished, and so had the little pile of gold settings from which the stones had been carefully removed.

Upstairs in the big bedroom where Stagg had gazed upon the features of the dead man everything was in perfect order. The bed had been made and the eiderdown lay neatly upon it.

"I think that will do," Stagg said. "I'll come round and see your people in the course of the afternoon."