Читать книгу The House of Mammon - Fred M. White - Страница 5

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John Sairson and Co.'s premises were situated at St. Martin's House, one of the newest blocks in the city, and here the successful man of business made his money. The building itself was a large one, and, as a matter of fact, was Sairson's property. His own suite of offices was modest enough, consisting of two rooms on the first floor, with an extra apartment for a couple of clerks. The rest of the fine structure was let out to various commercial enterprises.

Sairson was supposed to be a kind of general commission agent, and he was rightly looked upon as a man of considerable substance. Shrewd and successful, he was a keen hand at a bargain and a hard taskmaster. It was a difficult matter to picture John Sairson as a country gentleman taking an interest in a fine old estate. He looked remote enough from Marlton Grange as he sat at his desk; his mind was far from the grey house bathed in the sunshine, the brown pools of the lake where the lilies bloomed under the shadow of the beeches.

He was a big, loose-limbed man, with a heavy face and pendulous cheeks. His red-rimmed eyes were shifty and unsteady, unless money was being discussed, when they focussed themselves like those of a cat watching a bird's every movement. Sairson's dress was a compromise between that of the business man and the country gentleman. In expansive moments he was fond of boasting of his place on the east coast. But he rarely put in more than a week-end there, and even that at intervals.

He turned over a mass of papers impatiently and rang his bell. A clerk entered and waited respectfully for his employer to speak. Sairson looked at him sourly.

"Have you got those contracts ready for me?"

"Yes, sir," the clerk replied. "They are on the desk by the bookcase, sir. I have seen that everything is in order. If you would like to go through them again, sir——"

"Of course I should like to go through them again," Sairson growled. "It's an important matter, as you know, Partridge. It will take me an hour or more, and I am not to be disturbed. No matter who calls or desires to see me, I must not be disturbed. If any clerk dare knock at the door before 12 o'clock, out of the office he goes."

Sairson spoke in the loud dominating tones of the bully. The wretched clerk listened meekly. He was a struggling man with a family, and used to the kind of thing.

"Very good, sir," he said humbly. "It shall be as you say. If anybody calls you are out and not expected back till midday. Anything else, sir?"

Sairson dismissed the man with a gesture, and put the latch of the door down after the clerk departed. It was a strong door fitted with a Yale lock framed in steel. To appearance it was no more than an ordinary office door, but in reality it was nearly as strong as that of a safe.

Sairson smiled with the air of a man who is pleased with himself, took a cigar from a box on the table, and lighted it. The office was lined with books of various kinds from floor to ceiling. Sairson touched one of the books, and immediately a portion of the centre of the wall slid back and disclosed a room beyond. Sairson stepped into it and then shut the false partition behind him. He had entered another office which was back to back with his own, and opened into another corridor. It was a private room, and the door was fitted with a similar steel frame and Yale lock. Once more Sairson smiled with the air of one who is not displeased with himself.

This was a different room altogether. It was far more luxuriously furnished. The apartment was almost extravagantly furnished, the pictures on the wall were good, and the carpet was real Persian. Sairson put up the catch of the lock and rang the bell sharply.

There came in prompt answer to the summons a tall man with a faint suggestion of the athlete about him. He was fat and puffy, like his employer, but had the air of one who has been intimate with the covert-side, the cricket-field, the river, and the racquet-court. Under his collar he wore the colors of a famous cricket club. With it all he had the air of a man broken down and beaten in the daily conflict with the world. A certain quivering of the lips and shakiness of the hand told their story.

"Now, Gosway," Sairson said curtly. "Anything doing?"

"Not very much this morning," Gosway answered with a touch of familiarity. "Some half-dozen applications I have gone through. For the most part they are no good. I thought perhaps you might like to see two of them. Both for biggish amounts."

"All right," Sairson said. "I'll look at them presently. Better make appointments this afternoon for the two likely ones. I'm glad there isn't much doing, for I want to get away into the country as soon as possible. No more of those anonymous letters, I suppose?"

A gleam of malice glistened in Philip Gosway's moist eyes.

"No more letters," he said significantly. "You were foolish not to consult the police. You could have managed it easily enough. Nobody would have recognised you if you had appeared before a magistrate. Not a soul in England could connect John Sairson with——"

"Except yourself and one other man," Sairson interrupted impatiently, "and the other person happens to be the very person whom you advise me to prosecute. We shall have to buy him off. After all, it's only a question of money. If he should presume to come here——"

"My dear sir, he has been here," Gosway said impressively. "He was here an hour ago. If I had not been a bit of an athlete still there might have been trouble. And you may clear your mind of cant as far as your previous money is concerned. He would not hear of it. From what I can gather, money is the last thing he is thinking about. He scoffed at the suggestion."

"Then what the devil does he want?" Sairson asked testily.

"Revenge! The man is more or less mad. He has brooded over his wrongs till they have turned his head. He looks to me as if he had been drinking heavily as well. It's that or drugs. He looked like a lean and hungry wolf. I had great trouble in persuading him that you were not here. Goodness knows where he got the information from. If you meet him alone in some dark corner late at night, look to yourself!"

Sairson blinked uneasily. His big face was white and flabby, and he glanced suspiciously at the man before him.

"You're not in the infernal game?" he asked hoarsely.

"You know I'm not," Gosway replied. "I'm too much under your thumb for that. If I had been a man of that sort I should have stuck a knife into your ribs long ago. When I came to you first I was a happy man with a good record in my regiment; I went in first wicket down for the good old club whose colors I still wear. When you had sucked me dry I was a broken man with nothing to cling to but my little girl, who does not know how her wretched father gets a living. I do not forget that you could send me to gaol if you wanted to—if I were likely to forget it your constant reminders would keep the fact before me. Men I used to know at one time come here and sometimes recognise me. That is part of the punishment of my folly. But you are safe from me because my girl has to be thought of. Otherwise I believe I'd have broken your neck long ago. For the sake of the child I am loyal to you. All the same, unless you help yourself——"

Gosway paused and shrugged his shoulders meaningly. The cold contempt of his words seemed to arouse no feeling in Sairson. He pulled nervously at his cigar, and his brow knitted in a frown.

"All the same, it is a confounded nuisance," he muttered. "It won't avail me to pursue that matter I was talking to you about so long as that man knows anything."

"Not a bit," Gosway grinned. "You are known here as an elderly man with black hair and beard. Your spectacles and white waistcoat are quite artistic in their way. And it is a bit rough after you have planned everything so carefully to find yourself cornered by the one man you have to fear."

Sairson did not appear to be listening. He chewed the end of his cigar savagely.

"Did he say he would call again?"

"No, he didn't," Gosway explained. "He led me to understand that he had another scheme. He said he was going to the country for a day or two; would spend his money on a ticket to some place on the east coast. You can probably guess what that means!"

Sairson's florid face assumed a sickly green hue.

"I don't like it," he commented. "I don't like it at all. Leave the office to Griffin for an hour or two and go and find the fellow. Take a fiver out of the petty cash and spend it freely if necessary. Before I go out of town to-day I must know the movements of that man. If you have done your duty by me you will know where to put your hand on him."

"I have done all I have been asked to do," Gosway protested. "You can rely upon me to let you know something definite before the afternoon is over. Where shall I send it to?"

"Oh! send it to my club. Let me have a telegram or an express letter. If anybody calls, say that I shall not be back till Monday."

Gosway retreated into the outer room, carefully closing the door behind him. The Yale lock clicked, and Sairson was alone once more. He crossed over to a cupboard and produced a flask of liqueur brandy. He drank two glasses of the red spirit, and the florid red came back into his face again.

"Curse the follow to all eternity!" he burst out presently. "Why does he carry on like this? He lost his money with his eyes wide open, but could have got it back again but for his idiotic pride. As if it mattered in the least! No one need ever have known that the girl—— But it is idle to speculate as to what might have happened. The fellow is a dangerous lunatic, and will do me a mischief if he gets the chance. There's one way yet——"

Sairson returned presently into his own office again and closed the false door behind him. He pulled back the catch of the lock and rang the bell.

"I can see nobody to-day, Partridge," he remarked. "I am going into the country at 5, and shall probably not be back till Monday. I'm not feeling at all well, and a day or two in the fresh air will set me up again."

Partridge received certain further instructions and departed. It was nearly 5 o'clock before Sairson had tea at his club, and then rose with the intention of summoning the dining-room waiter to call a taxi-cab to take him to Liverpool street. At that moment another waiter entered with an express letter on a tray which he handed to Sairson.

"Just come for you, sir."

Sairson snatched up the letter and tore off the envelope. There was only one significant line.

"Don't go home to-night. Dangerous for you to travel on the East Coast."

With a savage execration Sairson strode over to the writing-table and grabbed a telegraph form.