Читать книгу The Secret of the Barbican and Other Stories - J. S. Fletcher - Страница 7

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The Earl of Normanstowe flung away the newspaper which had just been handed to him, and looked defiantly round the semi-circle of faces, all eager and youthful as his own, which surrounded his armchair, set in a corner of the smoking-room which at that, his pet club, was regarded as the peculiar preserve of himself and his set.

“I will lay any man an even ten thousand pounds,” he said in calm but forceful accents, “that I walk out of this club to-night and hide myself in London for the space of one month without being found, let whatever efforts to find me be made by whoever likes to make ’em! Who takes me?”

The attendant faces slowly withdrew themselves from the contemplation of Lord Normanstowe’s healthy countenance and gave themselves to turning elsewhere. From the lips of one came a deep sigh.

“Wish I’d got ten thousand to lay at that game,” said their owner. “I guess I’d ferret you out in less than a month, Normanstowe.”

“I repeat that I’ll lay any man ten thousand pounds,” said Lord Normanstowe. “But—there’ll be conditions.”

“What conditions?” asked a member of the group. “Stiff ’uns, of course.”

“No, easy ones. All I would ask is 16 hours’ start. To be plain and matter-of-fact, I’ll put it like this: I’ll engage to walk out of this room at precisely 8 o’clock this evening and disappear in my own way. Whoever takes my bet engages not to do anything in the way of searching for me until 12 noon to-morrow. That’s giving me the 16 hours’ start I asked for, isn’t it?”

“And when the search begins, is the searcher to have a free hand? Can he do what he pleases? Employ the police, for instance,” asked somebody else. “Can he offer a reward? Can he stick up bills, placards?”

“He can do whatever he jolly well likes! He can offer a reward in hundreds or in thousands. He can subsidize all the private detectives, inquiry agents and investigation offices in London. He can get the whole of Scotland Yard at his back if it’s possible. All I say is that I’ll lay ten thousand to his ten thousand that I disappear at 8 o’clock to-night, and that I’m not found until I walk into this room at 8 o’clock in the evening precisely one month hence.”

“And you wouldn’t go out of town.”

“I wouldn’t go out of town.”

“What’s town to mean?” inquired a dark-visaged young gentleman who sat in a tilted chair in the corner. “Radius of one mile from St. James’ Street, say?”

“Rot!” answered Lord Normanstowe. “Radius of five miles from Charing Cross.”

“That’s a lot of country to cover,” remarked the young man in the corner. “There are thick coverts and deep woods within that bit.”

“It’s London, anyhow,” said Normanstowe. “What is it we’ve been talking about? Here’s an account in the newspaper about a chap walking out of a club in Pall Mall and disappearing so effectually that he can’t be found. You fellows say it’s impossible for any man of note to disappear in London except by collusion and design. I say that’s nonsense. I believe I’m pretty well known in more ways than one. Very good. But I say that without any help from anybody I will disappear for the space of a month. That’s my conviction. And I’ll back it to the extent of ten thousand.”

The dark-visaged young gentleman tilted his chair a little more.

“I’ll take you,” he said.

The semblance of a gentle sigh ran round the semi-circle. Normanstowe, phlegmatic as ever, half-turned towards a table furnished with writing materials.

“Good!” he said. “We’ll put it down in formal fashion. Chisholm, how did they do these things in the days of our grandfathers?”

“In the days of our grandfathers,” replied the man addressed, who was also the eldest of the group, “they kept a book in these places and entered up individual bets. As we don’t possess such an iniquitous thing here, we must make a half-sheet of the club notepaper suffice.”

He reached over to the table, and took paper and pen and laid a blotting pad on his knee.

“I’ll write it down,” he said. “I think I remember the phrasing of the old-time wagers. This is about it.” And he read slowly, as he wrote:

“ ‘Lord Normanstowe bets Sir Charles Wrigge ten thousand pounds that he, Lord Normanstowe, walks out of the Melatherium Club at 8 o’clock p.m., on October 20, 1904, disappears, and is not found by Sir Charles Wrigge nor by any person Sir Charles Wrigge employs to search for him, before he walks into the club at 8 o’clock p.m. on November 20, 1904. Lord Normanstowe engages not to go out of a radius of five miles from Charing Cross during the time of his disappearance.’ How’s that?” concluded Chisholm.

“All right, as regards me,” replied Normanstowe. “But now for Wrigge.”

“Oh, that’s similarly worded, with small differences,” said Chisholm, continuing to write, “This is it: ‘Sir Charles Wrigge bets Lord Normanstowe ten thousand pounds that he, Sir Charles, or persons employed by him, will find Lord Normanstowe, dead or alive, within the time and under the conditions specified in the bet made by Lord Normanstowe with him. Sir Charles Wrigge engages to give Lord Normanstowe 16 hours start dating from 8 o’clock p.m. on October 20, 1904.’ Now, if you’ll both initial this sheet of paper,” concluded Chisholm, “I’ll put it in my pocketbook, and the thing’s done.”

Wrigge laughed as he took and carefully put away his bit of paper.

“I shall find you before a fortnight’s up, Normanstowe,” he said, confidently.

“I’ll lay you another ten thousand you don’t,” exclaimed Normanstowe, with equal confidence. “Won’t have it? All right.” He pulled out his watch. “It’s 6.30. I’m going to make my preparations. When they are made, I shall dine here, comfortably, quietly. At precisely 8 o’clock I shall walk out of the dining-room and the house and into the street. And you will see me no more for one month.”

“During which time all London will ring with your name and fame,” remarked Chisholm. “Get your preparations made and we’ll all dine together.”