Читать книгу Bernard Treves's Boots - Laurence Clarke - Страница 6

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That evening, when John Manton stepped off the boat at Lymington, a heavy summer rain was falling. In the town itself the streets appeared to be deserted, and it was some minutes before he encountered a workman hurrying home, with upturned collar. He inquired the way to Sade Road, and five minutes later came upon a row of small workmen's cottages with little gardens in front. Counting the houses until he came to number fifteen, he entered the garden gate, and, striking a match, discovered that he had halted at the right address. A woman came to the door in answer to his knock, and stood in the dark, looking out at him, opening the door only a few cautious inches.

"What do you want?"

Manton, with collar turned up and hat drawn over his brows, answered that he brought a letter for Lieutenant Treves.

"You'd better go up to him, then," said the woman, drawing open the door. "It's the front room at the top of the stairs."

There was a candle at the stair-head, and Manton passed her, ascended the single flight of steps and halted at the door. The smallness of the house, the shabbiness of the woman who had admitted him, depressed his spirits. He liked Captain Gilbert, with his sleek and buoyant confidence. This plan of his suddenly struck Manton as the wildest piece of quixotism.

He lifted his hand and knocked quietly upon the door. A voice from within instantly invited him to enter. A moment later he stood in a small lamp-lit bedroom. The room was littered with trunks, suit-cases, boxes and a general confusion of other articles. The close air reeked with the smell of Turkish cigarettes, and at a table near the window, with a lamp before him, sat a young man, busily occupied scribbling figures on a sheet of paper.

Bernard Treves, whose back was towards the door, wore mufti, and Manton, in the moment of entering, noticed that he was well dressed and that his hair was smooth and dark.

"If that's my supper, Mrs. Dodge," said Treves, "put it on the bed." He spoke without looking round, took a drink of whisky from a glass at his side, then went on with his figures.

Manton, standing near the door, coughed to attract his attention.

"Hallo!" exclaimed Treves, and turned swiftly. In an instant at sight of Manton his expression changed. He sprang to his feet in what appeared to be a state of terror, and stood staring at his visitor without uttering a word. With brows drawn together, he passed a hand over his eyes, then he turned, and, lifting his lamp from the table, held it aloft.

"Who are you?" he demanded savagely, "and what the devil do you want?"

John Manton took the letter from his pocket.

"I have come with a letter from your friend, Captain Gilbert," he answered quietly.

With his eyes still fixed on Manton, Treves lowered the lamp and replaced it on the table.

"A letter," he repeated, "from Gilbert? Give it to me." He held out his hand. "God!" he exclaimed, as he snatched the envelope, "coming in like that, you gave me a devil of a start. I thought that I was looking into my own face! Come nearer; come into the light."

Manton advanced farther into the room.

"I suppose these figures I've been poring over," went on Treves, "have made my eyes a bit wrong, but I've never seen anything like it." His nerve was gradually returning, and his astonishment was turning to amusement at the intensity of the resemblance between them.

"Look into the mirror there," he said. "Don't you think the likeness is amazing?"

Manton looked into the mirror, and then again at the young man, who had replaced the lamp on the table, and was tearing open Gilbert's envelope. As he scrutinised Treves's face and figure he, too, was astonished. He began to understand now something of Captain Gilbert's strange behaviour of the day before. But Manton had never been occupied over much with his own appearance; he took himself for granted, and after the first momentary flash of curiosity he thought no more of the resemblance. Besides, there was, after all, a difference. Treves wore a black moustache; his complexion was flushed, whereas Manton, as a result of gas poisoning at the Front, was still pale. Treves's eyes, moreover, were evasive and furtive in expression. Nevertheless, it would have been difficult to tell the two men apart.

"Sit down, Sergeant," Treves said. "Help yourself to a drink." He waved towards the whisky bottle and a siphon on the table. Upon Manton refusing the drink, Treves pushed towards him a box of cigarettes. Then read Captain Gilbert's missive through a second and a third time, and seemed to be considering it deeply with brows drawn together. "Do you know what is in this letter?" he questioned at last.

"No."

"Captain Gilbert told you nothing?"

"Nothing whatever, beyond saying that you might be willing to make some sort of offer."

"Well, he makes an extraordinary suggestion," went on Treves, leaning back in his chair. "It's all brought about by your resemblance to me." His eyes sought the letter again. "He tells me you are a public school boy and all that, and gives me here an outline of your little trouble at Scarthoe Head. Well, for certain reasons known to himself and to me, he thinks you may be able to make yourself useful to me. That is," he added, "if you are willing to undertake a somewhat delicate piece of work."

Manton looked inquiringly at Treves; he was not sure of the young man.

"Perhaps you will let me know the nature of the work."

"The fact of the matter is, Manton," Treves resumed, dropping his voice confidentially, "I am in want of help. Owing to certain peculiar circumstances, I want somebody to make use of my name and my personality for a short time."

He took up his whisky and Manton observed an almost imperceptible tremor of his fingers as they closed about the glass.

"Now, your extraordinary likeness to me, and the fact that you are in need of cash—well, do you see the point?"

"I'm afraid not," remarked Manton quietly.

Treves made a gesture of impatience.

"It's pretty plain, I should think. You need cash, I need some one to step into my shoes; somebody who must take the name of Bernard Treves. Now, do you understand?"

"Your suggestion is that I should pass myself off as you?"

"That's it exactly!"

His visitor stared at him in amazement.

"But I don't see," said he, "any advantage in that for either of us."

"Perhaps not. How much money are you in need of?" Treves inquired pointedly.

"Nearly one hundred and fifty pounds."

Treves whistled.

"Lot of money," he said.

John Manton agreed with him, and for a space there was silence. John's hopes that had risen fell to zero.

Then Treves poured himself another glass of whisky, and drank it down. He wiped his lips with a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket.

"All right," he said at length; "carry out my wishes and you shall have it."

"Then you are serious?"

"I was never more serious in my life. You are to take everything that is mine, and in return you shall have the money you need."

A vague doubt stirred in Manton's mind; then he thought of Gilbert. The Captain was most obviously a man of honour.

"If I accept, can I still enlist?"

"Enlist by all means."

"It seems to me to be an easy way of earning the money, but what about your rank in the army?"

Treves flashed a suspicious glance at him; there was a questioning expression in his eyes.

"If you accept my offer we can go into details later, and as regards my rank, I—I happen to be leaving the army."

"In that case," said Manton, "I am much obliged to you; the money will be a great boon to me."

"You accept?"

"Like a bird!" smiled Manton. "But there is one thing I would like to ask."

"Well?"

"The terms are generous enough," he said, "but what is to happen to my name; is that to disappear too?"

Bernard Treves lit a cigarette, and looked at him with the expression of one from whose mind has been lifted a heavy burden. He made an expressive gesture with his hand.

"For the time being," he answered, "the name of Sergeant Manton will vanish into thin air."