"There certainly has been a robbery," I replied, "and the stones may have been offered to you, but not in the way you mean. The fact of the matter is, I want to discover whether or not a large consignment of uncut rubies and sapphires of great value have been placed upon the market within the last two months."

"Uncut rubies and sapphires are being continually placed upon the market," he observed, leaning back in his chair and rattling his keys.

"But not such stones as those I am looking for," I said, and furnished him with the rough weights that had been supplied to me.

"This is interesting—decidedly interesting," he remarked. "Especially since it serves to offer an explanation on a certain matter in which we have been interested for some little time past. On the sixteenth of last month, a gentleman called upon us here, who stated that he had lately returned from the Far East. He had had, so he declared, the good fortune to discover a valuable mine, the locality of which he was most careful not to disclose. He thereupon showed my partner and myself ten stones, consisting of five rubies and five sapphires, each of which weighed between fifty-five and sixty carats."

"And you purchased them?"

"We did, and for a very heavy sum. I can assure you the vendor was very well aware of their value, as we soon discovered, and he was also a good hand at a bargain. Would you care to see the stones? I shall be pleased to show them to you if you would."

"I should like to see them immensely." I replied.

Thereupon he crossed the room to a safe in the corner, and, when he had unlocked it, took from it a wash-leather bag. Presently ten superb gems were lying before me on the table.

"There they are," he said, waving his hands towards them, "and as you can see for yourself, they are worthy of being set in the crown of an emperor. It is not often that we are enthusiastic in such matters, but in this case we have very good reason to be. When they are properly cut, they will be well nigh priceless."

"Do you happen to know whether he sold any more of a similar kind in London?" I asked, as he returned them to their place in the safe.

"I know that he sold fifteen smaller ones to Henderson and Soil, and three almost as large as those I have just shown you to a firm in Amsterdam."

"If he is the man I want to get hold of, that accounts for twenty-eight," I said, making a note of the fact as I spoke. "Originally he had ninety-three in his possession."

"Ninety-three?" the merchant replied, as if he could scarcely believe his ears. "Why, his mine must be a source of unlimited wealth. I wish I had known this before."

"So do I," I said. "And now perhaps you can go further and furnish me with a description of the man himself. I shall then be able to tell you whether my gentleman and your customer are one and the same person."

"I can describe him to you perfectly well. He was tall, but somewhat sparely built, very sunburnt—which would be accounted for by his long residence in the East—his hair was streaked with grey, he had dark eyes, and a singularly sharp nose."

"Did he wear a beard?"

"No, only a moustache. The latter was carefully trimmed, and, I think, waxed. Of this, however, I am not quite certain."

"And his name?"

"He would not tell us that. We pressed him to disclose it, but he obstinately refused to do so. He said that if his name became known it might lead to the discovery of his mine, and that he was naturally anxious that such an event should not occur."

"But what guarantee had you that the stones were not stolen?"

"None whatever—but it is most unlikely. In the first place, they are uncut; in the second, we have had them in our possession for some time, and you may be sure have made the closest inquiries. Besides, there are few such stones in Europe, and what there are, are safely in the possession of their owners. Surely you are not going to tell me that they were stolen?"

In the man's voice there was a perceptible note of alarm.

"I don't think you need be afraid," I said. "They were stolen by the man from his two partners, and all they want is to get hold of him in order to make him disgorge their share of what he got for them."

"I am glad indeed to hear that," was the reply. "I was beginning to grow uneasy. And now is there any other way in which I can serve you? If so, I shall be only too pleased to do it."

I informed him that, if I had anything else to ask him I would call upon him again, and then took my departure. While I was in a great measure satisfied with the information I had gained, I was not altogether easy in my mind. The question to be answered was, was the man I was after the same individual who had sold Jacob and Bulenthall the stones? The description given me varied in several particulars to that furnished me by Kitwater. My client declared him to possess black hair; the merchant had said grey; the one had declared that Hayle possessed a beard, the other that he had only a waxed moustache. The figure, however, was in both cases identically the same.

Having satisfied myself that he had no more to tell me, I thanked him for his courtesy and left the office. A fresh idea had occurred to me which I thought might lead to something, and I resolved to put it into practice without any further waste of time.



CHAPTER IV

It would be a truism to declare that human nature is about as complicated a piece of machinery as could be found in the human world. And yet I do not know why it should be considered so. All things and all men do not run in grooves. A man to be a criminal need not be hopelessly bad in every other sense. I have met murderers who did not possess sufficient nerve to kill a rabbit, burglars who would rob a poor man of all his possessions in the world, and yet would not despoil a little child of a halfpenny. The fact of the matter is we all have our better points, our own innate knowledge of good and evil. Hayle had betrayed Kitwater and Codd in the cruellest fashion possible, and by so doing had condemned them to the most fiendish torture the mind of man could conceive. Yet it was through his one good point, his weakness, if I might so describe it, that I was enabled to come to my first grip with him.

It was between the hours of two and three that I entered the gates of Brompton Cemetery and commenced my examination of the various graves therein contained. Up one path I wandered and down another in search of the resting-place of the poor crippled sister of whom Gideon Hayle had been so fond. It was a long time before I found it, but at last I was successful. To my astonishment the stone was plainly a new one, and the grave was tastefully decorated with flowers. As a matter of fact it was one of the prettiest in its neighbourhood, and to me this told its own tale. I went in search of the necessary official and put the case to him. He informed me that I was correct in my supposition, and that the stone had only lately been erected, and, what was more to the point, he informed me that the gentleman who had given the order for it, had only the week before paid the necessary sum for insuring the decoration of the grave for many years to come.

"I gather from your words, that the gentleman, who must be a relative of the deceased, has been here lately," I said.

"He was here last Sunday afternoon," the man replied. "He is a most kindly and generous gentleman, and must have been very fond of his sister. The way he stood and looked at that stone the last time he was here was touching to see. He'd been in foreign parts, sir, and is likely to go out there again, so I gathered from what he said. It is a pity there are not more like him."

This was news, indeed, and I pricked up my ears on hearing it.

Having learnt all I was likely to discover, I thanked the man for his kindness and left the cemetery. If I had done nothing else, I had at least satisfied myself upon one point, and this was the fact that Gideon Hayle had been in London within the week. Under such circumstances it should not be very difficult to obtain his address. But I knew from experience that when things seemed to be running most smoothly, they are as much liable to a breakdown as at any other time—sometimes even more so. I accordingly hailed a cab and drove back to my office. Once there I entered up my diary according to custom, wrote a note to Kitwater, informing him that I had discovered that Gideon Hayle had not left London on the previous Sunday, and also that I believed him to have negotiated certain of the stones in London, after which I returned to my hotel to dine.

Most people who know me would tell you that it might be considered consistent with my character that I still occupied the same apartments in the private hotel, off the Strand, in which I had domiciled myself when I first arrived in England. If I am made comfortable I prefer to stick to my quarters, and the hotel in question was a quiet one; the cooking and the service were excellent, and, as every one did his, or her, best for me, I saw no sort of reason for moving elsewhere. It is something in such matters to know the people with whom one has to deal, and in my case I could not have been better cared for had I been a crowned head. I suppose I am a bit of a faddist in these things. Except when business compels me to break through my rule, I rise at the same hour every morning, breakfast, lunch, and dine at the same time, and as far as possible retire to rest punctually at the usual moment. After dinner in those days, things have changed since then somewhat. I invariably smoked a cigar, and when the evening was fine, went for a stroll, returning between nine and ten and retiring to rest, unless I had anything to attend to, punctually at eleven. On this particular occasion, the night being fine, though rather close, I lit my cigar in the hall and stepped out into the street exactly as the clock was striking eight. I had a lot to think of, and felt just in the humour for a walk. London at all hours is a fascinating study to me, and however much I see of her, I never tire of watching her moods. After I left my hotel I strolled along the Embankment so far as the Houses of Parliament, passed the Abbey, made my way down Victoria Street, and then by way of Grosvenor Place to Hyde Park Corner. Opposite Apsley House I paused to look about me. I had my reasons for so doing, for ever since I had left the river-side, I had entertained the notion that I was being followed. When I had crossed the road at the Houses of Parliament, two men, apparently of the loafer class, had crossed too. They had followed me up Victoria Street, and now, as I stood outside the Duke of Wellington's residence, I could see them moving about on the other side of the way. What their intentions were I could not say, but that their object was to spy upon my movements, I was quite convinced. In order to assure myself of this fact I resolved to lay a little trap for them. Passing down Piccadilly at a sharp pace, I turned into Berkeley Street, some twenty yards or so ahead of them. Crossing the road I sheltered myself in a doorway and waited. I had not been there very long, before I observed that they had turned the corner and were coming along in hot pursuit. That they did not notice me in my hiding-place is evident from the fact that they passed on the other side of the street, and doubtless thinking that they had missed me, commenced to run. I thereupon quitted my friendly doorway, returned to Piccadilly, hailed a cab, and drove back to my hotel. As I went I turned the matter over in my mind. With the exception of the present case I had nothing important on hand, so that I could think of no one who would be likely to set a watch upon me. That I did not suspect Hayle would only be natural under the circumstances, as I did not know then that he had been the witness of Kitwater and Codd's visit to my office that afternoon, and I felt convinced in my own mind that he was unaware that they were in England. It was most natural, therefore, that I should not in any way associate him with the plot.

The following day was spent for the greater part in making further inquiries in Hatton Garden, and among the various Dutch merchants then in London. The story the senior partner of Messrs. Jacob and Bulenthall had told me had proved to be correct, and there could be no sort of doubt that Hayle had realized a very large sum of money by the transaction. What was more, I discovered that he had been seen in London within the previous twenty-four hours. This was a most important point, and it encouraged me to persevere in my search. One thing, however, was remarkable. One or two of the merchants to whom Hayle had disposed of his stones, had seen more of him than Messrs. Jacob and Bulenthall. Two had dined with him at a certain popular restaurant in Regent Street, and had visited a theatre with him afterwards. In neither case, however, had they discovered his name or where he lived. This secret he guarded most religiously, and the fact that he did so, afforded additional food for reflection. If he imagined his old companions to be dead, why should he be so anxious that his own identity, and his place of residence, should remain a secret? If they were safely out of the way, no one could possibly know of his connection with them, and in that case he might, if he pleased, purchase a mansion in Park Lane and flourish his wealth before the eyes of the world, for any harm it might do him. Yet here he was, exciting mistrust by his secrecy, and leading a hole-and-corner sort of life when, as I have said, there was not the slightest necessity for it. Little by little I was beginning to derive the impression that the first notion of Mr. Hayle was an erroneous one, and that there was more in him than I supposed. This sentiment was destined to be strengthened and in the very near future, by two remarkable discoveries.

That evening I again went for a walk. Feeling fairly confident, however, that the men who had followed me before would do so again, I took certain precautions before I set out. One of my subordinates, a man remarkable for his strength, was ordered to be at the corner of my street at half-past eight. He was to wait there until I emerged from my hotel, himself remaining as far as possible out of sight. On this occasion I had planned my route deliberately. I made my way in the first place along the Strand as far as Trafalgar Square, down Cockspur Street by way of the Haymarket to Regent Street, then on by Langham Place to that vast network of streets that lies between Oxford Street and the Euston Road.

I had some time before this found out that I was being followed again. The two men who had dodged my steps on the previous night were doing so again, though the reason for their action was no more apparent. However, I had laid my plans most carefully, and hoped, if all went well, to be able to satisfy myself upon this point. I had plenty of enemies, I knew, as a man of my profession must of necessity have, but I could not think of one who would pry upon my movements like this. At last the time came for action. Turning into a side street, I slackened my pace in order to give my pursuers time to come up. Apart from ourselves the street was quite deserted, and, if they intended doing me harm, was quite dark enough to favour their plans. I could see as well as hear them approaching. Then, when they were close upon me, I slipped my hand into my coat-pocket, and turned and confronted them. My own man was softly coming up from behind.

"Now, my men," I began, "what's the meaning of this? No, you can keep your distance. It's no use thinking of violence, for I've got you before and behind. Take care that they don't get away, Wilson!"

"Aye, aye, sir," the man replied. "I'll take good care of that."

"Let's 'out him,' Bill," said the taller of the two men, and as he did so took a step towards me.



"Do you see this?" I inquired, producing my revolver as I spoke. "I am aware that it is not lawful to carry firearms in the streets of London, but when one has to deal with gentlemen like you, it becomes a necessity. Throw up your hands."

They did as they were ordered without demur. Then turning to the taller man I addressed him more particularly.

"You seem to be the leader," I said, "and for that reason I want to have a little talk with you. Your companion can take himself off as soon as he pleases. If he does not, let me assure him that he will get into trouble. Your intention to 'out me,' as you call it, has failed, as you can see, and when I have done with you I don't think the attempt will be repeated. Now get off, my man, and thank your stars that I have let you go so easily."

Never were the tables turned so quickly or so completely on a pair of rogues, and the man I addressed seemed to think too. After a whispered conversation with his companion, he walked away at his best pace, and we saw no more of him.

"Now," I said, turning to the fellow who was left behind, "you will come along with me to my office, and we'll have a little talk together."

Our prisoner would have resisted, but certain warnings I was able to give him, induced him to change his mind. When we reached my office I opened the door and conducted him to my sanctum, while Wilson followed close behind and lit the gas. He then passed into the outer office, leaving me alone with my prisoner. On closer inspection he proved to be a burly ruffian, and would doubtless have proved an ugly customer to tackle alone. He, in his turn, looked at me in some interest and then at the door, as if he were half inclined to try the effect of a struggle.

"First and foremost, do you know where you are and who I am?" I asked him.

"No," he said, "I can't say as ever I set my eyes on yer afore last night, and I don't know yer bloomin' name or what yer are and I don't want to."

"Politeness is evidently not your strong point," I commented. "Just look at that!"

Taking a sheet of note-paper from the rack upon my table I handed it to him.

He did so, and I saw a look of surprise steal over his face. He looked from it to me and then back again at the paper.

"Fairfax," he said. "The d—— Tec, the same as got poor old Billy Whitelaw scragged last year."

"I certainly believe I had that honour," I returned, "and it's just possible, if you continue in your present career, that I may have the pleasure of doing the same for you. Now, look here, my man, there's some one else at the back of this business, and what I want to know is, who put you up to try your hand upon me? Tell me that, and I will let you go and say no more about it. Refuse, and I must try and find some evidence against you that will rid society of you for some time to come. Doubtless it will not be very difficult."

He considered a moment before he replied.

"Well," he said, "I don't know as how I won't tell you, a seein' you're who yer are, and I am not likely to get anything out of the job. It was a rare toff who put us on to it. Silk hat, frock-coat, and all as natty as a new pin. He comes across us down in the Dials, stood us a couple of drinks, turfed out a suvring apiece, and then told us he wanted the gentleman at Rickford's Hotel laid by for a time. He told us 'ow yer were in the habit of going about the streets at night for walks, and said as 'ow he would be down near the hotel that evenin' and when yer came out, he would strike a match and light a smoke just ter give us the tip like. We wos to foller yer, and to do the job wherever we could. Then we was to bring your timepiece to him at the back of St. Martin's Church in the Strand at midnight, and he would pay us our money and let us keep the clock for our trouble. Oh, yes, 'e's a deep un, jost take my tip for it. He knowed that unless we 'outed' yer properly, we'd not be able to get at your fob, and then 'e'd not have paid out."

"I see, and not being successful on your first attempt, you followed me again to-night, of course by his instructions as before?"

"That's so, guvner," the man replied, "but I reckon we ain't agoin' to see any money this trip. If I'd ha' knowed who you was, I wouldn't a taken this job in hand, not for no money."

"That is where so many of you go wrong," I said. "You fail to make sufficient inquiries before you commence business. And I understand you to say that the gentleman who put you up to it, is to be at the back of St. Martin's church to-night?"

"Yes, sir, that's so," said the fellow. "He'll be there all right."

"In that case I think I'll be there to meet him," I continued. "It's a pity he should not see some one, and I suppose you will not keep your appointment?"

"Not if I knows it," the man answered. Then he added regretfully, "A regular toff—he was—free with his rhino as could be, and dressed up to the nines. He chucked his 'arf soverings about as if they were dirt, he did."

"It is sad to think that through your folly, no more of them will find themselves into your pocket," I said. "You should have done the trick last night, and you would now be in the full enjoyment of your wealth. As it is you have had all your trouble for nothing. Now, that's all I want to say to you, so you can go and join your amiable companions as soon as you like. Just one word of advice, however, before you depart. Don't go near St. Martin's church to-night, and, when you want to kick another unoffending citizen to death, be sure of your man before you commence operations."

As I said this I rang the bell and told Wilson to show him out, which he did.

"Now," I said to myself after he had gone, "this looks like developing into an affair after my own heart. I am most anxious to discover who my mysterious enemy can be. It might be Grobellar, but I fancy he is still in Berlin. There's Tremasty, but I don't think he would dare venture to England. No, when I come to think of it, this business does not seem to belong to either of them."

I took from my pocket the watch which was to have played such an important part in the drama and consulted it. It was just half-past eleven, therefore I had exactly half-an-hour to get to the rendezvous. I called Wilson and congratulated him on the success which had attended our efforts of that evening.

"It's a good thing you came out of it so well, sir," he said. "They were a nasty pair of chaps, and would have thought as much of 'outing' you as they would of drinking a pot of ale."

"But thank goodness, they didn't succeed," I replied. "As the saying goes, 'a miss has never killed a man yet.' And now, Wilson, you'd better be off home to bed. Turn out the gas before you go. Good-night!"

"Good-night, sir," he answered, and then I put on my hat and left the office.

I found when I stepped into the street that the character of the night had changed. Thick clouds obscured the sky, and a few drops of rain were falling. At first I felt inclined to take a cab, but on second thoughts I changed my mind, and putting up my umbrella strode along in the direction of St. Martin's church.

The theatres were over by this time, and the streets were beginning to grow empty. I passed the Gaiety where a middle-aged gentleman, decidedly intoxicated, was engaged in a noisy altercation with a policeman, who was threatening to take him to Bow Street if he did not go quietly home, and at last approached the spot for which I was making. I took up my position on the darker side of Holywell Street, and waited. So far I seemed to have the thoroughfare to myself, but I had still some three or four minutes to wait.

At last midnight sounded, and as I heard it I concealed myself more carefully in my doorway and watched. I was not to be kept long in suspense, for the new day was scarcely three minutes old, when a hansom drove up to the other side of the church, and a man alighted. He paid off the man and wished him good-night, and then came along the roadway at the back of the church. From where I stood I could see his figure distinctly, but was not able to distinguish his face. He was dressed in a black cloak, and wore a deer-stalker hat upon his head. That he was the man I wanted I felt sure, for what would any one else be doing there at such an hour? That he was surprised at not finding his bravoes awaiting him was very certain, for he looked up the street, down the street, peered into Holywell Street, where, thank goodness, he did not see me, then along the Strand in a westerly direction, and afterwards came and took up his position within half-a-dozen paces of where I was hidden. Presently he took a cigar-case from his pocket, opened it, selected a weed, and struck a match to light it. The flame illumined his face so that I could see it distinctly. If I had not had myself well under control, I believe I should have uttered an exclamation of surprise that could not have failed to attract attention. The man who had set those rascals on to try and get rid of me, was none other than Mr. Edward Bayley, the Managing Director of the Santa Cruz Mining Company of the Argentine Republic!

Here was a surprise indeed! What on earth did it all mean?



CHAPTER V

I must confess that the discovery I had made behind St. Martin's church, and which I described at the end of the previous chapter, had proved too much for me. What possible reason could Mr. Bayley have for wanting to rid himself of me? Only the morning before he had been anxious to secure my services in the interests of his Company, and now here he was hiring a couple of ruffians to prevent me from doing my work, if not to take my life. When I reached my hotel again, and went to bed, I lay awake half the night endeavouring to arrive at an understanding of it; but, try how I would, I could not hit upon a satisfactory solution. Upon one thing, however, I had quite made up my mind. As soon as the City offices were open, I would call at that of the Santa Cruz Mining Company, and put a few questions to Mr. Bayley which I fancied that individual would find difficult and rather unpleasant to answer. This plan I carried out, and at ten o'clock I stood in the handsome outer office of the Company.

"I should be glad to see the managing director, if he could spare me a few moments," I said to the youth who waited upon me in answer to his question.

"He's engaged, sir, at present," the lad replied. "If you will take a seat, however, I don't fancy he will be very long."

I did as he directed, and in the interval amused myself by studying a large map of the Argentine Republic, which hung upon the wall. I had practically exhausted its capabilities when the door opened, and a tall, military-looking man emerged and passed out into the street.

"What name shall I say, sir?" inquired the clerk, as he descended from his high stool and approached me.

"Fairfax," I replied, giving him my card. "I think the manager will know my name."

The clerk disappeared to return a few moments later with the request that I would follow him. Preparing myself for what I fully expected would be a scene, I entered the director's sanctum. It was a handsome room, and was evidently used as a Boardroom as well as an office, for there was a long table in the middle, surrounded by at least a dozen chairs. At the furthest end a gentleman of venerable appearance was seated. He rose as I entered, and bowed to me.

"In what way can I be of service to you, Mr. Fairfax?" he inquired, after I had seated myself.

"I am afraid there has been a mistake," I answered, looking about me for Mr. Bayley. "I told the clerk that I desired to see the managing director."

"You are seeing him," he returned with a smile, "for I am he."

"In that case I must have misunderstood the gentleman who called upon me two days ago," I replied, with some surprise.

"Do I understand you to say that a gentleman from this office called upon you?"

"Yes, a Mr. Bayley, a tall, good-looking man, of between thirty-eight and forty years of age."

The old gentleman stared, as well he might.

"But there is no Mr. Bayley here," he said. "We have no one of that name in our employ. I fear the man, whoever he was, must have been playing a trick upon you. I sincerely trust he has done no damage. Might I ask what he called upon you about?"

"He called on me on behalf of your Company," I answered. "He informed me that for some time past you have ascertained the gravest suspicions concerning the manager of your mines in the Argentine. He said that information had reached your ears to the effect that the man in question was in league with a notorious swindler in New York, and, though you could not bring any proved charge against him, you were equally certain that he was robbing you in order to fill his own pockets. He appeared to be most anxious to persuade me to go to the Republic at once in order that I might inquire into matters and report to you. I was to be away three months, and was to be paid five thousand pounds and my expenses for my trouble."

"My good sir, this is really preposterous," the old gentleman returned. "I can positively assure you that there is not a word of truth in his assertion. Our manager in the Argentine is an old and valued friend, and I would stake my life on his fidelity. Nothing would induce us to think even of sending a detective out to spy upon him."

"I am beginning to believe that I should like to meet Mr. Bayley again," I remarked. "He has a fine imagination, and, from what you tell me, it seems that I should have looked a fool had I gone out to South America on such an errand."

"It would have been exceedingly inconvenient not only for you, but also for us," said the manager. "I shall report this matter at the Board meeting to-day. We must endeavour to discover who this man is, and also his reasons for acting as he has done. Should we hear anything further upon the subject, we will at once communicate with you."

"I should be glad if you will do so," I replied. "I should like to get this matter cleared up as soon as possible. There may be something behind it that we do not understand."

I thanked him for the interview, and then took my departure, more puzzled by it than I had been by anything for a long time. When I reached my office I took the card from a drawer, which Mr. Edward Bayley had sent to me, and despatched it by special messenger to the office of the famous mining company. That afternoon another surprise was in store for me. Shortly after lunch, and when I was in the middle of a letter to Kitwater, a message was received through the telephone to the effect that the managing director of the Santa Cruz Mining Company, whom I had seen that morning, was on his way to call upon me.

"Something has evidently come to light," I reflected. "Perhaps the mystery surrounding Mr. Edward Bayley is about to be cleared up, for I must confess I do not like the look of it."

A quarter of an hour later the manager was ushered into my presence.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fairfax," he said. "I have come to ask you, if you will permit me, a few questions, and also to tell you that I think we have discovered who it is that is masquerading as the occupant of my position. You gave me this morning a rough description of the individual who called upon you, can you recall anything particular about his appearance. Any strange mark, for instance. Anything by which we should be able to swear to his identity?"

"I would swear to his identity anywhere, without a mark" I replied. "But since you do mention it, I remember that he had a small triangular scar upon his left cheek."

"Then it is the same man after all," said the manager. "That is certainly extraordinary. When our secretary spoke to me about him after you had left I had my doubts; now, however, they are quite removed. Why he should have called upon you in such a guise is a question I cannot for the life of me answer with any sort of satisfaction."

"Perhaps you will be a little more explicit," I said. "You have not told me yet how it is that you have been able to locate the gentleman in question. This morning you must remember you had no sort of remembrance of him."

"In that case you must forgive me," he replied. "As a matter of fact I was so much carried away by my excitement that I could think of nothing else. However, I have promised you the story, and you shall have it. Some years ago, eight or ten perhaps, we had a young man working for us in the Argentine as an overseer. He was in many respects a brilliant young fellow, and would doubtless have done well for himself in time, had he been able to go straight. Unfortunately, however, he did not do so. He went from bad to worse. At last he was caught in a flagrant piece of dishonesty, and was immediately discharged. When I tell you that that young man had a mark such as you described upon his cheek, you may be able to derive some idea of what follows."

"Might it not be a pure coincidence?" I replied.

"Not in this case, I fancy," he answered. "What makes me the more inclined to believe that it is the same individual, is the fact that our secretary met him in Leadenhall Street only a few days ago. He looked older, but had evidently prospered in the world. As a matter of fact, Warner described him as being irreproachably dressed, and turned out. I trust his good fortune was honestly come by; but I must own, from what I know of him, that I have my doubts."

"But what possible reason could this individual have for calling upon me, and why should he have made me such an offer as I have described to you?"

The director shook his head. The question was evidently beyond him.

"I can assign no sort of reason for it," he said, "unless he has some hope of being able to get you out of England for a time."

"I don't see how that could benefit him," I replied. "I am connected with no case in which he has any sort of interest."

"You never can tell," the old gentleman replied. "From what I know of him, Gideon Hayle was always——"

"Gideon what?" I cried, springing to my feet. "Did I understand you to say Gideon Hayle?"

"That's the name of the young man of whom I have been speaking to you," he replied. "But what makes you so excited."

"Because I can understand everything now?" I declared. "Good heavens! what an idiot I have been not to have seen the connection before! Now I know why Gideon Hayle tried to lure me out of England with his magnificent offer. Now I see why he set these roughs upon me. It's all as plain as daylight!"

"I am afraid I do not quite understand," said my companion in his turn. "But it is quite evident to me that you know more of Hayle's past life than I do!"

"I should think I did," I replied. "By Jove, what a blackguard the man must be! He robbed his two partners of enormous wealth in China, left them in the hands of the Chinese to be tortured and maimed for life, and now that he knows that I am acting for them in order to recover their treasure, he endeavours to put me out of the way. But you've not done it yet, Mr. Hayle," I continued, bringing my fist down with a bang upon the table, "and what's more, clever as you may be, you are not likely to accomplish such an end. You'll discover that I can take very good care of myself, but before very long you'll find that you are being taken care of by somebody else."

"This is a strange affair indeed, Mr. Fairfax," said the manager, "and it is evident that I have been of some assistance to you. I need not say that I am very glad, the more so because it is evident that our Company is not involved in any system of fraud. I will not disguise from you that I had my fears that it was the beginning of trouble for us all."

"You may disabuse your mind of that once and for all," I answered. "If there is any trouble brewing it is for our friend, Mr. Hayle. That gentleman's reckoning is indeed likely to be a heavy one. I would not stand in his shoes for something."

There was a brief and somewhat uncomfortable pause.

"And now allow me to wish you a very good-afternoon," the old gentleman observed.

"Good-afternoon," I replied, "and many thanks for the service you have rendered me. It has helped me more than I can say."

"Pray don't mention it, my dear sir, don't mention it," replied the kindly old gentleman, as he moved towards the door. "I am very glad to have been useful to you."

When he had gone I sat down at my desk to think. I had had a good many surprises in my life, but I don't know that I had ever been more astonished than I was that afternoon. If only I had been aware of Hayle's identity when he had called upon me two mornings before, how simply everything might have been arranged! As a matter of fact I had been talking with the very man I had been paid to find, and, what was worse, had even terminated the interview myself. When I realized everything, I could have kicked myself for my stupidity. Why should I have suspected him, however? The very boldness of his scheme carried conviction with it! Certainly, Mr. Gideon Hayle was a foeman worthy of my steel, and I began to realize that, with such a man to deal with, the enterprise I had taken in hand was likely to prove a bigger affair than I had bargained for.

"Having failed in both his attempts to get me out of the way, his next move will be to leave England with as little delay as possible," I said to myself. "If only I knew in what part of London he was staying, I'd ransack it for him, if I had to visit every house in order to do so. As it is, he has a thousand different ways of escape, and unless luck favours me, I shall be unable to prevent him from taking his departure."

At that moment there was a tap at the door and my clerk entered the room.

"Mr. Kitwater and Mr. Codd to see you, sir."

"Show them in," I said, and a moment later the blind man and his companion were ushered into my presence.

Codd must have divined from the expression upon my face that I was not pleased to see them.

"You must forgive me for troubling you again so soon," said Kitwater, as he dropped into the chair I had placed for him, "but you can understand that we are really anxious about the affair. Your letter tells us that you discovered that Hayle was in London a short time since, and that he had realized upon some of the stones. Is it not possible for you to discover some trace of his whereabouts?"

"I have not been able to do that yet," I answered. "It will be of interest to you, however, to know that he called upon me here in this room, and occupied the chair you are now sitting in, three days ago."

Kitwater clutched the arm of the chair in question and his face went as white as his beard.

"In this room three days ago, and sitting in your presence," he cried. "Then you know where he is, and can take us to him?"

"I regret that such a thing is out of my power," I answered. "The man came into and left this room without being hindered by me."

Kitwater sprang to his feet with an oath that struck me as coming rather oddly from the lips of a missionary.

"I see it all. You are in league with him," he cried, his face suffused with passion. "You are siding with him against us. By God you are, and I'll have you punished for it. You hoodwinked us, you sold us. You've taken our money, and now you've gone over and are acting for the enemy."

I opened the drawer of my table and took out the envelope he had given me when he had called. For a reason of my own, I had not banked the note it contained.

"Excuse me, Mr. Kitwater," I said, speaking as calmly as I could, "but there seems to be a little misunderstanding. I have not sold you, and I have not gone over to the enemy. There is the money you gave me, and I will not charge you anything for the little trouble I have been put to. That should convince you of my integrity. Now perhaps you will leave my office, and let me wash my hands of the whole affair."

I noticed that little Codd placed his hand upon the other's arm. It travelled down until their hands met. I saw that the blind man was making an effort to recover his composure, and I felt sure that he regretted ever having lost it. A moment later Codd came across the room to my table, and, taking up a piece of paper, wrote upon it the following words—

"Kitwater is sorry, I am sure. Try to forgive him. Remember what he has suffered through Hayle."

The simplicity of the message touched me.

"Pray sit down a minute, Mr. Kitwater," I said, "and let me put myself right with you. It is only natural that you should get angry, if you think I have treated you as you said just now. However, that does not happen to be the case. I can assure you that had I known who Hayle was, I should have taken very good care that he did not leave this office until you had had an interview with him. Unfortunately, however, I was not aware of his identity. I have encountered some bold criminals in my time. But I do not know that I have ever had a more daring one than the man who treated you so badly."

I thereupon proceeded to give him a rough outline of Hayle's interview with myself, and his subsequent treatment of me. Both men listened with rapt attention.

"That is Hayle all over," said Kitwater when I had finished. "It is not his fault that you are not a dead man now. He will evade us if he possibly can. The story of the roughs you have just told us shows that he is aware that you are on the trail, and, if I know him at all, he will try the old dodge, and put running water between you and himself as soon as possible. As I said to you the other day, he knows the world as well as you know London, and, in spite of what people say, there are still plenty of places left in it where he can hide and we shall never find him. With the money he stole from us he can make himself as comfortable as he pleases wherever he may happen to be. To sum it all up, if he gets a week's start of us, we shall never set eyes on him again."

"If that is so we must endeavour to make sure that he does not get that start," I replied. "I will have the principal ports watched, and in the meantime will endeavour to find out where he has stowed himself away in London. You may rest assured of one thing, gentlemen, I took this matter up in the first place as an ordinary business speculation. I am now going on for that reason and another. Mr. Hayle tried a trick on me that I have never had attempted before, and for the future he is my enemy as well as yours. I hope I have set myself right with you now. You do not still believe that I am acting in collusion with him?"

"I do not," Kitwater answered vehemently. "And I most humbly apologize for having said what I did. It would have served me right if you had thrown the case up there and then, and I regard it as a proof of your good feeling towards us that you consent to continue your work upon it. To-day is Friday, is it not? Then perhaps by Sunday you may have something more definite to tell us."

"It is just possible, I may," I returned.

"In that case I am instructed by my niece to ask if you will give us the pleasure of your company at Bishopstowe on that day. After the toils of London, a day in the country will do you no harm, and needless to say we shall be most pleased to see you."

I remembered the girl's pretty face and the trim neat figure. I am not a lady's man, far from it, nevertheless I thought that I should like to renew my acquaintance with her.

"I shall be very pleased to accept Miss Kitwater's invitation, provided I have something of importance to communicate," I said. "Should I not be able to come, you will of course understand that my presence is required in London or elsewhere. My movements must of necessity be regulated by those of Mr. Hayle, and while I am attending to him I am not my own master."

Kitwater asked me one or two more questions about the disposal of the gems to the merchants in Hatton Garden, groaned as I describe the enthusiasm of the dealers, swore under his breath when he heard of Hayle's cunning in refusing to allow either his name or address to be known, and then rose and bade me good-bye.

During dinner that evening I had plenty to think about. The various events of the day had been so absorbing, and had followed so thick and fast upon each other, that I had little time to seriously digest them. As I ate my meal, and drank my modest pint of claret, I gave them my fullest consideration. As Kitwater had observed, there was no time to waste if we desired to lay our hands upon that slippery Mr. Hayle. Given the full machinery of the law, and its boundless resources to stop him, it is by no means an easy thing for a criminal to fly the country unobserved; but with me the case was different. I had only my own and the exertions of a few and trusted servants to rely upon, and it was therefore impossible for us to watch all the various backdoors leading out of England at once. When I had finished my dinner I strolled down the Strand as far as Charing Cross Station. Turner was to leave for St. Petersburg that night by the mail-train, and I had some instructions to give him before his departure. I found him in the act of attending to the labelling of his luggage, and, when he had seen it safely on the van, we strolled down the platform together. I warned him of the delicate nature of the operation he was about to undertake, and bade him use the greatest possible care that the man he was to watch did not become aware of his intentions. Directly he knew for certain that this man was about to leave Russia, he was to communicate with me by cypher, and with my representative in Berlin, and then follow him with all speed to that city himself. As I had good reason to know, he was a shrewd and intelligent fellow, and one who never forgot any instructions that might be given him. Knowing that he was a great votary of the Goddess Nicotine, I gave him a few cigars to smoke on the way to Dover.

"Write to me immediately you have seen your man," I said. "Remember me to Herr Schneider, and if you should see——"

I came to a sudden stop, for there, among the crowd, not three carriage-lengths away from me, a travelling-rug thrown over his shoulder, and carrying a small brown leather bag in his hand, stood Gideon Hayle. Unfortunately, he had already seen me, and almost before I realized what he was doing, he was making his way through the crowd in the direction of the main entrance. Without another word to Turner, I set off in pursuit, knowing that he was going to make his bolt, and that if I missed him now it would probably be my last chance of coming to grip with him. Never before had the platform seemed so crowded. An exasperating lady, with a lanky youth at her side, hindered my passage, porters with trucks piled with luggage barred the way just when I was getting along nicely; while, as I was about to make my way out into the courtyard, and idiotic Frenchman seized me by the arm and implored me to show him "ze office of ze money-changaire." I replied angrily that I did not know, and ran out into the portico, only to be in time to see Gideon Hayle take a seat in a hansom. He had evidently given his driver his instructions, for the man whipped up his horse, and went out of the yard at a speed which, at any other hour, would certainly have got him into trouble with the police. I called up another cab and jumped into it, promising the man a sovereign as I did so, if he would keep the other cab in sight, and find out for me its destination.

"Right ye are, sir," the cabman replied. "You jest leave that to me. I won't let him go out of my sight."

Then we, in our turn, left the yard of the station, and set off eastwards along the Strand in pursuit. Both cabmen were sharp fellows and evidently familiar with every twist and turn of their famous London. In my time I have had a good many curious drives in one part of the world and another, but I think that chase will always rank first. We travelled along the Strand, about a hundred yards behind the other vehicle, then turned up Southampton Street, through Covent Garden by way of Henrietta Street into Long Acre. After that I cannot pretend to have any idea of the direction we took. I know that we passed through Drury Lane, crossed High Holborn, to presently find ourselves somewhere at the back of Gray's Inn. The buildings of the Parcels' Post Depot marked another stage in our journey. But still the other cab did not show any sign of coming to a standstill. Leaving Mount Pleasant behind us, we entered that dingy labyrinth of streets lying on the other side of the Clerkenwell House of Detention. How much longer was the chase going to last? Then, to my delight, the other cab slackened its pace, and eventually pulled up before a small public-house. We were so close behind it that we narrowly escaped a collision. I sprang out, and ran to the other vehicle in order to stop Hayle before he could alight.

"Wot's up, guvner?" asked the cabman. "Don't go a worritting of yourself. There's nobody inside."

He was quite right, the cab was empty!



CHAPTER VI

I flatter myself that I am a man who is not easily disconcerted, but for the second time that day I was completely taken aback. I had watched that cab so closely, had followed its progress so carefully, that it seemed impossible Hayle could have escaped from it. Yet there was the fact, apparent to all the world, that he had got away. I looked from the cab to the cabman and then at my own driver, who had descended from his perch and was standing beside me.

"Well, I wouldn't have believed it," I said aloud, when I had recovered somewhat my astonishment.

My own driver, who had doubtless begun to think that the sovereign I had promised him was in danger, was inclined to be somewhat bellicose. It appeared as if he were anxious to make a personal matter of it, and in proof of this he sternly demanded of his rival what he had done with his fare.

"You don't think I've ate him, do yer?" asked that worthy. "What's it got to do with me what a fare does? I set 'im down, same as I should do you, and now I am on my way 'ome. Look arter your own fare, and take him 'ome and put him ter bed, but don't yer a'come abotherin' me. I've done the best day's work I've ever 'ad in my life, and if so be the pair of yer like to come into the pub here, well, I don't know as I won't a stand yer both a two of Scotch cold. It looks as if 'twould kind a' cheer the guvner up a bit, seem' as how he's dis'pointed like. Come on now!"

It is one of my best principles, and to it I feel that I owe a considerable portion of my success, that I never allow my pride to stand in the way of my business. The most valuable information is not unfrequently picked up in the most unlikely places, and for this reason I followed my own Jehu and his rival into the public-house in question. The man was visibly elated by the good stroke of business he had done that night, and was inclined to be convivial.

"'e was a proper sort of bloke," he said as we partook of our refreshment. "'e give me a fiver, 'e did, an' I wishes as 'ow I could meet another like 'im every day."

"They do say as how one man's mutton is another man's poison," retorted my driver, who, in spite of the entertainment he was receiving, visibly regarded the other with disfavour. "If you'd a give us the tip, I'd 'ave 'ad my suvering. As it is I don't take it friendly like that you should a' bilked us."

"Yer can take it as yer darned well please," said the other, as he spoke placing his glass upside down on the counter, in order to prove beyond contradiction that it was empty. I immediately ordered a repetition, which was supplied. Thereupon the cabman continued—

"When I 'as a bit of business ter do yer must understand that I does it, and that no man can say as I doesn't. A gent gets into my keb and sez he, 'Drive me until I tell yer to stop, and go as fast as yer can,' sez he. 'Take every back street yer know of, and come out somewhere Hoxton way. I'm not partic'lar so long as I go fast, an' I don't git collared by the keb that's after us. If yer help me to give 'im the slip there's a five-poun' note for yer trouble.' Well, sez I to myself, this is a proper bit of busness and there and then I sets off as fast as the old 'orse cud take us. We turns up Southampton Street, and you turns up after us. As we was agoin' down 'enrietta Street I asked him to let me 'ave a look at his five-poun' note, for I didn't want no Bank of Fashion or any of that sort of truck shoved into me, you'll understand. 'You needn't be suspicious, Cabby,' sez he, 'I'll make it suverings, if you like, and half a one over for luck, if that will satisfy yer? 'When I told him it would, he give me two poun' ten in advance and away we went again. We weren't more than 'arf a mile away from here—thank ye, sir, I don't mind if I do, it's cold drivin'—well, as I was a sayin' we wasn't more than 'arf a mile away from here, when the gent he stands up and sez to me, 'Look here, Kebby, turn the next corner pretty sharp, and slow down at the first bye-street you come to. Then I'll jump out,' 'Right yer are, guvner,' sez I, and with that he 'ands me up the other two poun' ten and the extry half-suvering. I fobbed it and whipped up the old 'oss. Next moment we was around the corner, and a-drivin' as if we was a trying to ketch a train. Then we comes to a little side street, an' I slows down. Out 'e jumps and down he goes along a side street as if the devil was arter him. Then I drives on my way and pulls up 'ere. Bilked you were, guvner, and I don't mind sayin' so, but busness is busness, and five poun' ten ain't to be picked up every day. I guess the old woman will be all there when I get 'ome to-night."

"That's all very well, cabby," I said, "but it's just likely you want to add another sovereign to that five-pound ten. If you do I don't mind putting another in your way. I tell you that I want to catch the man I was after to-night. He's as big a thief as ever walked the earth, and if you will help me to put my hand upon him, you'll be doing a service, not only to me, but to the whole country at large."

"What is it you want me to do?" he asked suspiciously. "He treated me fair, and he'll take it mean of me if I help you to nab him."

"I don't want you to do anything but to drive me to the side street where you put him down. Then you can take your sovereign and be off home as quick as you like. Do you agree?"

He hesitated for a space in which a man could have counted twenty, and then set his glass upon the counter.

"I'll do it," he said. "I'll drive yer there, not for the suvering, but for the good of the country yer speaks about. Come on."

I gave my own man his money, and then followed the other out to his cab. He mounted to his box, not without some help, and we presently set off. Whether it was the effect of the refreshment he had imbibed, or whether it was mere elation of spirits I cannot say, the fact, however, remains that for the whole of the journey, which occupied ten or twelve minutes he howled vociferously. A more joyous cabman could scarcely have been discovered in all that part of London. At last he pulled his horse to a standstill, and descended from his seat.

"This 'ere's the place," he said, "and that's the street he bolted down. Yer can't mistake it. Now let's have a look at yer suvering, guvner, and then I'll be off home to bed, and it's about time too."

I paid him the sum I had promised him, and then made my way down the narrow street, in the direction Hayle had taken. It was not more than a couple of hundred yards long, and was hemmed in on either hand by squalid cottages. As if to emphasize the misery of the locality, and perhaps in a measure to account for it, at the further end I discovered a gin-palace, whose flaring lights illuminated the streets on either hand with brazen splendour. A small knot of loafers were clustered on the pavement outside the public, and these were exactly the men I wanted. Addressing myself to them I inquired how long they had been in their present position.

"Best part of an hour, guv'ner," said one of them, pushing his hands deep down into his pockets, and executing a sort of double shuffle as he spoke. "Ain't doin' any harm 'ere, I 'ope. We was 'opin' as 'ow a gent like yourself would come along in the course of the evening just to ask us if we was thirsty, and wot we'd take for to squench it."

"You shall have something to squench it, if you can answer the questions I am going to ask you," I replied. "Did either of you see a gentleman come down this street, running, about half-an-hour or so ago."

"Was he carrying a rug and a bag?" asked one of the men without hesitation.

"He was," I replied. "He is the man I want. Which way did he go when he left here?"

"He took Jim Boulter's cab," said another man, who had until a few moments before been leaning against the wall. "The Short 'Un was alookin' after it for 'im, and I heard him call Jimmy myself. He tossed the Short 'Un a bob, he did, when he got in. Such luck don't seem ever to come my way."

"Where is the Short 'Un, as you call him?" I inquired, thinking that it might be to my advantage to interview that gentleman.

"A-drinkin' of his bob in there," the man answered. "Where d'ye think ye'd be a-seein' 'im? Bearin' 'isself proud like a real torf, and at closen' time they'll be chuckin' 'im out into the gutter, and then 'is wife 'll come down, and they 'll fight, an' most like both of 'em 'll get jugged before they knows where they is, and come before the beak in the mornin'."

"Look here," I said, "if one of you will go in and induce the gentleman of whom you speak to come out here and talk to me, I would not mind treating the four of you to half-a-crown."

The words had scarcely left my lips before a deputation had entered the house in search of the gentleman in question. When they returned with him one glance was sufficient to show me that the Short 'Un was in a decidedly inebriated condition. His friends, however, deeming it possible that their chance of appreciating my liberality depended upon his condition being such as he could answer questions with some sort of intelligence, proceeded to shake and pummel him into something approaching sobriety. In one of his lucid intervals I inquired whether he felt equal to telling me in what direction the gentleman who had given him the shilling had ordered the cabman to drive him. He turned the question over and over in his mind, and then arrived at the conclusion that it was "some hotel close to Waterloo."

This was certainly vague, but it encouraged me to persevere.

"Think again," I said; "he must have given you some definite address."

"Now I do remember," said the man, "it seems to me it was Foxwell's Hotel, Waterloo Road. That's where it was, Foxwell's Hotel. Don't you know it?

"Foxwell's Hotel is a merry, merry place, When the jolly booze is flowin', flowin' free."

Now chorus, gen'men."

Having heard all I wanted to, I gave the poor wretches what I had promised them, and went in search of a cab. As good luck would have it I was able to discover one in the City Road, and in it I drove off in the direction of Waterloo. If Hayle were really going to stay the night at Foxwell's Hotel, then my labours had not been in vain, after all. But I had seen too much of that gentleman's character of late to put any trust in his statements, until I had verified them to my own satisfaction. I was not acquainted with Foxwell's Hotel, but after some little search I discovered it. It was by no means the sort of place a man of Hayle's wealth would be likely to patronize, but remembering that he had particular reasons for not being en evidence just at present, I could understand his reasons for choosing such a hostelry. I accordingly paid off my cabman and entered the bar. Taking the young lady I found there a little on one side, I inquired whether a gentleman had arrived within the last half-hour, carrying a bag and a heavy travelling-rug.

Much to my gratification she replied that such a gentleman had certainly arrived within the past half-hour, and was now at supper in the coffee-room. She inquired whether I would care to see him? I replied in the negative, stating that I would call next day and make myself known to him.

"We are old friends," I said, "and for that reason I should be glad if you would promise me that you will say nothing to him about my coming to-night."

Woman-like the idea pleased her, and she willingly gave the promise I asked.

"If you want to see him you'd better be here early," she said. "He told me when he booked his room, that he should be wanting to get away at about ten o'clock to-morrow morning."

"I'll be here well before that," I replied. "If all goes right, I shall call upon him between eight and nine o'clock."

Feeling sure that, after what I had said to her, she would say nothing to Hayle about my visit, I returned to my own hotel and retired to rest.

Next morning I was up betimes, had breakfasted, and was at Foxwell's Hotel before eight o'clock had struck. I proceeded straight to the bar, where I discovered my acquaintance of the previous evening, in curl papers, assiduously dusting shelves and counter. There was a fragrance of the last night's potations still hovering about the place, which had the dreary, tawdry appearance that was so different to the glamour of the previous night. I bade the girl good-morning, and then inquired whether she had seen anything of my friend. At first she did not appear to recognize me, but on doing so she volunteered to go off and make inquiries. She did so, to return a few moments later with the information that the gentleman "had rung for his boots, and would be down to breakfast in a few minutes."

"I wonder what you will have to say for yourself when you see me, Mr. Hayle," I muttered. "You will find that I am not to be so easily shaken off as you imagine."

I accordingly made my way to the dining-room, and seating myself at a table, ordered a cup of coffee and an egg. The London egg is not a favourite of mine, but I was prepared to eat a dozen of them if necessary, if by so doing I could remain in the room long enough to find myself face to face with Gideon Hayle. Several people put in an appearance and commenced their morning repast, but when a quarter of an hour had elapsed and the man I wanted had not presented himself, my patience became exhausted and I went in search of my hourie of the bar.

"My friend's a long time coming down," I said, "I hope he has not gone out to breakfast?"

"You must be mistaken," she answered. "I saw him come down-stairs nearly a quarter of an hour ago. He went into the dining-room, and I felt sure you must have seen him. If you will follow me I'll show him to you."

So saying she led the way along the dingy passage until she arrived at a green baize door with two glass panels. Here she stopped and scanned the dining-room. The boots, who had just come upstairs from the lower regions, assisted in the operation, and seemed to derive considerable satisfaction from it.

"There he is," said the girl, pointing to a table in the furthest corner of the room; "the tall man with the black moustache."

I looked and was consumed with disappointment. The individual I saw there was no more like Hayle than he was like the man in the moon.

"Do you mean to tell me that he is the man who arrived late last night in a cab, and whose luggage consisted of a small brown bag and a travelling rug?" I asked. "You've been having a game with me, young woman, and I should advise you to be careful. You don't realize who I am."

"Hoighty toity," she said, with a toss of her head that sent her curl-papers dancing. "If you're going to be nasty, I am going. You asked for the gentleman who came late last night with a bag, and there he is. If he's not the person you want, you mustn't blame me. I'm sure I'm not responsible for everybody's friends. Dear me, I hope not!"

The shock-headed boots had all this time been listening with the greatest interest. He and the barmaid, it appeared, had had a quarrel earlier in the morning, and in consequence were still far from being upon the best of terms.

"The cove as the gent wants, miss, must be 'im as came close upon eleven o'clock last night," he put in. "The toff with the bag and blanket. Why I carried his bag up to number forty-seven with my own 'ands, and you know it."

The girl was quite equal to the occasion.

"You'd better hold your tongue," she said. "If you don't you'll get into trouble."

"What for?" he inquired. "It's a free country, I 'ope. Nice sort of toff 'e was, forgot all about the boots, and me a-doin' 'is browns as slap-up as if 'e was a-goin' out to dinner with the Queen. But p'reaps he's left a 'arf-sovereign for me with you. It ain't likely. Oh no, of course it isn't likely he would. You wouldn't keep it carefully for me, would you? Oh no, in course not? What about that two bob the American gent give you?"

The girl did not wait to hear any more, but with a final toss of her head, disappeared into the bar.

"Now, look here, my friend," I said to the boots, "it is quite evident that you know more about this gentleman than that young lady does. Tell me all about him, and I'll make it worth your while."

"There ain't much to tell," he answered. "Leastways, nothin' particular. He was no end of a toff, great-coat with silk collar, neat browns, gloves, and a bowler 'at."

"Moustache?"

"Yes, and waxed. Got a sort of broad-arrow on his cheek, and looked at ye as if 'is eyes was gimlets, and he wanted to bore a hole through yer; called at seven, breakfast at half-past, 'am and eggs and two cups of corfee and a roll, all took up to 'im in 'is room. Ordered a cab to catch the nine o'clock express to Southampton. I puts 'im in with his bag and blanket, and says, 'Kindly remember the boots, sir,' and he says, 'I've done it,' I said I 'adn't 'ad it, and he told me to go to ———, well the place as isn't mentioned in perlite company. That's all I know about 'im."

He paused and shook his head in the direction of the bar, after which he observed that he knew all about it, and one or two other things beside.

I gave him a shilling for his information and then left the house. Once more I had missed Gideon Hayle by a few minutes, but I had received some information that might help me to find him again. Unfortunately, however, he was now well on his way to Southampton, and in a few hours might be out of England. My respect for that astute gentleman was increasing hourly, but it did not deter me, only made me the more resolved to beat him in the end. Making my way to Waterloo, I inquired when the next train left for Southampton. Finding that I had more than an hour and a half to wait, I telegraphed to the man I had sent to Southampton to watch the docks, and then took the electric railway to the city, and made my way to my office, where a pile of correspondence awaited me on my table. Calling my managing clerk to my assistance, I set to work to examine it. He opened the letters while I perused them and dictated the various replies. When he came to the fifth he uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"What is it?" I inquired. "Anything wrong?"

In reply he handed me a letter written on good note-paper, but without an address. It ran as follows—

"Mr. Gideon Hayle returns thanks for kind inquiries, and begs to inform Mr. Fairfax that he is leaving England to-day for Algiers."

"If he thinks he is going to bluff me with that sort of tale, he's very much mistaken," I said. "I happen to be aware of the fact that he left for Southampton by the nine o'clock train this morning. If I might hazard a guess as to where he was going, I should say that his destination is the Cape. But let him go where he will, I'll have him yet. In the meantime, send Williams to Charing Cross at once, Roberts to Victoria, and Dickson to St. Paul's. Furnish each with a description of the man they are to look after, be particular about the scar upon his left cheek, and if they see him, tell them that they are not to lose sight of him, happen what may. Let them telegraph should they discover anything definite, and then go in pursuit. In any case I shall return from Southampton to-night, and shall call here at once."

Half-an-hour later I arrived at Waterloo, took my ticket and boarded the train for Southampton. When I reached the port I was met at the station by my representative, who informed me that he had seen nothing of the man I had described, although he had carefully looked for him.

"We'll try the various shipping-offices first," I said. "I feel positively certain that he came down here by the nine o'clock train."

We drove from shipping-office to shipping-office, and made the most careful inquiries, but in every case without success. Once we thought we had discovered our man, only to find, after wasting a precious hour, that the clerk's description was altogether a wrong one, and that he resembled Hayle in no sort of way. We boarded the South African mail-boat, but he was not among her passengers; we overhauled the American liner, with an equally barren result. We paid cursory visits to the principal hotels, but could hear no tidings of him in any one of them. As a matter of fact, if the man had journeyed to Southampton, as I had every reason to suppose he had done, he must have disappeared into thin air when he got there. The whole affair was most bewildering, and I scarcely knew what to think of it. That the boots at the hotel had not been hoodwinking me I felt assured in my own mind. His anger against the man was too real to allow any doubt upon that point. At last, having exhausted all our resources, and not seeing what I could do further, I returned to my subordinate's lodgings, where it had been arranged that telegrams should be addressed to me. On my arrival there a yellow envelope was handed to me. I tore it open eagerly and withdrew the contents. It proved to be from Dickson, and had been sent off from Dover. I took my codebook from my pocket and translated the message upon the back of the telegraph-form. It ran as follows—

"Man with triangular scar upon left cheek, brown bag and travelling rug, boarded train at Herne Hill, went through to Dover, and has booked to Paris. Am following him according to instructions."

"Then he slipped me after all," I cried. "He must have gone on to Waterloo, crossed to Cannon Street, then on to London Bridge. The cunning scoundrel! He must have made up his mind that the biggest bluff he could play upon me was to tell the truth, and by Jove! he was not very far wrong. However, those laugh best who laugh last, and though he has had a very fair innings so far, we will see whether he can beat me in the end. I'll get back to Town now, run down to Bishopstowe to-morrow morning to report progress, and then be off to Paris after him on Monday."

At 8.45 that night I reached London. At the same moment Mr. Gideon Hayle was sitting down to a charming little dinner at the Cafe des Princes, and was smiling to himself as he thought of the success that had attended the trick he had played upon me.



CHAPTER VII

When I reached the charming little Surrey village of Bishopstowe, I could see that it bore out Kitwater's description of it. A prettier little place could scarcely have been discovered, with its tree-shaded high-road, its cluster of thatched cottages, its blacksmith's shop, rustic inn with the signboard on a high post before the door, and last but not least, the quaint little church standing some hundred yards back from the main road, and approached from the lych-gate by an avenue of limes.

"Here," I said to myself, "is a place where a man might live to be a hundred, undisturbed by the rush and bustle of the Great World."

That was my feeling then, but since I have come to know it better, and have been permitted an opportunity of seeing for myself something of the inner life of the hamlet, I have discovered that it is only the life of a great city, on a small scale. There is the same keen competition in trade, with the same jealousies and bickerings. However, on this peaceful Sunday morning it struck me as being delightful. There was an old-world quiet about it that was vastly soothing. The rooks cawed lazily in the elms before the church as if they knew it were Sunday morning and a day of rest. A dog lay extended in the middle of the road, basking in the sunshine, a thing which he would not have dared to do on a weekday. Even the little stream that runs under the old stone bridge, which marks the centre of the village, and then winds its tortuous course round the churchyard, through the Squire's park, and then down the valley on its way to the sea, seemed to flow somewhat more slowly than was its wont.

Feeling just in the humour for a little moralizing, I opened the lych-gate and entered the churchyard. The congregation were singing the last hymn, the Old Hundredth, if I remember rightly, and the sound of their united voices fitted perfectly into the whole scheme, giving it the one touch that was lacking. As I strolled along I glanced at the inscriptions on the various tomb-stones, and endeavoured to derive from them some notion of the lives and characters of those whose memories they perpetuated.

"Sacred to the memory of Erasmus Gunning, twenty-seven years Schoolmaster of this Parish. Born 24th of March, 1806, and rested from his labours on September the 19th, 1876." Seating myself on the low wall that surrounded the churchyard, I looked down upon the river, and while so doing, reflected upon Erasmus Gunning. What had he been like, this knight of the ferrule, who for twenty-seven years acted as pedagogue to this tiny hamlet? What good had he done in his world? Had he realized his life's ambition? Into many of the congregation now worshipping yonder he must have driven the three R's, possibly with the assistance of the faithful ferrule aforesaid, yet how many of them gave a thought to his memory! In this case the assertion that he "rested from his labours" was a trifle ambiguous. Consigning poor Erasmus to oblivion, I continued my walk. Presently my eyes caught an inscription that made me halt again. It was dedicated to the "Loving Memory of William Kitwater, and Susan, his wife." I was still looking at it, when I heard a step on the gravel-path behind me, and turning round, I found myself standing face to face with Miss Kitwater. To use the conventional phrase, church had "come out," and the congregation was even now making its way down the broad avenue towards the high-road.

"How do you do, Mr. Fairfax?" said Miss Kitwater, giving me her hand as she spoke. "It is kind indeed of you to come down. I hope you have good news for us?"



"I am inclined to consider it good news myself," I said. "I hope you will think so too."

She did not question me further about it then, but asking me to excuse her for a moment, stepped over the little plot of ground where her dear ones lay, and plucked some of the dead leaves from the flowers that grew upon it. To my thinking she was just what an honest English girl should be; straight-forward and gentle, looking the whole world in the face with frank and honourable simplicity. When she had finished her labour of love, which only occupied her a few moments, she suggested that we should stroll on to her house.

"My uncle will be wondering what has become of me," she said, "and he will also be most anxious to see you."

"He does not accompany you to church then?"

"No," she answered. "He is so conscious of his affliction that he cannot bear it to be remarked. He usually stays at home and walks up and down a path in the garden, brooding, I am afraid, over his treatment by Mr. Hayle. It goes to my heart to see him."

"And Mr. Codd?"

"He, poor little man, spends most of his time reading such works on Archaeology as he can obtain. It is his one great study, and I am thankful he has such a hobby to distract his mind from his own trouble."

"Their coming to England must have made a great change in your life," I remarked.

"It has made a difference," she answered. "But one should not lead one's life exactly to please one's self. They were in sore distress, and I am thankful that they came to me, and that I had the power to help them."

This set me thinking. She spoke gravely, and I knew that she meant what she said. But underlying it there was a suggestion that, for some reason or another, she had not been altogether favourably impressed by her visitors. Whether I was right in my suppositions I could not tell then, but I knew that I should in all probability be permitted a better opportunity of judging later on. We crossed the little bridge, and passed along the high road for upwards of a mile, until we found ourselves standing at the entrance to one of the prettiest little country residences it has even been my lot to find. A drive, some thirty yards or so in length, led up to the house and was shaded by overhanging trees. The house itself was of two stories and was covered by creepers. The garden was scrupulously neat, and I fancied that I could detect its mistress's hand in it. Shady walks led from it in various directions, and at the end of one of these I could discern a tall, restless figure, pacing up and down.

"There is my uncle," said the girl, referring to the figure I have just described. "That is his sole occupation. He likes it because it is the only part of the garden in which he can move about without a guide. How empty and hard his life must seem to him, now, Mr. Fairfax?"

"It must indeed," I replied. "To my thinking blindness is one of the worst ills that can happen to a man. It must be particularly hard to one who has led such a vigorous life as your uncle has done."

I could almost have declared that she shuddered at my words. Did she know more about her uncle and his past life than she liked to think about? I remembered one or two expressions he had let fall in his excitement when he had been talking to me, and how I had commented upon them as being strange words to come from the lips of a missionary. I had often wondered whether the story he had told me about their life in China, and Hayle's connection with it, had been a true one. The tenaciousness with which a Chinaman clings to the religion of his forefathers is proverbial, and I could not remember having ever heard that a Mandarin, or an official of high rank, had been converted to the Christian Faith. Even if he had, it struck me as being highly improbable that he would have been the possessor of such princely treasure, and even supposing that to be true, that he would, at his death, leave it to such a man as Kitwater. No, I fancied if we could only get at the truth of the story, we should find that it was a good deal more picturesque, not to use a harsher term, than we imagined. For a moment I had almost been tempted to believe that the stones were Hayle's property, and that these two men were conducting their crusade with the intention of robbing him of them. Yet, on maturer reflection, this did not fit in. There was the fact that they had certainly been mutilated as they described, and also their hatred of Hayle to be weighed in one balance, while Hayle's manifest fear of them could be set in the other.

"If I am not mistaken that is your step, Mr. Fairfax," said the blind man, stopping suddenly in his walk, and turning his sightless face in my direction. "It's wonderful how the loss of one's sight sharpens one's ears. I suppose you met Margaret on the road."

"I met Miss Kitwater in the churchyard," I replied.

"A very good meeting-place," he chuckled sardonically. "It's where most of us meet each other sooner or later. Upon my word, I think the dead are luckier than the living. In any case they are more fortunate than poor devils like Codd and myself. But I am keeping you standing, won't you sit down somewhere and tell me your news? I have been almost counting the minutes for your arrival. I know you would not be here to-day unless you had something important to communicate to me. You have found Hayle?"

He asked the question with feverish eagerness, as if he hoped within a few hours to be clutching at the other's throat. I could see that his niece noticed it too, and that she recoiled a little from him in consequence. I thereupon set to work and told them of all that had happened since I had last seen them, described my lucky meeting with Hayle at Charing Cross, my chase after him across London, the trick he had played me at Foxwell's Hotel, and my consequent fruitless journey to Southampton.

"And he managed to escape you after all," said Kitwater. "That man would outwit the Master of all Liars Himself. He is out of England by this time, and we shall lose him."

"He has not escaped me," I replied quietly. "I know where he is, and I have got a man on his track."

"Then where is he?" asked Kitwater. "If you know where he is, you ought to be with him yourself instead of down here. You are paid to conduct the case. How do you know that your man may not bungle it, and that we may not lose him again?"

His tone was so rude and his manner so aggressive, that his niece was about to protest. I made a sign to her, however, not to do so.

"I don't think you need be afraid, Mr. Kitwater," I said more soothingly than I felt. "My man is a very clever and reliable fellow, and you may be sure that, having once set eyes on Mr. Hayle, he will not lose sight of him again. I shall leave for Paris to-morrow morning, and shall immediately let you know the result of my search. Will that suit you?"

"It will suit me when I get hold of Hayle," he replied. "Until then I shall know no peace. Surely you must understand that?"

Then, imagining perhaps, that he had gone too far, he began to fawn upon me, and what was worse praised my methods of elucidating a mystery. I cannot say which I disliked the more. Indeed, had it not been that I had promised Miss Kitwater to take up the case, and that I did not want to disappoint her, I believe I should have abandoned it there and then, out of sheer disgust. A little later our hostess proposed that we should adjourn to the house, as it was neatly lunch-time. We did so, and I was shown to a pretty bedroom to wash my hands. It was a charming apartment, redolent of the country, smelling of lavender, and after London, as fresh as a glimpse of a new life. I looked about me, took in the cleanliness of everything, and contrasted it with my own dingy apartments at Rickford's Hotel, where the view from the window was not of meadows and breezy uplands, but of red roofs, chimney-pots, and constantly revolving cowls. I could picture the view from this window in the early morning, with the dew upon the grass, and the blackbirds whistling in the shrubbery. I am not a vain man, I think, but at this juncture I stood before the looking-glass and surveyed myself. For the first time in my life I could have wished that I had been better-looking. At last I turned angrily away.

"What a duffer I am to be sure!" I said to myself. "If I begin to get notions like this in my head there is no knowing where I may end. As if any girl would ever think twice about me!"

Thereupon I descended to the drawing-room, which I found empty. It was a true woman's room, daintily furnished, with little knick-knacks here and there, a work-basket put neatly away for the Sabbath, and an open piano with one of Chopin's works upon the music-rest. Leading out of the drawing-room was a small conservatory, filled with plants. It was a pretty little place and I could not refrain from exploring it. I am passionately fond of flowers, but my life at that time was not one that permitted me much leisure to indulge in my liking. As I stood now, however, in the charming place, among the rows of neatly-arranged pots, I experienced a sort of waking dream. I seemed to see myself standing in this very conservatory, hard at work upon my flowers, a pipe in my mouth and my favourite old felt hat upon my head. Crime and criminals were alike forgotten; I no longer lived in a dingy part of the Town, and what was better than all I had——