The Just Men of Cordova/Chapter 4

heard a little scuffling in the hall, and knew that the men who had been watching him had gone to cover. He had little fear, though he carried no weapon. He was supremely confident in his own strength and science.

Black, following him in, shut the door behind him. Frank heard the snick of a bolt being shot into its socket in the dark. Black switched on the light.

“We’re playing fair, Constable Fellowe.” he said, with an amiable smile. “You see, we do not try any monkey tricks with you. Everything is straight and above-board.”

He led the way up the thickly-carpeted stairs, and Frank followed. The young man noticed the house was luxuriously furnished. Rich engravings hung on the walls, the curtains that veiled the big stairway window were of silk, cabinets of Chinese porcelain filled the recesses.

Black led the way to a room on the first floor. It was not the room in which the board meeting had been held, but a small one which led off from the board-room. Here the luxury was less apparent. Two desks formed the sole furniture of the room; the carpet under foot was of the commonplace type to be found in the average office. A great panel of tapestry—the one touch of luxury—covered one wall, and a cluster of lights in the ceiling afforded light to the room. A little fire was burning in the grate. On a small table near one of the desks supper had been laid for two. Frank noticed this, and Black, inwardly cursing his own stupidity, smiled.

“It looks as though I expected you,” he said easily, “though, as a matter of fact, I have some friends here to-night, and one of them is staying to supper.”

Frank nodded. He knew the significance of that supper-table and the white paper pads ready for use.

“Sit down,” said Black, and himself sat at one of the desks. Frank seated himself slowly at some distance from the other, half turning to face the man whom he had set himself to ruin.

“Now, let us get to business,” said Black briskly. “There is no reason in the world why you and I should not have an understanding. I’m a business man, you’re a business man, and a smart young man too.” he said approvingly.

Frank made no reply. He knew what was coming.

“Now suppose,” Black continued reflectively, “suppose we make an arrangement like this. You imagine that I am engaged in a most obnoxious type of business. Oh, I know!” he went on deprecatingly, “I know! You’re under the impression that I’m making huge profits, that I’m robbing people by bucket-shop methods. I needn’t tell you, constable, that I am most grieved and indignant that you should have entertained so low an opinion of my character.”

His voice was neither grieved nor indignant. Indeed, the tone he employed was a cheerful admission of fault.

“Now, I am quite content you should investigate my affairs first hand. You know we receive a large number of accounts from all over the Continent and that we pay away enormous sums to clients who—well, shall we say—gamble on margins?”

“You can say what you like,” said Frank.

“Now,” said Black, “suppose you go to Paris, constable, you can easily get leave, or go into the provinces, to any of the big towns in Great Britain where our clients reside, and interview them for yourself as to our honesty. Question them—I’ll give you a list of them. I don’t want you to do this at your own expense “—his big hands were outstretched in protest. “I don’t suppose you have plenty of money to waste on that variety of excursion. Now, I will hand you to-night, if you like, a couple of hundred pounds, and you shall use this just as you like to further your investigations. How does that strike you?”

Frank smiled. “It strikes me as devilish ingenious,” he said. “I take the couple of hundred, and I can either use it for the purpose you mention or I can put it to my own account, and no questions will be asked. Do I understand aright?”

Colonel Black smiled and nodded. His strong, yellow face puckered in internal amusement. “You are a singularly sharp young man,” he said.

Frank rose. “There’s nothing doing.” he said.

Colonel Black frowned. “You mean you refuse?” he said.

Frank nodded. “I refuse,” he said, “absolutely. You can’t bribe me with two hundred pounds, or with two thousand pounds, Black. I am not to be bought. I believe you are one of the most dangerous people society knows. I believe that both here and in the City you are running on crooked lines; I shall not rest until I have you in prison.”

Black rose slowly to his feet. “So that’s it, is it?” he said. There was menace and malignity in his tones. A look of implacable hatred met Fellowe’s steady gaze. “You will regret this,” he went on gratingly. “I have given you a chance that most young men would jump at. I could make that three hundred—”

“If you were to make it thirty-three hundred, or thirty-three thousand,” said Frank impatiently, “there would be no business done. I know you too well, Black. I know more about you than you think I know.”

He took up his hat and examined the interior thoughtfully.

“There is a man wanted in France—an ingenious man who initiated Get-rich-quick banks all over the country, particularly in Lyons and the South—his name is Olloroff,” he said carefully. “There’s quite a big reward offered for him. He had a partner who died suddenly—”

Black’s face went white. The hand that rose to his lips shook a little. “You know too much, I think,” he said. He turned swiftly and left the room. Frank sprang back to the door. He suspected treachery, but before he could reach it the door closed with a click. He turned the handle and pulled, but it was fast.

He looked round the room, and saw another door at the farther end. He was half-way towards this when all the lights in the room went out. He was in complete darkness. What he had thought to be a window at one end turned out to be a blank wall, so cunningly draped with curtains and ingeniously-shaped blinds as to delude the observer. The real window, which looked out on to the street below, was heavily shuttered.

The absence of light was no inconvenience to him. He had a small electric lamp in his pocket, which he flashed round the room. It had been a tactical error on his part to put Black on his guard, but the temptation to give the big man a fright had been too great. He realized that he was in a position of considerable danger. Save the young man he had seen in the street, and who in such an extraordinary manner had recognized him, nobody knew of his presence in that house.

He made a swift search of the room and listened intently at both doors, but he could hear nothing. On the landing outside the door through which he had entered there were a number of antique Eastern arms hung on the wall. He had a slight hope that this scheme of decoration might have been continued in the room, but before he began his search he knew his quest was hopeless. There would be no weapons here. He made a careful examination of the floor; he wanted to be on his guard against traps and pitfalls.

There was no danger from this. He sat down on the edge of a desk and waited. He waited half an hour before the enemy gave a sign. Then, close to his ear, it seemed, a voice asked “Are you going to be sensible, constable?”

Frank flashed the rays of his lamp in the direction from which the voice came. He saw what appeared to him to be a hanging Eastern lantern. He had already observed that the stem from which it hung was unusually thick; now he realized that the bell-shaped lamp was the end of a speaking-tube. He guessed, and probably correctly, that the device had been hung rather to allow Black to overhear than for the purpose of communicating with the occupants of the room.

He made no reply. Again the question was repeated, and he raised his head and answered. “Come and see,” he challenged.

All the time he had been waiting in the darkness his attention had been divided between the two doors. He was on the alert for the thin pencil of light which would show him the stealthy opening. In some extraordinary manner he omitted to take into consideration the possibility of the outside lights being extinguished.

He was walking up and down the carpeted centre of the room, which was free of any impediment, when a slight noise behind him arrested his attention. He had half turned when a noose was slipped over his body, a pair of desperate arms encircled his legs, and he was thrown violently to the floor. He struggled, but it was against uneven odds. The lasso which had pinioned him prevented the free use of his arms. He found himself lying face downwards upon the carpet. A handkerchief was thrust into his mouth, something cold and hard encircled his wrists and pulled them together. He heard a click, and knew that he was handcuffed behind.

“Pull him up,” said Black’s voice.

At that moment the lights in the room went on. Frank staggered to his feet, assisted ungently by Jakobs. Black was there. Sparks was there, and a stranger Frank had seen enter the house was also there, but a silk handkerchief was fastened over the lower half of his face, and all that Frank could see was the upper half of a florid countenance and a pair of light blue eyes that twinkled shiftily.

“Put him on that sofa,” said Black. “Now,” he said, when his prisoner had been placed according to instructions, “I think you are going to listen to reason.”

It was impossible for Frank Fellowe to reply. The handkerchief in his mouth was an effective bar to any retort that might have risen in his mind, but his eyes, clear, unwavering, spoke in unmistakable language to the smiling man who faced him.

“My proposition is very simple,” said Black: “you’re to hold your tongue, mind your own business, accept a couple of hundred on account, and you will not be further molested. Refuse, and I’m going to put you where I can think about you.” He smiled crookedly. “There are some five cellars in this house,” said Black; “if you are a student of history, as I am, Mr. Fellowe, you should read the History of the Rhine Barons. You would recognize then that I have an excellent substitute for the donjon keeps of old. You will be chained there by the legs, you will be fed according to the whims of a trusted custodian, who, I may tell you, is a very absent-minded man, and there you will remain until you are either mad or glad—glad to accept our terms—or mad enough to be incarcerated in some convenient asylum, where nobody will take your accusations very seriously.”

Black turned his head. “Take that gag out,” he said; “we will bring him into the other room. I do not think that his voice will be heard, however loudly he shouts, in there.”

Jakobs pulled the handkerchief roughly from Frank’s mouth. He was half pushed, half led, to the door of the board-room, which was in darkness. Black went ahead and fumbled for the switch, the others standing in the doorway. He found the light at last, and then he stepped back with a cry of horror.

Well he might, for four strangers sat at the board—four masked men. The door leading into the board-room was a wide one. The three men with their prisoner stood grouped in the centre, petrified into immobility. The four who sat at the table uttered no sound.

Black was the first to recover his self-possession. He started forward, then stopped. His face worked, his mouth opened, but he could frame no words. “What—what?” he gasped.

The masked man who sat at the head of the table turned his bright eyes upon the proprietor of the establishment. “You did not expect me, Mr. Olloroff?” he said bluntly.

“My name is Black,” said the other violently. “What are you doing here?”

“That you shall discover,” said the masked man. “There are seats.” Then Black saw that seats had been arranged at the farther end of the table.

“First of all,” the masked man went on, “I will relieve you of your prisoner. You take those handcuffs off, Sparks.”

The man fumbled in his pocket for the key, but not in his waistcoat pocket—his hand went farther down. “Keep your hand up,” said the man at the table, sharply. He made a little gesture with his hand, and Black’s servant saw the gleam of a pistol. “You need have no fear,” he went on, “our little business will have no tragic sequence to-night—to-night!” he repeated significantly. “You have had three warnings from us, and we have come to deliver the last in person.”

Black was fast recovering his presence of mind. “Why not report to the police?” he scoffed.

“That we shall do in good time,” was the polite reply, “but I warn you personally, Black, that you have almost reached the end of your tether.”

In some ways Black was no coward. With an oath, he whipped out a revolver and sprang into the room. As he did so the room went dark, and Frank found himself seized by a pair of strong hands and wrenched from the loose grip of his captor. He was pushed forward, a door slammed behind him. He found himself tumbling down the carpeted stairs into the hall below. Quick hands removed the handcuffs from his wrists, the street door was opened by somebody who evidently knew the ways of the house, and he found himself, a little bewildered, in the open street, with two men in evening dress by his side.

They still wore their masks. There was nothing to distinguish either of them from the ordinary man in the street. “This is your way, Mr. Fellowe,” said one, and he pointed up the street in the direction of Victoria.

Frank hesitated. He was keen to see the end of this adventure. Where were the other two of this vigilant four? Why had they been left behind? What were they doing? His liberators must have guessed his thoughts, for one of them said, “Our friends are safe, do not trouble about them. You will oblige us, constable, by going very quickly.”

With a word of thanks, Frank Fellowe turned and walked quickly up the street. He looked back once, but the two men had disappeared into the darkness.