The Long Arm of Mannister/Chapter 3

AMBLEDON and Polsover were walking arm in arm down the Strand. Their propinquity was not so much a matter of affection as of a mutual desire that their conversation should be unheard by passers-by.

"I tell you, Hambledon," Polsover was saying, "I don't like the idea of having Mannister in this at all. In fact I don't like being in anything with Mannister."

"Why not?" Hambledon asked.

Polsover looked round as though even then he were afraid of being overheard.

"I don't trust him, Freddy," he said, under his breath.

"That's all very well," Hambledon objected, "but he's putting up his own money, and, if he upsets the apple-cart, he stands to lose as much as any of us."

Polsover nodded.

"That's reasonable enough," he said, "but, Freddy, I've always wanted to ask you. What did you think about that Traske affair?"

Hambledon took the cigar from his mouth for a moment and looked at it reflectively.

"Pol," he said, "I'll tell you something. Ben was on his last legs, hadn't money enough to buy a wedding ring, much more pay for a honeymoon. He was simply mad to get hold of the girl. He'd been to me twice that day, but I hadn't a tenner to spare. As a matter of fact you know what low water we've all been in. There was not a fifty pound note amongst us."

"You think, then," Polsover asked, "that he took the bracelet?"

"I do," Hambledon answered, "and if it hadn't been for Sophy De la Mere throttling the evidence, he'd have gone to prison for it. Didn't you think so?"

"I was not sure," Polsover answered thoughtfully. "Somehow or other I found myself wondering whether Mannister had anything to do with it"

"What, with stealing the bracelet do you mean?" Hambledon asked.

"No, but with playing a little trick upon Traske! Mannister seems to have forgiven us in a way, but I tell you, Freddy, I can't trust him. I wish to Heaven he'd never come back, or that having come back, he'd have gone for us like a bull in a china shop. I don't understand the quiet way he took things. We robbed him, Freddy."

Hambledon shrugged his shoulders.

True enough," he answered, "but Mannister's no fool. He'd have done the same in our place, and he doesn't know that we worked it with Sinclair to bolt with a certain lady. I grant you he'd never forgive that, and if I thought he knew it I'd go in fear and trembling. But he don't. It's simply the money, and I don't believe he's the sort to be vindictive about that."

"You may be right," Polsover said. "I hope you are. I can't help wishing, though, that Mannister had never come back. I have an idea that we shall suffer for it. We've lost Traske already, gone to Canada. If any more misfortunes come, I tell you I shall step outside while he's round."

They turned into a side street, and pushing open a swing door a little way down, entered the private bar of a small hotel. Jacobs was sitting there, awaiting them.

"Jolly late, you chaps!" he grumbled. "I've been hanging about for half an hour."

They ordered something to drink, and Jacobs leaned forward confidentially.

"I tell you," he said, "Mannister has got the part to perfection. When you chaps hear him you'll want to put every copper you've got yourselves into the great Atruscan mine."

"The question is," Polsover remarked, "whether our friend, Mr. Harold Cuthbertson, will be similarly impressed."

"You leave that to me," Jacobs replied. "What I want to know is, have you fellows had any luck?"

"Not a bit!" Hambledon declared.

"None at all," Polsover said.

Jacobs set down his glass disconsolately.

"Then I do not see," he declared, "what we can do. Mannister will put up his lot, but only if we put up a similar amount. That's fair enough, for it takes a bit of pluck to put thousands of pounds into shares that aren't worth a snap of the fingers. Do you mean to say you fellows can do nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing!" Polsover declared, disconsolately.

Jacobs opened his mouth, as though he had a suggestion to make. Then apparently he changed his mind, and glanced toward the clock.

"Look here," he said, "we may be able to think of something. At any rate, Cuthbertson has asked us all to luncheon at the Savoy to-day at 1.30, and Mannister's going to tell him about the mine. It's worth coming to, whether we can work the thing or not. Let's go round there."

"I suppose we may as well," Hambledon said slowly, finishing his drink, and arranging his tie in front of the mirror. "If we can't work this little affair, our friend Cuthbertson should turn out to be a profitable acquaintance in some way or another. A young man with a hundred thousand pounds coming to him in about three weeks time, should be worth cultivating."

"Or in other words, plucking," Polsover remarked drily, as they left the place.

The luncheon party at the Savoy was certainly, so far as its immediate object went, a great success. Cuthbertson, a dissolute young boy within a few weeks of his majority, whose only guardians were a firm of lawyers, was the host, and Mannister sat at his right hand. On his left was Jacobs, who had found him in Paris. Polsover and Hambledon completed the little party. They were all men, with the exception of Cuthbertson himself, of a certain amount of presence, assisted perhaps a little too liberally by judicious tailoring. Mannister, however, with his bronzed face and unostentatious blue serge clothes, seemed somehow of a different order. The boy at the head of the table listened to every word he said eagerly. For the first part of luncheon no mention was made of business, but with the arrival of the champagne, Hambledon lifted his glass.

"We must drink Mannister's health," he said, "and may he often come back from expeditions as satisfactory as this one. I only wish," he continued, "that it was as easy to make hundreds every day as he has made it possible for us to make thousands."

Mannister bowed ironically. The eyes of the boy by his side were fixed upon him eagerly.

"I say, Mr. Mannister," he began, in an undertone, "about this mine."

"What about it?" Mannister asked.

"When are you going to take your report in to the office?"

"To-morrow afternoon," Mannister answered. "No one paid me for going out, so I feel at liberty to do exactly as I please. That is why I am giving a few of my friends time to book up some of the shares before I disclose the truth."

"I suppose they'll go up a lot," Cuthbertson remarked.

Jacobs leaned across the table.

"To-day," he said, "the five pound shares can be bought for three pounds ten. The day after to-morrow they will stand at anything between fifteen and twenty pounds."

The boy's eyes glistened. They were not pleasant eyes, for young though he was, they were already dull and heavy looking. The light that shone in them was more the light of greed.

"Couldn't I," he demanded, "buy some?"

Jacobs shook his head. Hambledon began to talk to Polsover about something else, as though the subject scarcely interested him.

"I don't know," Jacobs said thoughtfully. "Between us we've scooped up nearly half of them. There are some more, of course, to be had, but it would mean cash down, and you might find that a little difficult, perhaps." "Not a bit of it," Cuthbertson answered eagerly. "I know a money-lender who'd let me have twenty or thirty thousand to-morrow. You see I'm of age in three weeks, and he knows the money's waiting for me."

"It seems scarcely worth while," Mannister said with a yawn, "for you to come into the money-making market. You'll have plenty in a few weeks."

"One can't have too much," Cuthbertson answered, with a smile. "Of course, I'm coming in for a nice little pile, but now-a-days it's pretty easy to get rid of it. I want to have a yacht if I can afford it, and I'll take all you fellows down the Mediterranean. About these shares, Jacobs. How many do you think you could get for me?"

"I have no idea whether I could get any," Jacobs answered. "How much money could you raise?"

"About thirty thousand," Cuthbertson answered.

"About's no good," Jacobs answered. "You'd better see your friend this afternoon, get to know exactly what you can raise, and how many of the shares you would like, and come down to my office and let me know. Meantime I'll go round the city and see what can be done. But—you'll forgive me, Cuthbertson, I know," he added, leaning across the table, "it's a lot of money for you to make without any risk, and my time is worth something. I'd like to do this for you as a pal, but as you will be making something like a hundred thousand pounds out of it, I shall have to charge you my usual broker's commission. You won't mind that?"

The boy laughed carelessly.

"Not likely," he answered. "I don't want you to do it for nothing. I'll go and see old Lewis directly after luncheon. A hundred thousand pounds! Jove! I'll have the yacht after all! Waiter, pass the wine round, and get another magnum. Mannister, you are taking nothing,"

Mannister smiled.

"Thank you," he said, "I never drink champagne in the middle of the day. I'm only taking one glass out of compliment to you and a somewhat important occasion."

Luncheon after that was not unduly protracted. Before half past three Cuthbertson had hurried off to see his friend. The four men walked together into the bar smoking-room. They stood by the window looking down on the Embankment, out of earshot of any one else in the place.

"He'll get the money for certain," Jacobs said. "All that we need is to raise five thousand pounds for a few hours to buy these rotten shares. How are we going to do it? I have not five pounds in the bank."

Hambledon and Polsover shook their heads. Mannister shrugged his shoulders.

"It is impossible," he said quietly, "for me to raise a sixpence beyond what I have promised."

It was Mannister upon whom they had been relying. Their faces fell.

"It seems to me," Mannister remarked, "that Polsover is the man to arrange this. You have plenty of money in the hands of your firm, I suppose," he continued, "for the purposes of investment. Why can't you draw a cheque on your client's account? You can cover it to-morrow, and the investment is surely good enough."

Polsover shook his head.

"I daren't," he said. "If my partners found out they'd chuck me to-morrow. Besides, it's fraud."

Mannister laughed long and softly. He was leaning with his back against the wall and his arms folded, and there was something sinister about his mirth.

"Really," he said, "you fellows sometimes are funny. However, if the money can't be raised, the scheme is off, that's all. If I'd known there was going to be this difficulty, I might have spared my posing. To think that I've played the mining engineer for nothing!"

"The money must be found," Hambledon declared firmly. "This is too good a chance to send begging."

"Well, I'll leave you fellows to discuss it," Mannister said, picking up his hat.

Polsover laid his hand upon his arm.

"Don't go for a few minutes," he said. "I must think this over. I suppose, after all, it is a justifiable investment, provided, of course, he can raise the money."

Mannister shrugged his shoulders.

"You can place it beyond the limits of risk," he remarked. "First of all, wait till the boy comes back and shows you that he can raise the money. Then make him sign an agreement to buy the shares and pay for them to-morrow. And what on earth does it matter whose money you use to buy them with!"

"That's common sense," Hambledon declared.

"It sounds like it," Polsover admitted.

At about eight o'clock that evening, Cuthbertson had just completed a very careful toilette. In other words, he had succeeded in transforming himself into as close an imitation as possible of the young men whom he had seen about at the restaurants and theatres. His servant announced a visitor, and Mannister was shown into his rooms.

"I shan't detain you five minutes," the newcomer remarked, closing the door after him, "but I want you to spare me that if you will. It's rather an important matter."

"No difficulty about the shares, I hope?" Cuthbertson asked anxiously. "I have just seen Polsover. He told me he had secured twelve thousand, and I have arranged to give him the money for them to-morrow morning."

"It is about that," Mannister said, seating himself, "that I came to see you. You don't mind my smoking, do you?" he he added, producing a cigarette case. "Thanks! Nice rooms you've got here,"

"Aren't bad, are they," Cuthbertson said, "though I mean to do a good deal better when I come into my tin. I say, why won't you come and dine with me?" he added, a little eagerly. "We will go to Luigi's or wherever you like. I am all alone this evening."

Mannister shook his head.

"Sorry," he said, "I can't, and perhaps you would not care to ask me when I have finished what I am going to say to you."

The boy looked at him anxiously.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Only this," Mannister answered. "You've been got hold of by a gang of sharks. Polsover is one, Jacobs is one, Hambledon is one, and I am another. The Atruscan shares which Polsover is proposing to sell you to-morrow at three pounds fifteen, he gave about ten shillings for, and if you try to sell them any time within the next few months, you probably won't be able to realize more than half-a-crown. See?"

Cuthbertson dropped into the chair.

"Why," he exclaimed, "I've signed a promise to take them over to-morrow at three pounds fifteen, thirty thousand pounds worth."

"That is why I came to see you to-night," Mannister remarked. "You see, I am going back upon my pals. Never mind why. I have my own reasons. It may be out of consideration for you, or it may be for my private ends, but I give you my word of honour that the facts are as I tell them to you. Do you believe me?"

Cuthbertson looked at him and groaned.

"I do," he said, "but I've signed the paper."

"You are a minor," Mannister said coolly, "and they can't make you take the shares over. Take my advice. Catch the nine o'clock Continental train to Paris and stay there for a week or so. The thing will have blown over then. Leave a note for Polsover, and tell him you have changed your mind. That is all that is necessary."

"I'll do it," Cuthbertson declared, ringing the bell. "My fellow shall pack me some clothes at once. I say it's awfully good of you. Mr. Mannister, to help me out like this."

"You forget," Mannister reminded him coldly, "that I was one of the gang, only you see it didn't suit me to carry the thing right through. I am not going to tell you even now that Atruscan shares are worthless. They may be a great deal higher next week, or even the week after, but I do tell you that Polsover believes them to be absolutely worthless, and the five pound shares which he is selling you at three pounds fifteen, he bought, as I told you, at an average price of ten shillings, and if he had had a little more time, he could probably have bought them at five. Of course, if you care to speculate—"

"I don't!" the boy interrupted sharply, "I am going to write a note to Polsover at once, and catch that train."

Mannister nodded and strolled towards the door.

"I think," he said, "that you will do well to take this as a warning. The world isn't full of casual acquaintances who are anxious to stuff money into the pockets of strangers. Good night!"

Mannister was sitting at breakfast the next morning in his rooms at Germain Street. He had finished his coffee and was preparing to light a cigarette, when his servant knocked at the door and announced a visitor.

"There is a gentleman of the name of Polsover here, sir," he announced. "He wishes to see you for a moment on urgent business. I told him that you did not care to be disturbed so early, but he seems very much upset."

Mannister nodded, and looked back toward the paper which he was reading.

"You can show him in, Morton," he said.

Polsover, white and scared, appeared almost at once. He scarcely waited until the door was closed before he flung an open letter before Mannister.

"Read that!" he exclaimed. "For God's sake read that!"

Mannister laid down his paper with a little frown.

"I wish you would learn to cultivate a little more self-restraint, my young friend," he said. "Even the appearance of hurry at this hour of the morning disturbs my digestion,"

"D—n your digestion!" Polsover cried, holding down the letter with trembling forefinger. "Read it! See what a mess we are in!"

Mannister adjusted his eyeglass and read the letter carefully. It consisted only of a few hasty lines, written in Cuthbertson's almost illegible scrawl.

"Dear Sir," it began, "I met a friend this evening who gave me a very bad account of the Atruscan mine, and it seems to me that you may have been mistaken in your estimate of the value of those shares. In any case, I have decided not to have anything to do with them, which kindly note. I am going away for a few days to-night, and hope you will not be put to any inconvenience in the matter. Yours faithfully, Harold Cuthbertson."

Mannister folded the letter up and handed it back to Polsover.

"That's awkward," he remarked nonchalantly.

"Awkward!" Polsover gasped. "Do you know that I have used six thousand pounds of the office money to buy those shares! That young blackguard swore that I should have the money by ten o'clock this morning."

"You ought not to have lost sight of him," Mannister said calmly. "No doubt he's met some one who has given him an idea of the truth. The only thing you can do is to put them back upon the market this morning, and stand the loss."

Polsover was shaking from head to foot. "Put them on the market!" he faltered. "Why, it would take days to sell them to realize any price at all, and even then the margin of loss would be far and away greater than any I could afford. I gave shillings a share more for some of the lots, because I wanted them quick, and I know very well there isn't a lot I bought I could get rid of again at anything like the price. If I can't replace the money I borrowed by eleven o'clock this morning, I'm done. Can you do anything, Mannister?"

Mannister shook his head.

"Not I," he answered. "You ought to have some money between you. You've had some lucky hauls within the last few years."

There was a moment's silence. A swift suspicion flashed into Polsover's mind. He bent forward, looking into Mannister's face. Was this a trap into which he had fallen? But Mannister's expression told him nothing. Calm and as imperturbable as ever, his whole attention seemed to be absorbed in the selection of a fresh cigarette.

"We had some good hauls," Polsover groaned, "but we had some thundering bad luck too. You can't help me, Mannister?"

"I can't," Mannister answered. "The only thing I can do is this. If you see that you absolutely can't pull through, I'll give you a thousand pounds for the shares, and take my chance of getting rid of them some way or other. It will be enough to give you a fresh start abroad. You know very well that if you throw these shares on the market this morning, they won't fetch a shilling a piece."

"How long shall you be here?" Polsover asked.

"I'll stay in until eleven," Mannister answered, "and I'll send to the bank for the money."

"If I can't pull through without, I'll be back," Polsover answered, taking up his hat.

Mannister nodded, and returned to his newspaper.

At twenty minutes to eleven Polsover was back again. He was wearing a long travelling coat and a pair of motor spectacles.

"I'll take your thousand, Mannister," he said. "You were right. I can't realize a shilling on the shares, and I can't come anywhere near finding the money I borrowed. It will be all out in less than an hour. I am going to motor down to Southampton. You've got the money? Here are the shares."

He threw some scrip on the table, and Mannister counted out Bank of England notes and gold, a thousand pounds.

"Give me a drink," Polsover gasped. "I haven't had a mouthful to-day, and I'm nearly done."

Mannister mixed him a brandy and soda and filled his pocket with biscuits. Polsover held out his hand as he turned away, but Mannister affected not to see it.

"Better luck to you," he said drily, "and good-bye!"

Polsover hurried away, and Mannister watched him from the window jump into the motor-car which was waiting below. Then he turned back into the room and drew a little folded paper from his breast coat pocket. With steady fingers he drew a firm straight line through the second name upon the list.