Kitabı oku: «Bones in London», sayfa 3

CHAPTER III
BONES AND THE WHARFINGERS

I

The kite wheeling invisible in the blue heavens, the vulture appearingmysteriously from nowhere in the track of the staggering buck, possessqualities which are shared by certain favoured human beings. Nonewspaper announced the fact that there had arrived in the City ofLondon a young man tremendously wealthy and as tremendouslyinexperienced.

There were no meetings of organized robber gangs, where masked men laidnefarious plans and plots, but the instinct which called the kite tohis quarry and the carrion to the kill brought many strangers – who wereequally strange to Bones and to one another – to the beautiful officewhich he had fitted for himself for the better furtherance of hisbusiness.

One day a respectable man brought to Mr. Tibbetts a plan of awarehouse. He came like a gale of wind, almost before Bones haddigested the name on the card which announced his existence andidentity.

His visitor was red-faced and big, and had need to use a handkerchiefto mop his brow and neck at intervals of every few minutes. Hisgeniality was overpowering.

Before the startled Bones could ask his business, he had put his hatupon one chair, hooked his umbrella on another, and was unrolling, withthat professional tremblement of hand peculiar to all who unroll largestiff sheets of paper, a large coloured plan, a greater portion ofwhich was taken up by the River Thames, as Bones saw at a glance.

He knew that blue stood for water, and, twisting his neck, he read"Thames." He therefore gathered that this was the plan of a propertyadjacent to the London river.

"You're a busy man; and I'm a busy man," said the stentorian manbreathlessly. "I've just bought this property, and if it doesn'tinterest you I'll eat my hat! My motto is small profits and quickreturns. Keep your money at work, and you won't have to. Do you seewhat I mean?"

"Dear old hurricane," said Bones feebly, "this is awfully interesting, and all that sort of thing, but would you be so kind as to explain whyand where – why you came in in this perfectly informal manner? Againstall the rules of my office, dear old thing, if you don't mind mesnubbing you a bit. You are sure you aren't hurt?" he asked.

"Not a bit, not a bit!" bellowed the intruder. "Honest John, Iam – John Staines. You have heard of me?"

"I have," said Bones, and the visitor was so surprised that he showedit.

"You have?" he said, not without a hint of incredulity.

"Yes," said Bones calmly. "Yes, I have just heard you say it, Honest

John Staines. Any relation to John o' Gaunt?"

This made the visitor look up sharply.

"Ha, ha!" he said, his laugh lacking sincerity. "You're a bit of ajoker, Mr. Tibbetts. Now, what do you say to this? This is Stivvins'Wharf and Warehouse. Came into the market on Saturday, and I bought iton Saturday. The only river frontage which is vacant between Greenwichand Gravesend. Stivvins, precious metal refiner, went broke in theWar, as you may have heard. Now, I am a man of few words andadmittedly a speculator. I bought this property for fifteen thousandpounds. Show me a profit of five thousand pounds and it's yours."

Before Bones could speak, he stopped him with a gesture.

"Let me tell you this: if you like to sit on that property for a month, you'll make a sheer profit of twenty thousand pounds. You can affordto do it – I can't. I tell you there isn't a vacant wharfage betweenGreenwich and Gravesend, and here you have a warehouse with thirtythousand feet of floor-space, derricks – derrick, named after thehangman of that name: I'll bet you didn't know that? – cranes, everything in – Well, it's not in apple-pie order," he admitted,"but it won't take much to make it so. What do you say?"

Bones started violently.

"Excuse me, old speaker, I was thinking of something else. Do you mindsaying that all over again?"

Honest John Staines swallowed something and repeated his proposition.

Bones shook his head violently.

"Nothing doing!" he said. "Wharves and ships —no!"

But Honest John was not the kind that accepts refusal without protest.

"What I'll do," said he confidentially, "is this: I'll leave the matterfor twenty-four hours in your hands."

"No, go, my reliable old wharf-seller," said Bones. "I never go up theriver under any possible circumstances – By Jove, I've got an idea!"

He brought his knuckly fist down upon the unoffending desk, and Honest

John watched hopefully.

"Now, if – yes, it's an idea!"

Bones seized paper, and his long-feathered quill squeaked violently.

"That's it – a thousand members at ten pounds a year, four hundredbedrooms at, say, ten shillings a night – How many is four hundredtimes ten shillings multiplied by three hundred and sixty-five? Well, let's say twenty thousand pounds. That's it! A club!"

"A club?" said Honest John blankly.

"A river club. You said Greenhithe – that's somewhere near Henley, isn't it?"

Honest John sighed.

"No, sir," he said gently, "it's in the other direction – toward thesea."

Bones dropped his pen and pinched his lip in an effort of memory.

"Is it? Now, where was I thinking about? I know – Maidenhead! Is itnear Maidenhead?"

"It's in the opposite direction from London," said the perspiring Mr.

Staines.

"Oh!"

Bones's interest evaporated.

"No good to me, my old speculator. Wharves! Bah!"

He shook his head violently, and Mr. Staines aroused himself.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Mr. Tibbetts," he said simply; "I'll leavethe plans with you. I'm going down into the country for a night.Think it over. I'll call to-morrow afternoon."

Bones still shook his head.

"No go, nothin' doin'. Finish this palaver, dear old Honesty!"

"Anyway, no harm is done," urged Mr. Staines. "I ask you, is there anyharm done? You have the option for twenty-four hours. I'll roll theplans up so that they won't be in the way. Good morning!"

He was out of the office door before Bones could as much as deliver thepreamble to the stern refusal he was preparing.

At three o'clock that afternoon came two visitors. They sent in a cardbearing the name of a very important Woking firm of land agents, andthey themselves were not without dignity of bearing.

There was a stout gentleman and a thin gentleman, and they tiptoed intothe presence of Bones with a hint of reverence which was notdispleasing.

"We have come on a rather important matter," said the thin gentleman.

"We understand you have this day purchased Stivvins' Wharf – "

"Staines had no right to sell it?" burst in the stout man explosively."A dirty mean trick, after all that he promised us! It is just his wayof getting revenge, selling the property to a stranger!"

"Mr. Sole" – the thin gentleman's voice and attitude were eloquent ofreproof – "please restrain yourself! My partner is annoyed," heexplained "and not without reason. We offered fifty thousand poundsfor Stivvins', and Staines, in sheer malice, has sold theproperty – which is virtually necessary to our client – literally behindour backs. Now, Mr. Tibbetts, are you prepared to make a little profitand transfer the property to us?"

"But – " began Bones.

"We will give you sixty thousand," said the explosive man. "Take it orleave it – sixty thousand."

"But, my dear old Boniface," protested Bones, "I haven't bought theproperty – really and truly I haven't. Jolly old Staines wanted me tobuy it, but I assure you I didn't."

The stout man looked at him with glazed eyes, pulled himself together, and suggested huskily:

"Perhaps you will buy it – at his price – and transfer it to us?"

"But why? Nothing to do with me, my old estate agent and auctioneer.

Buy it yourself. Good afternoon. Good afternoon!"

He ushered them out in a cloud of genial commonplaces.

In the street they looked at one another, and then beckoned Mr.

Staines, who was waiting on the other side of the road.

"This fellow is either as wide as Broad Street or he's a babe in arms,"said the explosive man huskily.

"Didn't he fall?" asked the anxious Staines.

"Not noticeably," said the thin man. "This is your scheme, Jack, andif I've dropped four thousand over that wharf, there's going to betrouble."

Mr. Staines looked very serious.

"Give him the day," he begged. "I'll try him to-morrow – I haven't lostfaith in that lad."

As for Bones, he made an entry in his secret ledger.

"A person called Stains and two perrsons called Sole Bros. Brotherstryed me with the old Fiddle Trick. You take a Fiddel in a PawnBrokers leave it with him along comes another Felow and pretends its aStadivarious Stradivarious a valuable Fiddel. 2nd Felow offers to payfablous sum pawnbroker says I'll see. When 1st felow comes for hisfiddel pawnbroker buys it at fablous sum to sell it to the 2nd felow.But 2nd felow doesn't turn up.

"Note. – 1st Felow called himself Honest John!! I dout if I doughtit."

Bones finished his entries, locked away his ledger, and crossed thefloor to the door of the outer office.

He knocked respectfully, and a voice bade him come in.

It is not usual for the principal of a business to knock respectfullyor otherwise on the door of the outer office, but then it is not usualfor an outer office to house a secretary of such transcendentalqualities, virtue, and beauty as were contained in the person of MissMarguerite Whitland.

The girl half turned to the door and flashed a smile which was ofwelcome and reproof.

"Please, Mr. Tibbetts," she pleaded, "do not knock at my door. Don'tyou realize that it isn't done?"

"Dear old Marguerite," said Bones solemnly, "a new era has dawned inthe City. As jolly old Confusicus says: 'The moving finger writes, andthat's all about it.' Will you deign to honour me with your presencein my sanctorum, and may I again beg of you" – he leant his bonyknuckles on the ornate desk which he had provided for her, and lookeddown upon her soberly – "may I again ask you, dear old miss, to let mechange offices? It's a little thing, dear old miss. I'm never, nevergoin' to ask you to dinner again, but this is another matter. I am outof my element in such a place as – " He waved his hand disparaginglytowards his sanctum. "I'm a rough old adventurer, used to sleeping inthe snow – hardships – I can sleep anywhere."

"Anyway, you're not supposed to sleep in the office," smiled the girl, rising.

Bones pushed open the door for her, bowed as she passed, and followedher. He drew a chair up to the desk, and she sat down without furtherprotest, because she had come to know that his attentions, hisextravagant politeness and violent courtesies, signified no more thanwas apparent – namely, that he was a great cavalier at heart.

"I think you ought to know," he said gravely, "that an attempt was madethis morning to rob me of umpteen pounds."

"To rob you?" said the startled girl.

"To rob me," said Bones, with relish. "A dastardly plot, happilyfrustrated by the ingenuity of the intended victim. I don't want toboast, dear old miss. Nothing is farther from my thoughts or wishes, but what's more natural when a fellow is offered a – "

He stopped and frowned.

"Yes?"

"A precious metal refiner's – That's rum," said Bones.

"Rum?" repeated the girl hazily. "What is rum?"

"Of all the rummy old coincidences," said Bones, with restrained andhollow enthusiasm – "why, only this morning I was reading in TwiddlyBits, a ripping little paper, dear old miss – There's a columncalled 'Things You Ought to Know,' which is honestly worth thetwopence."

"I know it," said the girl curiously. "But what did you read?"

"It was an article called 'Fortunes Made in Old Iron,'" said Bones.

"Now, suppose this naughty old refiner – By Jove, it's an idea!"

He paced the room energetically, changing the aspect of his face withgreat rapidity, as wandering thoughts crowded in upon him and vastpossibilities shook their alluring banners upon the pleasant scene heconjured. Suddenly he pulled himself together, shot out his cuffs, opened and closed all the drawers of his desk as though seekingsomething – he found it where he had left it, hanging on a peg behindthe door, and put it on – and said with great determination andbriskness:

"Stivvins' Wharf, Greenhithe. You will accompany me. Bring yournote-book. It is not necessary to bring a typewriter. I will arrangefor a taxicab. We can do the journey in two hours."

"But where are you going?" asked the startled girl.

"To Stivvins'. I am going to look at this place. There is apossibility that certain things have been overlooked. Never lose anopportunity, dear old miss. We magnates make our fortune by neverignoring the little things."

But still she demurred, being a very sane, intelligent girl, with animagination which produced no more alluring mental picture than a coldand draughty drive, a colder and draughtier and even more depressinginspection of a ruined factory, and such small matters as a lost lunch.

But Bones was out of the room, in the street, had flung himself upon ahesitant taxi-driver, had bullied and cajoled him to take a monstrousand undreamt-of journey for a man who, by his own admission, had onlysufficient petrol to get his taxi home, and when the girl came down shefound Bones, with his arm entwined through the open window of the door, giving explicit instructions as to the point on the river whereStivvins' Wharf was to be found.

II

Bones returned to his office alone. The hour was six-thirty, and hewas a very quiet and thoughtful young man. He almost tiptoed into hisoffice, closed and locked the door behind him, and sat at his desk withhis head in his hands for the greater part of half an hour.

Then he unrolled the plan of the wharf, hoping that his memory had notplayed him false. Happily it had not. On the bottom right-hand cornerMr. Staines had written his address! "Stamford Hotel, Blackfriars."

Bones pulled a telegraph form from his stationery rack and indited anurgent wire.

Mr. Staines, at the moment of receiving that telegram, was sitting at asmall round table in the bar of The Stamford, listening in silence tocertain opinions which were being expressed by his two companions inarms and partners in misfortune, the same opinions relating in a mostdisparaging manner to the genius, the foresight, and the constructiveability of one who in his exuberant moments described himself as HonestJohn.

The explosive gentleman had just concluded a fanciful picture of whatwould happen to Honest John if he came into competition with theaverage Bermondsey child of tender years.

Honest John took the telegram and opened it. He read it and gasped.He stood up and walked to the light, and read it again, then returned, his eyes shining, his face slightly flushed.

"You're clever, ain't you?" he asked. "You're wise – I don't think!

Look at this!"

He handed the telegram to the nearest of his companions, who was thetall, thin, and non-explosive partner, and he in turn passed it withouta word to his more choleric companion.

"You don't mean to say he's going to buy it?"

"That's what it says, doesn't it?" said the triumphant Mr. Staines.

"It's a catch," said the explosive man suspiciously.

"Not on your life," replied the scornful Staines. "Where does thecatch come in? We've done nothing he could catch us for?"

"Let's have a look at that telegram again," said the thin man, and, having read it in a dazed way, remarked: "He'll wait for you at theoffice until nine. Well, Jack, nip up and fix that deal. Take thetransfers with you. Close it and take his cheque. Take anything he'llgive you, and get a special clearance in the morning, and, anyway, thebusiness is straight."

Honest John breathed heavily through his nose and staggered from thebar, and the suspicious glances of the barman were, for once, unjustified, for Mr. Staines was labouring under acute emotions.

He found Bones sitting at his desk, a very silent, taciturn Bones, whogreeted him with a nod.

"Sit down," said Bones. "I'll take that property. Here's my cheque."

With trembling fingers Mr. Staines prepared the transfers. It was hewho scoured the office corridors to discover two agitated char-ladieswho were prepared to witness his signature for a consideration.

He folded the cheque for twenty thousand pounds reverently and put itinto his pocket, and was back again at the Stamford Hotel so quicklythat his companions could not believe their eyes.

"Well, this is the rummiest go I have ever known," said the explosiveman profoundly. "You don't think he expects us to call in the morningand buy it back, do you?"

Staines shook his head.

"I know he doesn't," he said grimly. "In fact, he as good as told methat that business of buying a property back was a fake."

The thin man whistled.

"The devil he did! Then what made him buy it?"

"He's been there. He mentioned he had seen the property," saidStaines. And then, as an idea occurred to them all simultaneously, they looked at one another.

The stout Mr. Sole pulled a big watch from his pocket.

"There's a caretaker at Stivvins', isn't there?" he said. "Let's godown and see what has happened."

Stivvins' Wharf was difficult of approach by night. It lay off themain Woolwich Road, at the back of another block of factories, and toreach its dilapidated entrance gates involved an adventurous marchthrough a number of miniature shell craters. Night, however, wasmerciful in that it hid the desolation which is called Stivvins' fromthe fastidious eye of man. Mr. Sole, who was not aesthetic and by nomeans poetical, admitted that Stivvins' gave him the hump.

It was ten o'clock by the time they had reached the wharf, andhalf-past ten before their hammering on the gate aroused the attentionof the night-watchman – who was also the day-watchman – who occupied whathad been in former days the weigh-house, which he had converted into aweatherproof lodging.

"Hullo!" he said huskily. "I was asleep."

He recognized Mr. Sole, and led the way to his little bunk-house.

"Look here, Tester," said Sole, who had appointed the man, "did a youngswell come down here to-day?"

"He did," said Mr. Tester, "and a young lady. They gave Mr. Staines'sname, and asked to be showed round, and," he added, "I showed 'emround."

"Well, what happened?" asked Staines.

"Well," said the man, "I took 'em in the factory, in the big building, and then this young fellow asked to see the place where the metal waskept."

"What metal?" asked three voices at one and the same time.

"That's what I asked," said Mr. Tester, with satisfaction. "I told 'emStivvins dealt with all kinds of metal, so the gent says: 'What aboutgold?'"

"What about gold?" repeated Mr. Staines thoughtfully. "And what didyou say?"

"Well, as a matter of fact," explained Tester, "I happen to know thisplace, living in the neighbourhood, and I used to work here about eightyears ago, so I took 'em down to the vault."

"To the vault?" said Mr. Staines. "I didn't know there was a vault."

"It's under the main office. You must have seen the place," saidTester. "There's a big steel door with a key in it – at least, therewas a key in it, but this young fellow took it away with him."

Staines gripped his nearest companion in sin, and demanded huskily:

"Did they find anything in – in the vault?"

"Blessed if I know!" said the cheerful Tester, never dreaming that hewas falling very short of the faith which at that moment, and only atthat moment, had been reposed in him. "They just went in. I've neverbeen inside the place myself."

"And you stood outside, like a – a – "

"Blinking image!" said the explosive companion.

"You stood outside like a blinking image, and didn't attempt to go in, and see what they were looking at?" said Mr. Staines heatedly. "Howlong were they there?"

"About ten minutes."

"And then they came out?"

Tester nodded.

"Did they bring anything out with them?"

"Nothing," said Mr. Tester emphatically.

"Did this fellow – what's his name? – look surprised or upset?" persistedthe cross-examining Honest John.

"He was a bit upset, now you come to mention it, agitated like, yes,"said Tester, reviewing the circumstances in a new light. "His 'andwas, so to speak, shaking."

"Merciful Moses!" This pious ejaculation was from Mr. Staines. "Hetook away the key, you say. And what are you supposed to be here for?"asked Mr. Staines violently. "You allow this fellow to come and takeour property away. Where is the place?"

Tester led the way across the littered yard, explaining en route thathe was fed up, and why he was fed up, and what they could do to fillthe vacancy which would undoubtedly occur the next day, and where theycould go to, so far as he was concerned, and so, unlocking one rustylock after another, passed through dark and desolate offices, full ofsqueaks and scampers, down a short flight of stone steps to a mostuncompromising steel door at which they could only gaze.

III

Bones was at his office early the following rooming, but he was notearlier than Mr. Staines, who literally followed him into his officeand slammed down a slip of paper under his astonished and gloomy eye.

"Hey, hey, what's this?" said Bones irritably. "What the dooce isthis, my wicked old fiddle fellow?"

"Your cheque," said Mr. Staines firmly. "And I'll trouble you for thekey of our strong-room."

"The key of your strong-room?" repeated Bones. "Didn't I buy thisproperty?"

"You did and you didn't. To cut a long story short, Mr. Tibbetts, Ihave decided not to sell – in fact, I find that I have done an illegalthing in selling at all."

Bones shrugged his shoulders. Remember that he had slept, orhalf-slept, for some nine hours, and possibly his views had undergone achange. What he would have done is problematical, because at thatmoment the radiant Miss Whitland passed into her office, and Bones'sacute ear heard the snap of her door.

"One moment," he said gruffly, "one moment, old Honesty."

He strode through the door which separated the private from the publicportion of his suite, and Mr. Staines listened. He listened at varyingdistances from the door, and in his last position it would haverequired the most delicate of scientific instruments to measure thedistance between his ear and the keyhole. He heard nothing save thewail of a Bones distraught, and the firm "No's" of a self-possessedfemale.

Then, after a heart-breaking silence Bones strode out, and Mr. Stainesdid a rapid sprint, so that he might be found standing in an attitudeof indifference and thought near the desk. The lips of Bones weretight and compressed. He opened the drawer, pulled out the transfers, tossed them across to Mr. Staines.

"Key," said Bones, chucking it down after the document.

He picked up his cheque and tore it into twenty pieces.

"That's all," said Bones, and Mr. Staines beat a tremulous retreat.

When the man had gone, Bones returned to the girl who was sitting ather table before her typewriter. It was observable that her lips werecompressed too.

"Young Miss Whitland," said Bones, and his voice was hoarser than ever,"never, never in my life will I ever forgive myself!"

"Oh, please, Mr. Tibbetts," said the girl a little wearily, "haven't Itold you that I have forgiven you? And I am sure you had no horridthought in your mind, and that you just acted impulsively."

Bones bowed his head, at once a sign of agreement and a crushed spirit.

"The fact remains, dear old miss," he said brokenly, "that I did kissyou in that beastly old private vault. I don't know what made me doit," he gulped, "but I did it. Believe me, young miss, that spot wassacred. I wanted to buy the building to preserve it for all time, sothat no naughty old foot should tread upon that hallowed ground. Youthink that's nonsense!"

"Mr. Tibbetts."

"Nonsense, I say, romantic and all that sort of rot." Bones threw outhis arms. "I must agree with you. But, believe me, Stivvins' Wharf ishallowed ground, and I deeply regret that you would not let me buy itand turn it over to the jolly old Public Trustee or one of thosejohnnies… You do forgive me?"

She laughed up in his face, and then Bones laughed, and they laughed together.