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The Pawns Count, a fiction by E. Phillips Oppenheim |
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CHAPTER XIV |
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_ Lutchester, to all appearance, remained sublimely unconscious of the tension which his words and appearance seemed to have created. He had strolled a little further into the room, and was looking down at the packet which he still held. "You are wondering how I got hold of this, of course?" he observed. "Just one of those simple little coincidences which either mean a great deal or nothing at all." "How did you know it was mine?" Pamela asked, almost under her breath. "I'll explain," Lutchester continued. "I was in the lobby of the hotel, a few minutes ago, when I heard the fire bell outside. I hurried out and watched the engines go by from the sidewalk. I have always been rather interested in--" "Never mind that, please. Go on," Pamela asked, almost under her breath. "Certainly," Lutchester assented. "On the way back, then, I saw a little Japanese, who was coming out of the hotel, knocked down by a taxicab which skidded nearly into the door. I don't think he was badly hurt--I'm not even sure that he was hurt at all. I picked up this packet from the spot where he had been lying, and I was on the point of taking it to the office when I saw your name upon it, Miss Van Teyl, in what seemed to me to be your own handwriting, so I thought I'd bring it up." He laid it upon the table. Pamela's eyes seemed fastened upon it. She turned it over nervously. "It is very kind of you, Mr. Lutchester," she murmured. "I'll be perfectly frank," he went on. "I should have found out where the little man who dropped it had disappeared to, and restored it to him, but I fancied--of course, I may have been wrong--that you and he were having some sort of a disagreement, a few minutes ago, when I happened to come in. Anyway, that was in my mind, and I thought I'd run no risks." "You did the very kindest and most considerate thing," Pamela declared. "The little Japanese must have been our new valet," James Van Teyl observed. "I'm beginning to think that he is not going to be much of an acquisition." "You'll probably see something of him in a few minutes," Lutchester remarked. "I will wish you good night, Miss Van Teyl. Good night!" Pamela's reiterated thanks were murmured and perfunctory. Even James Van Teyl's hospitable instincts seemed numbed. They allowed Lutchester to depart with scarcely a word. With the closing of the door, speech brought them some relief from a state of tension which was becoming intolerable. Even then Fischer at first said nothing. He had risen noiselessly to his feet, his right hand was in the sidepocket of his coat, his eyes were fixed upon the table. "So this is why you insisted upon a valet!" James Van Teyl exclaimed, his voice thick with anger. "He's planted here to rob for you! Is that it, eh, Fischer?" Pamela drew the packet towards her and stood with her right palm covering it. Fischer seemed still at a loss for words. "I can assure you," he said at last fervently, "that if that packet was stolen from Miss Van Teyl by Nikasti, it was done without my instigation. It is as much a surprise to me as to any of you. We can congratulate ourselves that it is not on the way to Japan." Pamela nodded. "He is speaking the truth," she asserted. "Nikasti is not out to steal for others. He is playing the same game as all of us, only he is playing it for his own hand. Mr. Fischer has brought him here for some purpose of his own, without a doubt, but I am quite sure that Nikasti never meant to be any one's cat's-paw." "Believe me, that is the truth," Fischer agreed. "I will admit that I brought Nikasti here with a purpose, but upon my honour I swear that until this evening I never dreamed that he even knew of the existence of the formula." "Oh! we are not the only people in the world who are clever," Pamela declared, with an unnatural little laugh. "The first man who took note of Sandy Graham's silly words as he rushed into Henry's was Baron Sunyea. I saw him stiffen as he listened. He even uttered a word of remonstrance. Japan in London heard. Japan in your sitting-room here, in ten days' time, knew everything there was to be known." "I didn't bring Nikasti here for this," Fischer insisted. "Perhaps not," Pamela conceded, "but if you're a good American, what are you doing at all with a Japanese secret agent?" "If you trust me, you shall know," Fischer promised. "Listen to reason. Let us have finished with one affair at a time. You very nearly lost that formula to Japan. Hand over the pocketbook. You see how dangerous it is for it to remain in your possession. I'll keep my share of the bargain. I'll put my scheme before you. Come, be reasonable. See, here's the forged transfer." He drew a paper from his pocket and spread it out upon the table. His long, hairy fingers were shaking with nervousness. "Come, make it a deal," he persisted, "You can pay me the defalcations or not, as you choose. There is your brother's freedom and the honour of your name, in exchange for that pocketbook." Pamela, after all her hesitation, seemed to make up her mind with startling suddenness. She thrust the pocketbook towards Fischer, took the transfer from his fingers and tore it into small pieces. "I give in," she said. "This time you have scored. We will talk about the other matter tomorrow." Fischer buttoned up the packet carefully in his breast pocket. His eyes glittered. He turned towards the door. On the threshold he looked around. He stretched out his hand towards Pamela. "Believe me, you have done well," he assured her hoarsely. "I shall keep my word. I will set you in the path of great things." He left the room, and they heard the furious ringing of the lift bell. Pamela was tearing into smaller pieces the forged transfer. Van Teyl, a little pale, but with new life in his frame, was watching the fragments upon the floor. There was a tap at the door. Nikasti entered. Pamela's fingers paused in their task. Van Teyl stared at him. The newcomer was carrying the evening papers, which he laid down upon the table. "Is there anything more I can do before I go to bed, sir?" he asked, with his usual reverential little bow. "Aren't you hurt?" Van Teyl exclaimed. "Hurt?" Nikasti replied wonderingly. "Oh, no!" "Weren't you knocked down by a taxicab," Pamela asked, "outside the hotel?" Nikasti looked from one to the other with an air of gentle surprise. "I have been to my rooms in the servants' quarters," he told them, "on the upper floor. I have not been downstairs at all. I have been unpacking and arranging my own humble belongings." Van Teyl clasped his forehead. "Let me get this!" he exclaimed. "You haven't been down in the lobby of the hotel, you haven't been knocked down by a taxicab that skidded, you haven't lost a pocketbook which you had previously stolen from my sister?" Nikasti shook his head. He seemed completely mystified. He watched Pamela's face carefully. "Perhaps there has been some mistake," he suggested quietly. "My English is sometimes not very good. I would not dream of trying to rob the young lady. I have not lost any pocketbook. I have not descended lower down in the hotel than this floor." Van Teyl waved him away, accepted his farewell salutation, and waited until the door was closed. "Look here, Pamela," he protested, turning almost appealingly towards her, "my brain wasn't made for this sort of thing. What in thunder does it all mean?" Pamela looked at the fragments of paper upon the floor and sank back in an easy chair. "Jimmy," she confided, "I don't know." _ |
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