"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.
IIBones 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?"