IV.
Five minutes later Cecil was in his own rooms at the Hôtel de la Plage. Soon there was a discreet knock at the door.
It was his servant who entered, the small, thin man with very mobile eyes and of no particular age, who, in various capacities and incarnations—now as liftman, now as financial agent, now as no matter what—assisted Cecil in his diversions.
“Mr. Vaux-Lowry really did go by the boat, sir.”
“Good. And you have given directions about the yacht?”
“The affair is in order.”
“And you’ve procured one of Mr. Rainshore’s Homburg hats?”
“It is in your dressing-room. There was no mark of identification on it. So, in order to smooth the difficulties of the police when they find it on the beach, I have taken the liberty of writing Mr. Rainshore’s name on the lining.”
“A kindly thought,” said Cecil. “You’ll catch the special G.S.N. steamer direct for London at 1 a.m. That will get you into town before two o’clock to-morrow afternoon. Things have turned out as I expected, and I’ve nothing else to say to you; but, before leaving me, perhaps you had better repeat your instructions.”
“With pleasure, sir,” said Lecky. “Tuesday afternoon.—I call at Cloak Lane and intimate that we want to sell Dry Goods shares. I ineffectually try to conceal a secret cause for alarm, and I gradually disclose the fact that we are very anxious indeed to sell really a lot of Dry Goods shares, in a hurry. I permit myself to be pumped, and the information is wormed out of me that Mr. Simeon Rainshore has disappeared, has possibly committed suicide; but that, at present, no one is aware of this except ourselves. I express doubts as to the soundness of the Trust, and I remark on the unfortunateness of this disappearance so soon after the lamentable panic connected with the lately vanished Bruce Bowring and his companies. I send our friends on ’Change with orders to see what they can do and to report. I then go to Birchin Lane and repeat the performance there without variation. Then I call at the City office of the Evening Messenger and talk privily in a despondent vein with the financial editor concerning the Trust, but I breathe not a word as to Mr. Rainshore’s disappearance. Wednesday morning.—The rot in Dry Goods has set in sharply, but I am now, very foolishly, disposed to haggle about the selling price. Our friends urge me to accept what I can get, and I leave them, saying that I must telegraph to you. Wednesday afternoon.—I see a reporter of the Morning Journal and let out that Simeon Rainshore has disappeared. The Journal will wire to Ostend for confirmation, which confirmation it will receive. Thursday morning.—The bottom is knocked out of the price of Dry Goods shares. Then I am to call on our other friends in Throgmorton Street and tell them to buy, buy, buy, in London, New York, Paris, everywhere.”
“Go in peace,” said Cecil. “If we are lucky, the price will drop to seventy.”