CHAPTER XVIII
Mr. Johann Wilfer glared vengefully at the smooth face of his assailant, and, struggling still, breathed out, with a choice assortment of oaths, the question:
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"Questions we will leave for the present, my friend," was the reply. "Are you going to struggle much longer? because if so, I shall be under the painful necessity of using still greater force."
Mr. Wilfer lessened his movements.
"Ah!" continued the suave voice. "So you decide to take things quietly. Wise man! Now have the goodness to rise and let me see to whom I have the pleasure of speaking."
Whereupon our friend, Mr. Jasper Vermont, released Johann's throat from the pressure of his knee--for it was by this means he had controlled the other's movements--and allowed him to rise to his feet. It was a very sullen and altogether puzzled individual that stood waiting, uncertain whether to listen to his captor's next words or to make his escape.
Jasper eyed him as a cat does a mouse, on the watch for the slightest attempt to move.
"So!" he said, as he took out his cigar-case, and drew forth one of Leroy's choice Regalias. "So! Now we are on our feet again, we look--well, I must say, none the less a ruffian."
The man turned savagely as if about to run away, but Jasper was too quick for him; with a grip of steel he caught hold of the other's arm.
"Not so fast," he said quietly. "What is your name, my friend?"
"What's that to you?" queried Mr. Wilfer naturally enough, as he settled his ragged scarf, which, during the struggle, had become uncomfortably tightened.
"That is my affair," replied his opponent politely; "perhaps it is merely curiosity. But as a matter of fact, I think I have had the pleasure of meeting you before, and I never like to forget old friends."
Mr. Wilfer grunted.
"Come, let me think," Vermont continued, "were you ever at Canterbury?"
Mr. Wilfer started violently.
"Ah! I am on the right track. Yes, I remember now; it was a little inn in the summer time, a beautiful moonlight night."
"Wasn't me," snarled Wilfer, though his face was pale.
"I thought you were there," said his tormentor as cheerfully and triumphantly as if the other had admitted it. "You're not a good liar," he continued. "If a man can't do that sort of thing well, he'd better stick to the truth. At a little inn in Canterbury. Yes, I remember it all now. I'm glad my memory does not play me tricks." His grasp tightened on Wilfer's sleeve. "I don't like tricks," he purred. "How strange that we should meet again. I think at that time you were an artist; yes, that is what you called yourself, and there was a pretty little girl with you, and you called her your wife. Oh, yes, my friend, you were good at 'calling' things."
"Look here," growled Wilfer, getting his word in at last. "You just stow it, I don't know you----"
"No, I know you don't," said his companion imperturbably, "But you will; oh, yes, you will! Let us go back to Canterbury, where you manufactured such beautiful pictures."
Wilfer moved uneasily.
"Beautiful pictures," continued the mocking voice, "all by Rubens and Raphael and Titian. I shouldn't be surprised if that was one of yours I saw at the Countess of Merivale's to-day, the 'Portrait of a gentleman,' sold for £300. There was a warranty with it, signed, sealed and delivered by a Mr. Johann Wilfer."
"I didn't, it wasn't," the man stuttered, his face almost green in hue, his voice trembling with anger and fear.
Mr. Vermont smiled. He had his man safe and sound.
"Who the fiend are you?" commenced Wilfer, recovering himself; but Vermont's smooth voice interrupted him.
"I was right, I see! What a strange coincidence, Mr. Wilfer, that I should see your really admirable Rubens in the afternoon, and run against--or perhaps I should say, knock you down--in the evening."
Mr. Wilfer was goaded to desperation.
"Look here," he almost shouted, "I don't care if you're the old 'un himself; but that's enough of your jaw. What's your game anyhow? S'pose you did see me in a pub at Canterbury along of a young party, s'pose I am an artist, an' I did sell an old master, that ain't no business of yours; that don't give you the right to knock me down or interfere with me, so now then!"
"Finished?" inquired Vermont, pleasantly. "I quite agree with you, Mr. Wilfer--on some points; but it is greatly my business, as you will see. Had I not come up at that moment, I wonder if my friend would be as safe as he is now."
"Your friend," echoed the other. "Is Mr. Adrien Leroy your friend?"
"He is indeed," replied Jasper with a grin. "Now suppose you tell me what you two gentleman were discussing."
"Suppose I don't?" retorted Wilfer insolently. "You find out for yourself, if you're so clever, Mr. Know-all; I'm off." He tried to push past Vermont and thus effect his escape; but he was not to get off so lightly.
Jasper removed his cigar, which he had been puffing, and dropping his soft, mocking tone, said sternly:
"Stand back; go and sit on that bench. I haven't done with you yet, Johann Wilfer."
"I shan't," was that worthy's prompt answer.
"Then I shall call the police," returned Vermont, pulling out his silver cab-whistle.
Wilfer started back.
"Call 'em," he said defiantly. "I don't care. What's the police to me, as I should be scared of 'em?"
"A great deal," was the calm answer. "If you are mad enough to disobey me, I shall whistle for the police; they will find me struggling with a most villainous-looking ruffian, whom I instantly give in charge for assault and robbery of my dear friend, Mr. Leroy, who has gone in search of assistance."
"It's all a lie," shouted Wilfer furiously.
"Appearances would be too strongly against you, my friend. The law is 'a hass,' as doubtless you have heard before; and when it comes in the shape of a blue-coated, helmeted and thick-headed policeman, whose word do you think would be believed, yours or mine?--to say nothing of this evidence." Stooping, he picked up Leroy's gold watch and chain, which had fallen from his pocket during his struggle with Wilfer. "I found this is your hand. A clear case of assault and robbery, with penal servitude to follow."
Mr. Wilfer, dazed by the thickly-meshed net drawn round him, eyed the watch and yielded.
"Curse you!" he said. "You're a knowing one an' no mistake."
Jasper smiled.
"Thank you," he said; "a genuine compliment, and a candid one. Now then, to business. What did you want with Mr. Leroy?"
The man looked up at the smooth, masterful face, and inwardly acknowledged his opponent's power.
"I'm thinking, guv'nor," he answered slowly, "you heard all there was to hear, and saw all there was to see; an' a bit more besides," he added, as he thought of that precious gold watch he had so stupidly failed to see. "Any'ow, if you're so anxious for me to go over it all again, I wanted to know the whereabouts of a niece of mine--a young girl he took to 'is 'ome, some weeks ago."
Mr. Vermont's eyes gleamed and his hand shook slightly with excitement, as he lit another cigar; for evidently this was the girl at whom, he remembered, Norgate had grumbled. If she could only be kept out of sight, Jasper thought he saw a way to getting his beloved friend into even deeper trouble than he had ever dreamed possible.
"You can prove it, I suppose?" he asked.
"I can," said Mr. Wilfer; though, as a matter of fact, he would have found this rather a difficulty.
Mr. Jasper put his hand into his pocket; as we have said before, he was not very generous when it came to spending his own money, but there were occasions when it was necessary to buy fresh tools, and this was one of them. He drew out some gold, which Mr. Wilfer eyed as greedily as a dog would a bone.
"Now," said Vermont, "your address?"
"Cracknell Court, Soho, guv'nor," returned the man, his manner visibly altering at the sight of money.
"Well, don't you alter it without my permission," Jasper said sternly. "I may want you to do something for me; and, if so, you can get your revenge. Meanwhile, here's something to keep you out of mischief, that's to say, in drink; you'll be safer like that." He handed over the money--about three pounds. "Mind! don't go selling any more forged pictures, like the one the bond of which I hold, or you'll get caught. They make the sentences for fraud pretty heavy nowadays."
Mr. Wilfer shivered. Up to now, he himself had never been imprisoned; but other members of the gang had served various sentences, and their reminiscences were not comforting.
"I understand, guv'nor," he said; "but what of the gal?"
"All you've got to do is wait till she comes back; or if you find her about, let me know," replied Jasper. "Now, be off, and remember I can lay my hands on you--and so can the police--any minute I like, so don't play me any tricks. Good-night."
With that, Mr. Vermont turned on his heel and strode swiftly and silently away.
Wilfer looked after him with a scowl.
"He's a clever devil," he said, as he, too, went on his way.
Clever, Mr. Vermont most undoubtedly was. His worst enemies would not have denied him that virtue; but in this case his cleverness had over-reached itself. It had so amused him to torment his victim, that he had never questioned Wilfer's statement that the girl, Jessica, was his niece. Had he known her identity, subsequent events might have proved far different; but man, with all his gifts, is blind as to the future; he sees as in a glass darkly, trusting and believing in his own feeble powers, as if he were omnipotent.
Meanwhile, Jasper trudged gaily along.
"Strange," he murmured, "how things work round for me. That princely idiot plays into my hands at every turn. What luck that I should just have followed him to-night--I'll live to see him humbled and disgraced yet!" With which pleasant thought he hummed Miss Lester's latest song and pursued his way to the theatre.
Some few hours later, he stood beside Adrien before the latter's motor.
"Are you coming with me, Jasper?" said Leroy heartily. "I'm afraid I've taken up a lot of your time to-night."
"My dear Adrien, does not my whole life belong to you?" replied the arch-hypocrite.
Adrien waved the suggestion aside.
"By the way, what is the time?" he said, feeling for his watch.
"I don't know," answered his friend, "mine has stopped."
"Well, mine has gone," said Leroy quietly. "I remember now; it was in that affair in the park."
"What?" exclaimed Jasper, in tones of the deepest sympathy. "Not that valuable repeater, surely?"
"Yes," said Adrien. "I must get another one."
Jasper smiled, as his fingers touched furtively the watch and chain in question.
"Did you find your papers?" inquired Adrien, as they rolled through the streets. "Jackson told me you lost them coming out of the theatre one night."
"No," answered Vermont, a flush of annoyance crossing his brow. "I have not. But it's of no consequence; Jackson need not have bothered you about such a trifle. Merely accounts. I dropped them somewhere between the stage and Ada's motor, and I suppose I must look upon them as gone for ever."
"I hope not," said Adrien sympathetically.
"They are of no consequence," said Vermont again, as they reached Jermyn Court.
Nevertheless, Mr. Vermont would have given many pounds of his dearly-beloved money to have had those papers safely clutched in his hand. But at present they were lying on the bosom of a wandering, homeless girl, and it was well for Jasper that he could not foresee when she was to cross his path again.