XII
"Don't open the door for a minute," he said in a low voice. "Evie, will you come tomorrow night—no not tomorrow. Today is Monday, come on Friday."
"Yes, dear." She was glad to escape.
"Through there," he pointed. "François, let mademoiselle out by the pantry door after you have answered the bell."
Who was the visitor? People did not call upon him except by invitation—except Steppe. And Jan Steppe came slowly and suspiciously into the hall. Ronnie scarcely noticed the doctor who followed him.
"Why were you keeping me waiting?" he growled.
"François could not have heard the bell," answered Ronnie easily.
"That's a lie." He looked round the room and sniffed. "You had a woman here, as usual, I suppose?"
Ronnie looked injured.
"M'm. Some shop girl," insisted the big man. "One of your pickups, huh?"
"I tell you I have been alone all the evening," said Ronnie, resigned. "François, isn't that so?"
Jan Steppe saved the servant from needless perjury.
"He's as big a liar as you are. You'll burn your fingers one of these days." He had a deep, harsh laugh, entirely without merriment. "You had a little trouble about one last year, didn't you?"
Merville, impatient and fretful, broke in. "Let him alone, Steppe. I want to get this business over."
Steppe stared at him. "Oh, you want to get it over, do you? We'll hurry things up for you, doctor!"
Ronnie was interested. He had never heard Steppe speak to Merville in that tone. There had been a marked change in Jan's attitude, even in the past few days. However, Ronnie was chiefly concerned in considering all the possible reasons for this call. The doctor explained and Ronnie breathed again.
"We'll sit here," said Steppe.
He sat down in Ronnie's library chair and taking a bundle of documents from his inside pocket, he threw them on the table.
"Here are the papers you want, Merville—and by the way!" He turned in his chair and glowered at Ronnie. "Do you remember we pooled the Midwell Traction shares, Morelle?" His voice was ominous.
"Er—yes—of course," said Ronnie, quaking.
"We undertook to hold the stock until we mutually agreed as to the moment we should unload, huh?" Steppe demanded deliberately.
Ronald made an ineffectual attempt to appear unconcerned.
"And we undertook not to part with a share until the stock reached forty-three. Do you remember, huh?"
"Yes," said Ronnie, and the big man's fist crashed down on the table.
"You're sure you remember?" he shouted. "You sold at thirty-five. Do that again, and d'ye know what I'll do?"
"I'm sure Ronald wouldn't—" began Merville, but was silenced.
"You shut up! It didn't matter so much that Traction slumped. But you broke faith with me, you rat!"
"Don't lose your temper, Steppe," said the other sulkily, "it was a mistake, I tell you. My broker sold without authority."
"Whilst we are on the subject of the Traction shares, I want to ask about the statement I filed in regard to the assets of the company. Was it right?" For a week the doctor had been trying to put this question. "Of we three, I'm the only director—you're not in it and Ronnie isn't in it, if there is anything wrong, I should be the goat?"
Steppe's voice was milder. Here was a topic to be avoided.
"Huh! You're all right. What are you frightened about?"
"I'm not frightened, but you had the draft?"
"It is in the safe," said Steppe with some satisfaction.
"Steppe, how do we stand there?" asked the doctor urgently. "I know Moropulos was doing work for you of a sort. What was his position and Sault's? Is that the safe which Sault made? He told me about it some time ago."
Steppe turned his head again in Ronald's direction.
"You went to the trial! You saw him! You've seen him before—what do you think of him—clever, huh?"
"Well, I don't know—"
"Of course he's clever, you fool," said the other contemptuously. "If you had his brains and his principles, you'd be a big man. Remember that—a big man."
"I am attending the execution," said Ronnie, "the under sheriff is admitting three press reporters, and I am to be one of them."
Steppe eyed him gloomily, groping after the mind of the man who could fear him, yet did not fear to see a man done to death.
"I'll tell you men all about Moropulos and Sault because you're all tarred with my brush. This is the big pull of Sault. A pull he's never used. Moropulos and I had business together. He was on one side of a wall called 'Law', huh? I was on the other. The comfortable side. And he used to hand things over. That put me a bit on his side. There were letters and certain other documents which we had to keep, yet were dangerous to keep. But you might always want 'em. I was scared over some shares that—well, I oughtn't have had them. And that's how Sault came to make the 'Destroying Angel', that's a good name! I christened it. There was a combination lock, the word being known only to Moropulos, Sault and myself. If you used the wrong combination—any combination but the right one, the acids are released and the contents of the safe destroyed. If you try to cut through the sides—the water runs out, down drops a plunger with the same result. When Moropulos was killed I tried to get at it, but the police were there before me. There was a typewritten note pasted on the top of the safe, telling exactly what would happen if they monkeyed with it. They haven't dared to touch it. It's in the Black Museum today with enough stuff inside to send me—well, a hell of a long way."
"Suppose this man tells?" asked Merville fearfully.
"He won't tell. That kind of man doesn't squeal. If it had been Ronald Morelle, I'd have been on my way to South America by now. A word from Sault and I'm—" he snapped his fingers, "but do you think it worries me? I can sleep and go about my work without a second's fear. That's the kind of man I am. No nerves—look at my hand." He thrust out his heavy paw stiffly. "Steady as a rock, huh? Good boy, Sault!"
"I met him once—" began Ronnie.
"I've met him more than once," said the grim Steppe. "A man with strange compelling eyes, the only fellow that ever frightened me!" He looked at Ronald curiously. "It is unbelievable that a white-livered devil like you can see him die. It would make me sick. And yet you, whose nerves ought to be rags considering the filthy life you live, can stand calmly by—ugh! I don't know how you can do it! To see a man's soul go out!"
Ronnie laughed quickly. "Sault's rather keen on his soul. Boyle, the governor, says he recited Henley's poem on his way to the cells."
But Steppe did not laugh. "Soul? H'm. He made me believe in something—soul or spirit or—something. He dominated me. Do you believe in the soul, Merville?"
"Yes, I do. A transient x that only abides in the body at the will of its host."
Ronnie groaned wearily. "Oh, God, are you going to lecture?" he asked and Jan Steppe roared at him.
"Shut up! Go on, Merville. Do you mean that it leaves the body before—death?"
"I think so," said Merville thoughtfully. "I've often stood by the side of a patient desperately sick, and suddenly felt in my body his despair and weakness, and seen him brighten and flush with my strength."
"Really?" Steppe's voice was intense. "Do you mean that your spirits have exchanged themselves?"
Dr. Merville flicked the ash of his cigar into the fireplace. "Call it 'spirit', 'soul', 'X', anything you like—call it individuality. There has been a momentary exchange."
"How do you explain it?"
"Science doesn't explain everything," said Merville. "Science accepts a whole lot of what we call 'incommensurables'."
"H'm," Steppe pushed away the papers and rose. "H'm. That'll do for the night. Keep those papers, you fellows, and digest them. You going out, Morelle?"
"No, would you like me to go anywhere with you?" Ronnie was eager to serve.
"No," shortly. "Merville, I'm dining with you tomorrow. And I hope Beryl won't have a headache this time. I've got a box at the Pantheon."
The doctor was obviously embarrassed.
"She—well, she isn't very bright just now."
"Let her be bright enough to come to dinner tomorrow night," said Steppe.
The door banged and Ronnie drew a deep breath.
"Thank God," he said piously.