Another Man's Shoes

by Victor Bridges

CHAPTER XI

I looked at it for a moment with a kind of dazzled admiration. Then, after taking a pull at my cigar to restore my composure, I read through the whole precious document from beginning to end.

It appeared to me to be one of the finest and boldest works of fiction that had ever fallen into my hands. Briefly speaking, it commended in glowing terms to the notice of the British Public a new and magnificent group of gold-mines which it declared had just been discovered in the northern provinces of the Argentine. Being fairly well acquainted with the district myself, I felt almost certain that the statement was a colossal lie, but I must admit that the evidence produced was extraordinarily convincing. The Board of Directors consisted of Stuart Northcote, Esq., Lord Sangatte, Sir Matthew Rosedale, and Señor Bonito Morales, the ex-President of the Republic. The latter gentleman I knew to be one of the completest scoundrels that even South America has produced, a fact which confirmed my suspicions as to the fraudulent nature of the entire business.

While I was reading, Lord Sangatte paced up and down the room behind me, apparently trying to recover from the unwonted exertion of being civil to a large number of people in succession. As I laid down the paper he turned impatiently and inquired what I thought of it.

"It seems fairly convincing," I said coolly, "but we might improve it a little yet."

"Well, there will be the notices in the financial papers to go in," answered Sangatte. "Rosedale is seeing about that. He says he can do the whole thing for twenty thousand in shares."

It sounded a fairly cheap way of swindling two millions out of the pockets of the British Public so I contented myself with an approving nod.

"And then there'll be Lammersfield," went on Sangatte. "If you can only work your business with him, the thing's as good as done. With an ex-Home Secretary on the board, the shares will go like hot cakes. I know the idiots."

It only needed this illuminating observation to make the whole affair plain to me. I saw at once that Northcote must have advanced the money to Lord Lammersfield in order to compel that genial nobleman to fall in with his schemes. As Home Secretary, it would, of course, be impossible for the latter to accept a Directorship of any kind, so Northcote's plan had evidently been to compel him to resign office by a judicious mixture of bullying and bribery. With Lammersfield's name on the board, "The Amalgamated Goldfields of South America" would, as Sangatte observed, sell "like hot cakes." It was a pretty little scheme, worthy indeed of the high opinion I had already formed of my talented double.

"Lammersfield will be all right," I said, with a gentle irony that was wasted on my companion. "He is in my hands."

Sangatte grinned evilly. "I thought as much. I saw you talking to him to-night. You're a good man of business, Northcote; I will say that for you."

I accepted the compliment with a gracious smile, though I felt a severe temptation to show his lordship that as a man of action I was still more accomplished. Indeed, with the honourable exception of Maurice, I had never met anyone whom I felt a more ardent desire to kick.

Blissfully unaware of his peril, Lord Sangatte helped himself to a second drink.

"I think I told you in my note," he said, "that I'd fixed up about the Seagull. That old devil, Morton, wanted a thousand for her, but I beat him down to nine hundred in the end. She's a decent boat, for her size, but—"

His interesting discourse was suddenly cut short by a discreet knock. With an irritable exclamation, he crossed the room and flung open the door.

"Well, what is it?" he demanded.

The footman, who was standing on the mat, bowed apologetically. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but her ladyship has sent me to ask you if you could come upstairs."

I regret to say that Lord Sangatte swore. "Very well," he added; "tell her I'll be up in a minute." Then, shutting the door and turning to me, he observed graciously: "I suppose I must go back and make myself pleasant to all this scum. You take the prospectus and let me know what you want altered."

I put the papers in my pocket, and followed him out into the conservatory, where, before we had taken a couple of steps, we were pounced on by a stout and elderly lady who made up for her regrettable lack of costume by an almost painful display of jewels.

With a muttered excuse, Sangatte bolted, leaving me to face the fire.

I had not the remotest notion who my new friend might be, but, fortunately, my ignorance did not matter, for she started talking at once with a velocity and vehemence that gave me no chance of replying, even had I wished to. As far as I could gather, Northcote had accepted some invitation from her which he had failed to comply with, for she began rebuking me with an arch playfulness that I found very distressing.

"Of course I know what you great financiers are—the terrible demands you have on your time. We poor Society people have to catch you when we can. But, my dear Mr. Northcote, you can't think how disappointed poor Constance was. The silly child has taken quite a fancy to you—ha, ha, ha! She was quite rude to poor dear Lord Clevedon, who has been really most attentive to her. But girls are all alike, aren't they? I always say that the thing we haven't got is just the thing we want. Terribly hot, isn't it? They seem to have asked everyone in London. I was just saying—"

To save my reason, I cut short the torrential outpour by asking the good lady whether I couldn't have the felicity of taking her in to supper. She jumped at my offer with avidity, and, still bubbling out an inexhaustible store of commonplace, accepted my escort upstairs to the big room where Sangatte's guests were restoring their spent energies.

On the way, through the interruption of a ferret-faced youth who waylaid us on the stairs, I discovered that my companion's name was Mrs. Garnett. Beyond arousing in me a certain vague sympathy for Mr. Garnett, this information was not of much use, for the only Garnett I had ever known was a gentleman whom I had seen shot in a saloon brawl in Villa Maria some years previously.

Under the circumstances, I refrained from inquiring whether he was any relation, contenting myself with looking after my companion's wants, and interjecting an occasional hearty "Yes" or "No" whenever there was a sufficient break in the monologue to warrant such an intrusion.

We must have been in the supper-room for a good half-hour altogether, during the course of which I consumed the best part of a bottle of champagne, and, as far as I remember, pledged myself definitely to come down to Staines on the following Saturday and relieve the vexation of the amorous Constance. Of course I had no intention of doing anything of the kind, but even my natural affection for the truth had become temporarily paralysed, and I should have agreed to anything rather than attempt to argue.

On returning to the ballroom, Mrs. Garnett's attention was happily diverted by some rash stranger. I took the opportunity of escaping, but only to fall into the clutch of the aged Director of the London General Traffic Company, who had sat next me at our merry little meeting on the previous afternoon.

The old gentleman buttonholed me with such obvious gratification that, although I was very anxious to find Mercia and continue our conversation, I didn't like to hurt his feelings by being too curt with him. When eventually I got away, the ballroom was filling up again, but there was no sign of the one beautiful face for which my eyes were hungering. I tried both the landing and the two long corridors where people were sitting out, but I drew blank in each case. If Mercia was not at supper it was evident that she must be in the conservatory, so down I went, praying devoutly that no more of Northcote's entertaining acquaintances would waylay me on the road.

To my surprise, I found the place quite empty. I suppose the combination of supper and a ballroom in which it was now possible to dance were attractive enough to keep people upstairs; anyhow, I took advantage of my solitude by seating myself in a retired corner, close to the door of Sangatte's study, and indulging in a surreptitious cigarette.

It was possible, I reflected, that Mercia might have gone home. I would have one more look round, and if this proved to be the case, I determined that I would follow her example. Somehow or other, I had a sort of presentiment that Billy was waiting for me in Park Lane, and the thought of the cheery grin with which he would receive my astounding confidence made me long to hurry up our meeting.

As for my—What was that? From within Sangatte's room had come a sudden faint cry, followed almost immediately by the muffled crash of an overturning chair. I leaped to my feet, listening intently, and then again—Good Lord! it was Mercia's voice! In one stride I had crossed the intervening space and gripped the handle of the door. It was locked, but I was in no mood for ceremony. Stepping back, I gave it the full benefit of my fourteen stone, and with a crash of splintering wood it flew open before me.

Sangatte was standing in the centre of the room, his face flushed and angry. Mercia, panting, indignant, and pale, leaned against the mantelpiece. When his lordship saw who it was that had so rudely disturbed his privacy, his expression changed momentarily to one of utter bewilderment. Then, with a furious scowl, he advanced towards me.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, in a hoarse whisper.

I took absolutely no notice of him.

"Miss de Rosen," I said, in my most cheerful manner, "I think this is the dance you were kind enough to promise me."

Mercia laughed softly. "I think it must be," she said.

I stepped forward, and for the fraction of a second Sangatte barred my path. Then his good angel must have whispered in his ear, for he moved suddenly aside, and, without so much as glancing at him, I advanced and offered my arm to Mercia.

"I am sorry I was a trifle late," I said calmly.

With a charming little smile, she put her hand upon my sleeve. "You are always the soul of promptness, Mr. Northcote," she said.

If looks could kill, we should neither of us have reached the door; but Providence having fortunately arranged otherwise, Sangatte's murderous expression had no other effect beyond adding to my secret felicity. As we went out, I looked at him over my shoulder.

"I'll come back and have a chat with you, if you'll wait here, Sangatte," I said.

He made no answer, and I conducted Mercia into the conservatory, closing the somewhat unhappy-looking door behind me.

"Our acquaintance," I observed, "seems fated to be rather an exciting one."

"It seems fated," she returned, "that I should be under an obligation to you. I suppose the gods are amusing themselves at our expense."

I laughed contentedly. "I don't grudge them their fun," I said. "I was beginning to think you had gone home, and that our interesting little conversation would have to remain unfinished."

She stopped for a moment, and looked quickly round, as if to make sure that there was no one within hearing.

"I meant what I said," she whispered hurriedly. "Don't go to Woodford. I—I can't explain to you; indeed I am wrong even in warning you; but make some excuse to-morrow—don't go."

"If we went upstairs and found a couple of chairs," I suggested, "—perhaps—"

"No, no," she interrupted quickly. "I can't stay here any longer. Sir Henry is waiting to take me back; and, in any case, I could tell you nothing more."

We had reached the big hall, where several people were standing about, apparently preparing to leave. Amongst them I noticed the elderly white-haired man who had been Mercia's companion when she first entered the ballroom. I realised now that he must be Sir Henry Tregattock, which explained to me why his face had seemed familiar. He looked much older, however, than when I had met him in La Paz ten years before.

He saw us at once and came forward to meet us.

"Oh, there you are, Mercia," he said. "I was wondering what had happened to you. I don't want to hurry you, but—"

He stopped abruptly. His eyes were fixed on mine, and he had suddenly drawn himself up with a gesture in which amazement and hostility were very evenly blended.

Mercia had gone rather white. "You—you know Mr. Northcote," she faltered. "I will go and put on my things. I shan't be a minute."

She vanished from my side, leaving me in what appeared likely to be a somewhat embarrassing position. It seemed to me highly improbable that Sir Henry could possibly remember me from our five minutes' conversation in the dim past, and, in any case, if he did, there was no earthly reason why he should have bristled up in this alarming fashion. It struck me at once that he must be mistaking me for my double.

"I think Miss de Rosen is right, Mr. Northcote," he remarked, with icy politeness. "We have met before, but under rather different circumstances."

"Yes," I said boldly. "I had the pleasure of five minutes' conversation with you in La Paz ten years ago."

His eyebrows lifted the fraction of an inch. "Indeed!" he remarked dryly. "But I was referring to a somewhat later date. Possibly your experiences in San Luca were not sufficiently pleasant to warrant your retaining any very clear recollection of them."

This was what Billy would have called "a jab in the plexus," but I received it without wincing.

"I have never been in San Luca in my life," I replied boldly.

Sir Henry Tregattock's real answer was written legibly in his eyes. What he actually said was almost as direct.

"I fear San Luca is not as fortunate as you make out."

It was the first time that I had ever been called a liar, at all events by a man, and for a second my temper almost got the better of me. I took a step forward, and then I recollected my promise to Northcote. With a big effort I crushed down my anger.

"It is at least plain that you have retired from diplomacy, Sir Henry," I said.

We were both so intent upon paying compliments that for a moment neither of us noticed that Mercia had returned. It must have been fairly evident to her that the situation was a trifle strained, and she had doubtless hurried over her preparations to prevent things from reaching any distressing crisis. In a white satin opera cloak, with a light Indian shawl thrown over her hair, she looked more beautiful than ever. Coming up to Sir Henry, she laid her hand lightly on his arm.

"Shall I ask them to call the carriage?" she said.

He turned at once, and with a bow to Mercia I stepped back into the conservatory and left them together.

My brisk little interview with Sir Henry had put me in rather an aggressive mood, and it occurred to me that the promotion of a clearer understanding with Lord Sangatte would be an agreeable way of spending the next few minutes. So, without wasting time, I crossed the conservatory and knocked at his door.

"Come in," he said.

He must have guessed who it was, for there was a distinct and regrettable lack of cordiality about the invitation. However, I accepted it for what it was worth, and, entering the room, closed the door behind me.

Sangatte was standing with his back to the fireplace, looking about as amiable as a tiger with a headache. I strolled up to him, and stationed myself in an equally impressive attitude against the end of the sofa.

"Look here, Northcote," he broke out, making an evident effort to keep his temper, "I'd like to know what on earth you think you're playing at."

"We are both looking for information," I returned. "I want to know what you mean by insulting Miss de Rosen."

He scowled at me for a moment, and then laughed—a singularly unpleasant, suggestive sort of laugh.

"Oh, that's how the land lies, is it!" Then he paused.

My fingers itched to take him by the throat and bang his head against the wall, but, fortunately for us both perhaps, that cursed promise of mine to Northcote held me back.

"Well, I don't know what you think about it," he said surlily, "but it seems to me that you and I can't afford to quarrel about a woman just at present. Women and business don't mix."

"I think they will in this case," I said, "unless you play the game a little straighter."

He favoured me with a glance which no one could have described as affectionate.

"You're taking a queer line, Northcote. I'm not a safe man to threaten, as you ought to know."

I laughed. "If it comes to that," I said, "you're not altogether ignorant about me."

It was a chance shot, for at present I was quite unaware how much of my double's unsavoury career Sangatte was really acquainted with. That his knowledge was fairly extensive, however, was plain from his answer to my remark.

"I'll give you credit for being a pretty complete scoundrel, Northcote," he observed graciously, "but, all the same, I tell you plainly I'm not going to stand any interference in this business. You play your hand, and I'll play mine."

"My only objection to that," I observed, "is that your hand seems to be such an excessively dirty one."

He flushed hotly. "It's a new thing to find you playing the moralist," he sneered. "What's the matter? Do you want to marry the girl?"

I kept my temper. "Suppose we leave Miss de Rosen's name out of it," I suggested. "We'll say that, until the Company's launched, it will be safer for you, and better for business generally, if you can manage to restrain your emotions within decent limits."

There must have been a dangerous note in my voice, for, angry as he was, I could see that my words had sobered him. He made one last effort at bluff, however.

"If you think you can frighten me," he declared, "you've got your money on the wrong horse. This isn't South America, you know."

I smiled. "If it was, I shouldn't have troubled to warn you," I said pleasantly.

There was a short silence, Sangatte eyeing me malevolently and, I suppose, weighing up the situation. At last he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, have it your own way," he snarled. "I'm not going to wreck the Company for the sake of any woman in the world."

"That's right," I said cheerfully. "I thought you'd take a reasonable view of the matter."

As I spoke, the big timepiece in the corner gave out a deep, solitary tang. It was one o'clock. I remembered that Billy might possibly be waiting for me.

"Well, as we've settled that little matter," I observed, getting up from the sofa, "I think I shall go home." Then I paused. "Good-night," I added. "I must thank you for a most delightful evening."

Lord Sangatte's expression was not lacking in eloquence, but as he condescended to make no reply, I did not prolong the conversation. Leaving the room, I strolled across the hall to where I had left my coat and hat, and putting them on with the assistance of the powdered footman, I went down the steps and out into the Square.

The stimulating events of the evening were jostling each other so joyously in my mind that for the moment I had quite forgotten my ever-present danger. I walked briskly along, reflecting over the knowledge that I had acquired, and trying to straighten things out into their proper relation with each other.

I now had a pretty good idea of how I stood both with Lammersfield and Sangatte, while my acquaintance with Mercia seemed to be progressing on the most desirable lines. Whether in her heart she still believed me guilty of all the bloodthirsty crimes she had originally laid to my charge I could not quite make up my mind. If she did, it was all the more encouraging that she should have warned me against Maurice.

It suddenly struck me that I had never told her about the mysterious wire, which, without doubt, had been the means of saving my life. That the warning had been a genuine one was now fairly obvious. Could she have sent it herself? and if so, how did it fit in with her almost passionate disclaimer of any knowledge of the Milford affair?

I racked my brains vainly over the problem for several minutes, and then my thoughts flitted to Sir Henry Tregattock. Brief as my interview had been with him, it had left me with my first gleam of information as to Northcote's past. San Luca! So that was where the key to the mystery lay! And a devilish likely place, too, I reflected, unless rumour had been more than usually misleading.

I began to regret that in my wanderings in South America I had never penetrated into the festive region in question. All I knew about it was that, after having been for two years in the grip of that infamous filibuster, Ignace Prado, its worthy citizens had finally succeeded in blowing him and his palace sky-high, and in selecting another President more to their taste. Very likely Northcote had been mixed up with this ruffian, and if so, there was some excuse for M. Guarez and the other gentlemen who were so anxious to murder me.

The thought of being murdered suddenly brought me back to my immediate surroundings. I had left the house in such a whirl of various emotions that it had never occurred to me I was doing an exceedingly foolish thing in walking home alone at this hour of night.

Supposing I had been watched and followed! Instinctively I turned round and looked sharply back down the long curve of lighted pavement. I was just in that short but rather desolate stretch behind St. George's Hospital—an ideal spot for anyone who wanted to stick a knife into a passing stranger without arousing public interest.

My inspection, however, proved reassuring. There was no sign of any impassioned Dago creeping stealthily in my tracks; indeed, the whole thoroughfare looked about as deserted and peaceful as a London street possibly could.

Stepping out into the roadway, and keeping a watchful eye each side of me, I quickly covered the remaining hundred yards that separated me from Hyde Park Corner. Here, as usual, despite the lateness of the hour, there was a certain amount of life and movement. A stolid-looking policeman was moving slowly down the Park railing, four or five belated taxis were standing in the opposite gutter, while a cheerfully illuminated coffee-stall seemed to be doing a brisk business amongst the drivers and their touts.

With a comforting feeling of security I crossed the road, and set off up Park Lane. The full distance was only about one hundred yards, and I had covered perhaps three-quarters of this, and was just getting out my latch-key when, without the slightest warning, the thing happened.

From the dark shadow of a doorway a noiseless figure suddenly leaped out on me with the fierce swiftness of a panther. I saw the gleam of a knife, and at the same instant I lashed out with my fist—I think the quickest and most savage blow I have struck in my life.