The Five Knots

by Fred M. White

Meanwhile, Jansen was conquering a certain shyness with which he had been afflicted during the earlier part of his tenancy. At first he hardly left the house except at night, but now he walked in and out, whistling blithely to himself as if he had no care or trouble in the world.

So far as his sitting-room was concerned, there was no reason to disregard his statement that he was writing a book. One or two tables were littered with papers, but maps and strange-looking plans which could have only been properly understood by an engineer were most in evidence.

One night, Jansen had cooked his frugal supper over a spirit-lamp, and then put his cooking utensils on one side and lighted a big Dutch pipe. From time to time he glanced at the noisy little clock on the mantel-piece as if anxious he should not forget some important appointment. He drew from his pocket a bundle of letters which he spread out on his ample knee. The contents of the letters appeared to give him satisfaction, for he chuckled again and again as he read them.

"Strange what mistakes clever men make sometimes," he muttered. "There is Flower, who thinks he has deceived everybody. Well, he has not hoodwinked me. Ah, it is true that, as the philosopher says, everything comes to him who knows how to wait, and my three years have not been wasted. Within a few weeks there will no longer be either Samuel Flower nor Cotter to stand in the way. And all I shall have to do is to go down to Maldon Grange and help myself, and spend the rest of my life in ease and pleasure."

Jansen glanced at the clock again, which now indicated the half hour after nine. He rose from his seat and walked on tip-toe towards the door. Despite his great weight he made no more noise than a cat. He could hear his landlord bustling about in the back of the shop as he crept down the stairs and opened the front door. He stood there just a moment with the light of the gas behind him, looking up and down the street as if searching for some one. Then, presently, out of the shadows emerged a slight figure wearing a long overcoat and tall silk hat. As the figure passed Jansen the latter held out a detaining hand.

"All right, my friend," he said. "I am waiting for you. Come this way."

The figure made no demur; no remark whatever crossed his lips. He followed Jansen quietly upstairs into the sitting-room, the door of which was then carefully closed. No word was spoken till Jansen produced the materials for the filling and smoking of an opium pipe which he handed to his companion. The latter had discarded his hat and overcoat. He looked out of place in his European costume as he squatted on the floor with the pipe between his lips.

"You know why you are here?" Jansen asked.

"I know very well," the Oriental said stolidly. "I come because you are willing to help me. You will tell me how, and when it is all over you are going to show me that which I can take back to my country whence your countryman stole it. That is why I am here to-night."

"Quite right," Jansen said cheerfully. "But you are moving too fast. We don't do things so rapidly in this country. Do you know that your man has gone again? Do you know that he left London to-night?"