“Well, you see, Mr. Bingham, it is not worth much to me, but it’s worth all Captain Bradshaw’s estates to you. I only have to put that paper into your uncle’s hand, and explain the little circumstance connected with it, for you to lose every penny.”
“You are putting the case strongly, Barton, very strongly,” Fred Bingham said, with a coolness that surprised and alarmed the detective; “yes, if Captain Bradshaw saw that document and believed it—and believed it—it would, as you say, cost me the whole of the property, which, if the lad dies, as I believe he will, no doubt will come to me. But you would not gain a single penny by it, Barton, and, as you owe me no grudge, there would be no satisfaction in ruining me. Besides, Captain Bradshaw would not believe you. If I have not that deed in my possession when I leave this office—I have a cab with a fast horse at the door—I shall go straight to my uncle and tell him that a scoundrel named Barton, with whom I have had a little business once or twice in making inquiries as to character, has been threatening to ruin me with him by means of a forged paper, pretending that I knew of the boy’s existence. Captain Bradshaw already knows you are a scoundrel; he knows you have deceived him all these years, and believes you capable of any crime. When, therefore, you appear before him, and show him a document signed with a signature perfectly unlike mine—perfectly unlike, Mr. Barton—you will probably find yourself kicked into the street by the footman. So, you see, the game is not so completely in your hands as you thought.”
Mr. Barton sat completely staggered by his visitor’s coolness. Fred Bingham followed up his advantage.
“Come, Barton, you are a clever fellow, but you have lost the game. The signature does not in the slightest degree resemble my own. I did it, not with any intention of disputing the claim if you acted fair, but as a precaution in case you did not. Now I don’t want to act hardly on you, and I don’t want, I say honestly, even a suspicion to arise in my uncle’s mind. I tell you what I will do in exchange for that deed. I will give you a bond, stating that in consideration of valuable services you have rendered me in the exercise of your business as a detective, I undertake to pay you three thousand pounds upon the death of Captain Bradshaw, should he carry out his declared intention of making me either wholly or partially his heir. These are my terms, what do you say?”
“And you will sign that before a witness?”
“Certainly,” Fred Bingham said.
Mr. Barton rose, and gave his clerk directions to go out and get a stamp of the necessary value. The agreement was then drawn up and signed, the exchange was effected, and Fred Bingham tore up the former deed into the smallest possible pieces. Then, greatly satisfied with the result of this his second encounter with Mr. Barton, he went out into the City to transact the business which had brought him up to London.
CHAPTER XI
AVENGED.
Another fortnight went on, and the beneficial effect which the excitement of the change had effected in the health of the cripple boy began to disappear, and a short irritating cough constantly harassed him. Captain Bradshaw called in the best medical advice, and their verdict proved the death knell of his hopes. His grandson’s lungs were seriously affected. He might of course live for a long time. Yes, change might be beneficial. Torquay? Yes, Torquay would be just the place. And so to Torquay it was decided that they should proceed in a few days.