“It was the best I could do, Cleek—I’m not a dabster in the art of making up, as you know.” Mr. Narkom’s voice was, like his air, duly apologetic. “Besides, I hung around until I saw him go out before I ventured in; although I was on thorns the whole blessed time. I had to see you, old chap—I simply had to—and every minute was of importance. I shouldn’t have ventured to come at all if it hadn’t been imperative.”
“I’m sure of that,” said Cleek, recovering his good humour instantly. “Don’t mind my beastly bad temper this afternoon, there’s a good friend. It’s a bit of a disappointment, of course, after I’d looked forward to a clear field just as soon as Waldemar should return, but——It is you, first and foremost, at all times and under all circumstances. Other matters count as nothing with me when you call. Always remember that.”
“I do, old chap. It’s because I do that I went to the length of promising Miss Larue that I’d lay the case before you.”
“Miss Larue? A moment, please. Will the lady to whom you refer be Miss Margaret Larue, the celebrated actress? The one in question who treated me so cavalierly last August in that business regarding the disappearance of that chap James Colliver?”
“Yes. He was her brother, you recollect, and—don’t get hot about it, Cleek. I know she treated you very badly in that case, and so does she, but——”
“She treated me abominably!” interposed Cleek, with some heat. “First setting me on the business, and then calling me off just as I had got a grip on the thing and was within measuring distance of the end. I can’t forgive that; and I never could fathom her reason for it. If it was as you yourself suggested at the time, because she shrank from the notoriety that was likely to accrue to her from letting everybody in the world know that ‘Jimmy the Shifter’ was her own brother, she ought to have thought of that in the beginning—when she acknowledged it so openly—instead of making such an ass of me by her high-handed proceeding of calling me off the scent at its hottest, as if I were a tame puppy to be pulled this way and that with a string. I object to being made a fool of, Mr. Narkom; and there’s no denying the fact that Miss Larue treated me very badly in that James Colliver case—very badly and very cavalierly indeed.”
Unquestionably Miss Larue had. Even Mr. Narkom had to admit that; for the facts which lay behind these heated remarks were not such as are calculated to make any criminal investigator pleased with his connection therewith. Clearly set forth, those facts were as follows:
On the nineteenth day of the preceding August, James Colliver had disappeared, as suddenly and as completely and with as little trace left behind as does a kinematograph picture when it vanishes from the screen.
Now the world at large had never heard of James Colliver until he did disappear, and it is extremely doubtful if it would have done so even then but that circumstances connected with his vanishment brought to light the startling disclosure that the worthless, dissolute hulk of a man who was known to the habitués of half the low-class public houses in Hoxton by the pseudonym of “Jimmy the Shifter” was not only all that time and drink had left of the once popular melodramatic actor Julian Monteith, but that he was, in addition thereto, own brother to Miss Margaret Larue, the distinguished actress who was at that moment electrifying London by her marvellous performance of the leading rôle in The Late Mrs. Cavendish.
The reasons which impelled Miss Larue to let the public discover that her real name was Maggie Colliver, and that “Jimmy the Shifter” was related to her by such close ties of blood, were these: The Late Mrs. Cavendish was nearing the close of its long and successful run at the Royalty, and its successor was already in rehearsal for early production. That successor was to be a specially rewritten version of the old-time favourite play Catharine Howard; or, The Tomb, the Throne, and the Scaffold, with Miss Larue, of course, in the part of the ambitious and ill-fated Catharine. Preparations were on foot for a production which would be splendidly elaborate as to scenery and effects, and absolutely accurate as to detail. For instance, the costume which Henry VIII had worn at the time of his marriage with Catharine Howard was copied exactly, down to the minute question of the gaudy stitchery on the backs of the gloves and the toes of the shoes; and permission had been obtained to make the mimic betrothal ring which the stage “Henry” was to press upon the finger of the stage “Catharine” an exact replica of the real one, as preserved among the nation’s historic jewels. Not to be outdone in this matter of accuracy, Miss Larue naturally aimed to have the dresses and the trinkets she wore as nearly like those of the original Catharine as it was possible to obtain. As her position in the world of art was now so eminent and had brought her into close touch with the elect, it was not difficult for the lady to borrow dresses, and even jewels, of the exact period from the heirlooms treasured by members of the nobility, that these might be copied in mimic gems for her by the well-known theatrical and show supply company of Henry Trent & Son, Soho.