Capper did not look at me. He received his instructions, and went out of the room in search of what was wanted. He came noiselessly back in a moment or two, and during his absence no word was spoken. When the door was finally closed again, I spoke in a tone I vainly endeavoured to control.
"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded.
"Of what?" asked Harvey Scoffold innocently. "Oh! you mean Capper? Purely an act of charity, my dear boy. I wouldn't have wished the old man to starve."
"You're lying," I said hotly. "You asked all those questions to-night during dinner, knowing well that the old man was here. Come, what's the motive?"
He took a long drink and set down his glass with a sigh of satisfaction. "The motive is this," he said, with a curious grin stealing over his features. "While I wish no direct harm to you, my dear boy, I always like to be prepared for anything that may happen. I am in possession of your story—I know practically all that I want to know. But in the fulness of time that story must change and move; something's got to happen to you at some time or other. Now this man Capper—this creature of the lost memory—may be a mere pawn in the game, or he may be something more. Who shall say what is locked away in that numbed brain of his?—who shall say when or under what circumstances he may wake up? I shall be curious to know what he will say when he wakes—curious to understand what the shock was that drove him into his present condition."
"Why should you concern yourself about the matter at all?" I demanded.
"Because I wish to concern myself on your account, my dear fellow," he said blandly. "Really you ought to be very much obliged to me. Bardolph Just would have sent the man packing, or would have let him drift out into the world, with the possibility that at some time or other Capper would wake up and tell his story, and demand sanely to know where his master was. Here I have him safely, and if he blurts out the story at all—always supposing that he has one to blurt out—he can only tell it to a friend. Don't be hasty, and don't misjudge people."
Nevertheless, I did not like it. I knew that I was in the power of this man Scoffold, and I saw, in the line of conduct he was taking, so many steps towards using me for his own ends. The coming to dinner, the taking of this lodging so near to where I lived, the securing of the man Capper. I felt that he was drawing a net about me, out of which I might not be able to struggle.
We sat talking for a long time, and gradually, with his plausible tongue, he persuaded me that he was my friend, and that he meant to help me. He suspected the doctor, he told me, and his real motive in coming to that lodging was to be near me in case of necessity.
"Trust me," he said, "and I will stand your friend. More than that, I want to show you now that my help shall be of a practical nature. I take it that you have no money; that you are dependent upon Bardolph Just for everything?" As I was silent, he nodded, and went on, "Just as I thought. Well, we'll remedy that; you must let me lend you a little money."