“Now, that’s rather funny,” he said in assumed surprise. “I’ve heard a good deal about Sir George, one way and another, and I was always under the impression he was a wealthy man, had come into a large fortune.”
Mr. Simmons gave a contemptuous sniff. “If he came into a large fortune, and I think I’ve heard something of that tale myself, it was before my time. I’ll bet he hasn’t got any of it left now. I tell you what he does, Mr. Cox, he bluffs a lot, he makes out to most of his acquaintances that he’s got tons of money, and, of course, several of them take his word. I’ve heard him putting the pot on often myself when he didn’t know I was listening.”
An eavesdropper, this quiet, respectable-looking man! If he had the smaller infirmities, he would be pretty certain to have the bigger ones. Such was the thought of the shrewd detective.
“But I’ve always heard he bets high, Mr. Simmons.”
The valet, warmed by his potations, gave another sniff of contempt. “Not he; that’s where he bluffs again. I know it for a fact. I overheard him one morning put a fiver on a horse over the telephone; it won at six to one. That same evening, when I was bringing in the whisky, he told a pal of his right before me he’d laid a hundred. Of course, he didn’t know I’d heard him in the morning. That’s how he got the reputation of wealth, by bluffing, gassing and lying.”
It was clear that Simmons hated his employer with the deadly rancour of a man deprived of his legitimate “pickings,” for he proceeded to further disclosures, not at all redounding to Sir George’s credit.
He emitted a sardonic chuckle. “I overheard a little conversation between him and that precious nephew of his one day, and I soon put the pieces together, though I wasn’t in at the beginning of it. It seems Sir George had changed a cheque for thirty pounds at one of his clubs, in the expectation of some money coming in the next day. Well, the money hadn’t come in, and he was in a frightful stew. ‘If I can’t pay-in the first thing to-morrow morning, I’m done, and I shall be had up before the Committee. The bank won’t let me overdraw five pounds; the manager refused me a week ago when I begged the favour of him.’ That’s your wealthy man. Bah! I’m a poor chap enough, but I believe I could buy him up if he was for sale.”
Lane shrugged his shoulders. “If you weren’t in the know you’d hardly credit it, would you, Mr. Simmons?”
“By George, he was in a stew. I remember his words to his nephew; he almost screamed them; ‘Archie, old boy, you must stand by me, you must get me that money this afternoon, or it’s all up with me.’ Queer sort of thing to say, wasn’t it, Mr. Cox.”
“Very queer,” agreed the detective. “Did you hear young Brookes’s reply? I take it you were listening outside the door.”