Cleek: the Man of the Forty Faces Read online

  CHAPTER XI

  It was not until they were aboard the boat and the shores of France wereslipping off into the distance that Miss Lorne saw anything at all ofDollops. As he had travelled down from Paris to Calais in a separatecompartment there had been no opportunity to do so. He had, too, heldhimself respectfully aloof even after they had boarded the steamer; and,but that once, when a lurch of the vessel had unexpectedly disturbedCleek's equilibrium and knocked his hat off, she might not have seen himeven then.

  But the manner in which he pounced upon that hat, the tender care withwhich he brushed it, and the affectionate interest in both voice andeyes when he handed it back and inquired eagerly, "Didn't hurt yourself,Gov'nor, did you, sir?" compelled her to take notice of him, and, indoing so, to understand the position in which they stood to each other.

  "You are travelling with a servant?" she enquired.

  "More than a servant--a devoted henchman, Miss Lorne. They say you can'tpurchase fidelity for all the money in the world, but I secured thefinest brand of it in the Universe by the simple outlay of two halfcrowns. It is the boy of that night on Hampstead Heath--the boy whostood at the turning point. The Devil didn't get him, you see. He kepthis promise and has been walking the straight road ever since."

  She turned round and looked at him; realizing more of the man'scharacter in that moment than a hundred deeds of bravery, a thousandacts of gentle courtesy, could ever have made her understand.

  "And you took him in?" she said slowly. "You gave him a chance? Youhelped him to redeem himself? How good of you."

  "How good _for_ me, you mean," he laughed, "It was 'bread on the waters'with a vengeance, Miss Lorne. I should have lost my life last night butfor that boy."--And told her briefly and airily how the thing had cometo pass.

  "Don't think it vindictive of me, but I am sorry, I am very, very sorryyou were not able to hand that dreadful woman, Margot, over to theauthorities, Mr. Cleek," she said, with an expression of greatseriousness. "She is not likely to forget or to forgive what you havedone; and some day, perhaps ... Oh, do be on your guard. It was reallyfoolhardy to have attempted the thing alone. Surely you might haveappealed for assistance to the Paris police and not only have minimisedyour personal risk but made sure of the woman's arrest."

  "Not without allowing the authorities to learn exactly what the Baron deCarjorac was so anxious to keep them _from_ learning, Miss Lorne. Theymust have found out what I was after, what really had been lost, if Ihad applied to them for assistance. I had either to do the thing aloneor drop the case entirely. And drop it I would not after _you_ had askedme to accept it, and--Pardon? No, Miss Lorne, I do not know who thewoman Margot really is. Even that name may be fictitious, as was the oneof 'Comtesse de la Tour.' I only know of her that she is one of thegreat figures of the Underworld; that money is her game--money alone;money first, last, and all the time; that her personal history is asmuch of a mystery to her closest associates as was--well, no matter;people of that ilk are not fit subjects to discuss with you. All that Iknow of the woman is that she has travelled pretty well over the world;that some six or eight months ago she was in Ceylon with a--er--acertain member of her crew, and came within an ace of falling foul ofthe law. She had put up a plan to loot the depository of the PearlFisheries Company at a period when there were thousands of pounds worthof gems awaiting transport. With her usual luck she slipped out of thenet and left the country before she could be arrested. But she will havefound something there that will repay her for the visit in one way oranother. Luck of that kind seems to follow her always."

  And a long time afterward he had reason to remember what he said. Forthe present, however, he had banished from his mind all things but thehappiness which was his to-day; and gave himself up to that happinesswith his whole heart.

  Not once did he again intrude anything that had to do with himself, hisexploits, or his future upon Ailsa's attention until all the voyageacross the channel and all the journey from Dover up to London had cometo an end; and even then, eager though he was to know how matters mightshape themselves for _her_ future--he was tactful, considerate, carefulnot to force her into any embarrassing position or to claim from hermore than the merest acquaintance might.

  "You are going to your friend at Hampstead, I suppose," he said as hehanded her into a taxicab at Charing Cross. "I shall like to know if yousucceed in getting the position with Lady Chepstow; and if you send noword to Mr. Narkom, I shall take silence as an assent and know that youhave."

  And afterward, when the days grew in number and late April merged intoearly May and no word came, he knew that she had succeeded; and wascomforted, thinking of her safely housed and perhaps in a position morecongenial than the last. At any rate, she was in England, she was againin the same land with him; and that of itself was comfort.

  But other comforts were not wanting. The full glory of tulip time washere; The Yard had no immediate occasion for his services, and time washis to dawdle in the public parks among the children, the birds, and theflowers.

  "And, lord, how he do love 'em all, bless his heart!" commented Dollopsin confidence to himself as he bustled about, putting the Den in order,watering the plants and touching lovingly the things that belonged tothe master he adored--his daily task when Cleek was in the Park and hadno need for his services. It was a pleasure to the boy, that service.His whole heart was in it. He resented anything that interfered with iteven for an instant; and as at this particular time he was in the verymidst of preparing a small surprise against his master's return, he wasby no means pleased when a sharp whirring sound of a telephone bellshrilled out from the adjoining room and called him from his labour oflove.

  "Oh, blow that thing! A body don't have a minute to call his own sinceit's been put in," he blurted out disgustedly, and answered the call."'Ullo! Yuss; this is Cap'n Burbage's. Wot? No, he aren't in. Dunno whenhe will be. Dunno where he is. But if there's any messidge--I say, whowants him? Wot? Oh, s'elp me. You, is it, Mr. Narkom? Yuss, it's me,sir--Dollops. Wot? No, sir. Went out two hours ago. Gone to KensingtonPalace Gardens. Tulips is in full bloom and you couldn't hold himindoors with a chain at tulip-time, bless his heart. Yuss, sir. Top hat,white spats--same as the 'Cap'n' always wears, sir."

  Narkom, at the other end of the line, called back: "If I miss him, if hecomes in without seeing me, tell him to wait; I'll be round beforethree. Good-bye!" then hung up the receiver and turned to the gentlemanwho stood by the window on the other side of the private office,agitatedly twirling the end of his thick grey-threaded moustache withone hand, while with the other he drummed a nervous tattoo upon thebroad oaken sill. "Not at home, Sir Henry; but, fortunately, I knowwhere to find him with but little loss of time," he said, and pressedtwice upon an electric button beside his desk. "My motor will be at thedoor in a couple of minutes, and with ordinary luck we ought to be ableto pick him up inside of the next half-hour."

  Sir Henry--Sir Henry Wilding, Bart., to give him his full name andtitle--a handsome, well-set-up man of about forty years of age, wellgroomed, and with the upright bearing which comes of military training,twisted round on his heel at this and gave the superintendent an almostgrateful look.

  "I hope so--God knows I hope so, Mr. Narkom," he said agitatedly. "Timeis the one important thing at present. The suspense and uncertainty aregetting on my nerves so horribly that the very minutes seem endless.Remember, there are only three days before the race, and if thoserascals, whoever they are, get at Black Riot before then, God helpme--that's all! And if this man Cleek can't probe the diabolicalmystery, they _will_ get at her, too, and put Logan where they putTolliver, the brutes!"

  "You may trust Cleek to see that they don't, Sir Henry. It is just thekind of case he will glory in; and if Black Riot is all that you believeher, you'll carry off the Derby in spite of these enterprising gentrywho--Hallo! here's the motor. Clap on your hat, Sir Henry, and comealong. Mind the step! Kensington Palace Gardens, Lennard--and as fast asyou can streak it."