“WARE ASSASSIN!”
There was a somewhat obscure and badly-lighted stretch of road to
traverse ere Mr. Bootle could reach his destination, which was the hotel
so much frequented by Gregory Staines. Very often, especially at certain
times of the day, the place was tolerably well frequented. But it
chanced sometimes that it was comparatively deserted, and upon this fact
Gregory Staines counted for his opportunity to get rid of his enemy.
That that enemy was a woman was not a deterrent circumstance with him.
She was more dangerous to him than ten ordinary men, by virtue of her
extraordinary perseverance, her devotion to her lover, her unflinching
courage, and the keenness with which she pursued her self-imposed
mission. Therefore, she must be rendered harmless, and there was but one
way of effecting this desirable result.
“It’s her own fault,” he muttered. “If she will throw herself into the
lion’s jaws, she has none but herself to blame if he closes his teeth
upon her. By Jove, what a schemer she is! She hesitates at nothing.
Fancy making love to me, in order to bewitch me into acceding to any
request she might make of me. I know now why she hinted her desire to
see Gibraltar in my company. She wanted to inveigle me into English
territory; but that game’s off, my dear. And then how extraordinarily
well she is got up now! I should never have suspected ‘Mr. Bootle’s’
_bona fides_ if that little fool of a Dollman had not roused my
suspicions about ‘Miss Stratton.’ Being suspicious, it was natural that
I should watch her, and that I should listen at her window. But I shall
never forget my amazement at discovering how completely I had been
hoodwinked. Yet I am sure that my previous failure to penetrate her dual
disguise must be attributed to her superior cleverness, not to my
denseness. This makes it all the more imperative to remove her--and now
I see my chance.”
The next moment he had stealthily sprung forward, and with arm upraised,
was about to plunge a knife into Mr. Bootle’s back, when there was a
sudden rush, and he felt himself borne to the ground by a heavy mass
which threw itself against him. With a startled cry he flung out his
arms, and made a frantic effort to save himself from falling, the knife
which he meant to have used to such deadly purpose dropping from his
nerveless grasp. But his struggle was useless, and he lay gasping with
terror, while Briny (for he it was who had thus opportunely come to the
rescue) held him down, and growled murderous things. Mr. Bootle had
turned round as soon as he heard the commotion behind him, and,
recognising Briny, guessed at once what was the matter.
“The dastard has intended to kill me, or to stun me, thinking me a fit
subject for robbery,” was his first thought. But presently, on
approaching nearer, he recognised his foe, and realised that his
disguise was penetrated. Like lightning, however, the idea flashed
through his brain that even yet it would be good policy to appear to be
unaware of Gregory Staines’ discovery, and to pretend to be ignorant of
the motive of Briny’s attack upon him.
“Briny! Briny!” he called hurriedly. “Mind what you are doing. Off! I
say. Off at once! This is a friend!”
Briny, in obedience to the voice which he knew and loved through every
attempt at disguising it, drew himself off the recumbent figure of the
man, who was dreading lest he should use his fangs, and whom terror was
rendering passive under his weight. But that he relinquished his prey
with great reluctance was quite evident, and he growled menacingly as
Gregory Staines rose to his feet, with a sickly attempt to endorse his
foe’s assumption of the unreasonableness of Briny’s attack upon him.
“That is a nasty brute to fall foul of,” he said angrily. “There is no
telling what mischief he might have done me, if you had not been handy.
I noticed who was in front of me, and hurried forward to overtake you,
when I was hurled to the ground without any ceremony. But how do you
happen to be acquainted with this dog? And how is it that he seems to
know you so well?”
“My dear sir, I can easily explain away your mystification on that
score. Briny belongs to a very dear friend of mine, a Miss Stratton,
whose arrival in Lina I have been expecting for a week. The presence of
Briny shows that my friend is here now, and I shall probably see her
to-morrow.”
Such was Mr. Bootle’s remark, given in a calm and composed voice, which
certainly surprised Staines by the astonishing nerve it evinced. That
the composure of the voice was somewhat belied by an irrepressible
trembling of the limbs for a few moments was not apparent to the latter,
and he felt all the more savage at his failure to secure the
extermination of so implacable an enemy.
“I wonder what the game is now,” he thought. “It can’t be that I’m
expected to swallow this pretence of being friendly. There is still some
further plotting going on, and it is deemed necessary to keep me
befooled a little while longer. I think I will play the unsuspecting
chicken. But I’m too clever to be caught.”
Anyone noticing the further progress of this antagonistic couple towards
the hotel would hardly have imagined them to be either great friends or
great enemies. For they walked, conversing together, fully a yard apart,
and each kept a wary eye upon the other, the dog carefully watching Mr.
Staines’ every movement. Arrived at the hotel, the pair appeared to be
on the same terms as they had been yesterday, and soon began to discuss
the business which ostensibly brought them both here.
“How about your gambling friend at Gibraltar, Mr. Bootle?” was the query
addressed to him.
“Just as rackety as ever,” he replied. “The money being squandered like
water, and any amount of hawks hovering round in search of prey.”
“Ourselves included, eh?”
“Yes, ourselves included.”
“And how is the prey to be got at?”
“By following out the plan suggested yesterday evening. I have seen Mr.
Danvers to-day, and he has accepted my invitation to supper. I had some
difficulty in inducing him to agree to come here. He wanted me to hold
the affair at my rooms in Gibraltar, but I told him that I had invited a
fellow who did not care to show himself on English territory, and with
whose company he would be delighted.”
“And how do you know that I would not care to go to Gibraltar?”
“Natural inference, my dear sir. Perhaps I shouldn’t be too fond of the
place myself if my real name was known there.”
“So you masquerade under an alias?”
“Certainly. Just as you do.”
“Precisely. But I would like to set your mind at rest on one point. I
have not the slightest objection to go to Gibraltar. So if Mr. Danvers
objects to coming here I will meet him on his own ground. Did you hold
out any other inducement to Mr. Danvers to tempt his presence at our
proposed supper?”
“Yes; I told him that my friend Miss Stratton would be present, and
promised him a great treat, for she is both clever and handsome.”
“Exceedingly so, Mr. Bootle. Cleverer than most people would be inclined
to believe; but even such abnormal cleverness as hers over-reaches
itself sometimes.”
“Possibly. She isn’t infallible. But after next Friday her mission in
Spain will be ended, and she can then return to safer quarters.”
For some time after this remark very little was said. Then Mr. Staines,
seeing an acquaintance of his at the other end of the saloon, asked Mr.
Bootle to excuse him for five minutes, and left him to meditate the
progress of affairs by himself.
“I wonder how much and how little he knows,” the latter mused. “And I
also wonder whether he really swallows my yarn about the supper. He has
discovered who I really am. Of that I am convinced. But does he also
know that Mr. Bootle and Miss Stratton are one and the same individual,
and that it is a serious strain on my vocal organs to talk so much in an
assumed voice? His professed willingness to go to Gibraltar does not
deceive me. He knows that the whole story about Mr. Danvers is pure
fiction. Knowing this, he is also convinced that I have an ulterior
motive behind my apparent friendliness. I have hinted that Miss Stratton
has no further business here after Friday. He imagines me to have some
plot on foot, which will take until Friday to mature, although this is
only Monday. If I am not mistaken, he is now plotting with that
villainous-looking fellow who is with him to get rid of me before that
time, and, were I remaining here, I might expect another attack upon my
life. But after to-night, my friend, you will be harmless.”
Meanwhile Mr. Staines was rapidly explaining as much of the situation as
suited him to the individual before-mentioned.
“Don’t look round,” he said. “You saw me come in with the young fellow
I have just left. Do you think that he would prove difficult to tackle
from behind?”
“Not if to tackle him were worth one’s while, mister. Is he in your
way?”
“Very much so.”
“What would his removal be worth to you?”
“Twenty pounds. Ten now, and ten on completion of the job.”
“I think you may depend upon me to conduct the business satisfactorily.
But twenty quid is too little. Double it and put half down, and I’m your
man.”
“Indeed I won’t. The affair wouldn’t be worth all that to me. The
youngster is in my way, but his removal is not necessary. Twenty pounds
it is, or nothing.”
“Very well, then. Nothing it shall be. I want to cut this and go to
America, but I may as well be hard up here a bit longer as reach America
without a penny, and if you won’t give forty, I won’t take the risk.”
Gregory Staines hated to part with so much money, for every penny it
cost him to preserve his liberty made him think that his crime had not
brought him a life whose pleasures were equivalent to the penalties
exacted from him. But he reflected that he would never be safe while so
determined an enemy lived, and resolved upon what he deemed a last
sacrifice.
“Very well,” he said at last, “you shall have what you ask. But mind you
don’t hit the wrong man, and watch the dog. Your best plan will be to
wait until you see us go out together, and then watch your chance. If
necessary, I will help you, for it’s about time this game was ended.”
A few more arrangements were made, the hired assassin received half his
fee, and Mr. Staines returned to his intended victim, remarking: “What a
nuisance duns are! I owed that fellow a few shillings, and he had the
impudence to insist upon being paid to-night.”
“That’s the worst of dealing with common people,” said Mr. Bootle,
carelessly. “But we have talked over all preliminaries about our supper
party, and about the pigeon whom we intend to pluck. On Wednesday night
you must be in good trim, as Danvers is sure to bring a lot of money
with him.”
“And where are you off to now?”
“To my lodgings.”
“Do you mean to take the dog with you?”
“No, I think he had better be sent home. He will be able to find Miss
Stratton, and to-morrow I shall hear from her. She knows where to write
to.”
“I have a better plan than that. Miss Stratton has come to stay at the
house I am in. Come with me, and see her this evening. It is not yet
late.”
This plan was readily agreed to, and the two set out together, each
knowing the other to be plotting his safety, and each warily watching
his companion’s every movement, the dog being quite as watchful as his
companions.
There was also another form carefully gauging his chances of making the
attack by which he hoped to put another twenty pounds in his pocket.
This individual was so exceedingly anxious not to miss his opportunity,
that he failed to notice sundry dark shadows which haunted the gloom to
the rear of him. Presently, his opportunity seemed to have come; he
sprang noiselessly forward, and aimed a terrific blow at the dog’s head,
while Gregory Staines gripped Mr. Bootle’s throat at the same moment to
prevent him making an outcry ere the other man could despatch him.
But, somehow, everything went wrong. The dog eluded the assassin’s blow,
and, with a deep growl, sprang at his throat, the weight of his
onslaught flinging the man to the ground. Simultaneously, the place
seemed full of men, and ere Gregory Staines had time to realise what was
happening, he had been knocked aside, and overpowered, to find himself,
a few moments later, gagged, and bound hand and foot, in a vehicle that
was rapidly being driven away from Lina. Beside him sat a stalwart young
fellow, of soldierly bearing, who made it his business to tighten his
bonds and gags, every time that he struggled to free himself. Opposite
him sat Sergeant-Major Twiley and Mr. Bootle, the former looking
triumphant, the latter tremulously thankful.
“I reckon your gallop’s stopped now, old man,” remarked the
sergeant-major. “You won’t steal many more diamonds, or murder many more
stewards, after this.”
“Thank God that at last I have secured the real thief, and that Harley
will soon be at liberty now,” was Mr. Bootle’s inward comment.
As for the prisoner, who knew that his fancied safety had been his
ruin, and that his daring pursuer had kidnapped him, in order to convey
him to English territory, where he would be amenable to the laws of
England, he could only see one horrible object ahead of him--the
gallows.