LEVY & SON, PRIVATE AGENTS
"Anything in the letters, guv'nor?"
"Nothing so far, Ben, my boy," answered a little old gentleman, who was
methodically opening a pile of envelopes, and carefully scrutinizing the
contents of each before arranging them in separate heaps. "Nothing much
yet. A letter from a despairing mother, entreating us to find her lost
son. Description given, payment--tick! Won't do. Here's a note from Mr.
Wallis about his wife's being at the theater the other night, and a line
from Jack Simpson about that woman down St. John's Wood way. Seems he's
found her, so that's off."
"Humph! business is slack," remarked a younger edition of the old
gentleman, who was standing on the hearth rug, with his silk hat on the
back of his head, in an attitude of unstudied grace.
"Say, guv'nor, you couldn't let me have a fiver, could you? Must keep up
the credit of the firm, don't you know, and I'm awfully hard up. 'Pon my
word, I am."
"I couldn't do anything of the sort!" exclaimed the old gentleman
testily. "Certainly not. The way you spend money is grievous to me,
Benjamin, positively grievous!"
He turned round in his chair, and with his spectacles on the top of his
head surveyed his son and heir with a sorrowful interest.
"Oh, hang it all, some one must spend the money if we're to keep the
business at all!" retorted Mr. Benjamin testily. "I can't live as I do
without it, you know; and how are we to get the information we want?
Look at the company I keep, too."
The old gentleman seemed mollified.
"There's something in that, Ben," he remarked, slowly wagging his head.
"There's something in that, of course. Bless me, your mother was telling
me you was with a lord the other day!"
Mr. Benjamin expanded a little with the recollection, and smiled gently.
"That was quite true, dad," he remarked with a grandiloquent air. "I was
just going into the Cri--let me see, on Tuesday night it was--when whom
should I run up against but little Tommy Soampton with a pal, and we all
had drinks together. He was a quiet-looking chap, not dressed half so
well as--er----"
"As you, Ben," interposed his father proudly.
"Well, I wasn't thinking of myself particularly," Mr. Benjamin
continued, twirling an incipient mustache, and looking pleased. "But
when Tommy introduced him as Lord Mossford, I was that surprised I
nearly dropped my glass."
"What did you say to him, Ben?" asked the little old gentleman in an
awed tone.
Ben drew himself up and smiled.
"I asked him how his lordship was, and whether his lordship'd take
anything."
"And did he, Ben?" asked his father eagerly.
"Rather! He was just as affable as you like. I got on with him no end."
The little old gentleman turned away to his letters again to hide a
gratified smile.
"Well, well, Ben, I suppose you must have it," he said leniently. "Young
men will be young men. Only remember this, my boy--wherever you are,
always keep an eye open for business. Never forget that."
Benjamin, junior, slapped his trousers pocket and grinned.
"No fear, dad. I don't forget the biz."
"Well, well; just wait till I've gone through the letters, and we'll see
what we can do. We'll see. Ha! this reads well. I like this. Ben, we're
in luck this morning. In luck, my boy!"
Mr. Benjamin abandoned his negligent attitude, and, drawing close to his
father, peered over his shoulder. The letter which lay upon the desk was
not a long one, but it was to the point.
"THURWELL COURT,
"_Thursday_.
"DEAR SIRS,
"I am recommended to consult your firm on a matter which requires
the services of a skilled detective and the utmost secrecy. I am
coming to London to-morrow, and will call at your office at about
half-past ten. Please arrange to be in at that time.
"Yours truly,
"HELEN THURWELL.
"To Messrs. Levy & Son,
"Private Agents,
---- Street, Strand, London."
Mr. Levy, senior, drew his hand meditatively down the lower part of his
face once or twice, and looked up at his son.
"Something in it, I think, Benjamin, eh? Thurwell Court! Coat of Arms!
Lady signs herself Miss Thurwell! Money there, eh?"
Mr. Benjamin was looking thoughtfully down at the signature.
"Thurwell, Thurwell! Where the mischief have I heard that name lately.
Holy Moses! I know," he suddenly exclaimed, starting up with glistening
eyes. "Dad, our fortune's made. Our chance has come at last!"
In the exuberance of his spirits he forgot the infirmities of age, and
brought his hand down upon his father's back with such vehemence that
the tears started into the little old gentleman's eyes, and his
spectacles rattled upon his nose.
"Don't do that again, Benjamin," he exclaimed nervously. "I don't like
it; I don't like it at all. You nearly dislocated my shoulder, and if
you had, I'd have stopped the doctor's bill out of your allowance. I
would, indeed! And now, what have you got to say?"
Mr. Benjamin had been walking up and down the office with his hands in
his trousers' pockets whistling softly to himself. At the conclusion of
his father's complaint he came to a standstill.
"All right, guv'nor. Sorry I hurt you. I was a bit excited. Don't you
remember having heard that name Thurwell lately?"
Mr. Levy, senior, shook his head doubtfully.
"I'm afraid my memory isn't what it used to be, Benjamin. The name
sounds a bit familiar, and yet--no, I can't remember," he wound up
suddenly. "Tell me about it, my boy."
"Why, the Kynaston murder, of course. That was at Thurwell Court. Sir
Geoffrey Kynaston was engaged to Miss Thurwell, you know, and she was
one of the first to find him."
"Dear me! Dear me! I remember all about it now, to be sure," Mr. Levy
exclaimed. "The murderer was never found, was he? Got clean off?"
"That's so," assented Mr. Benjamin. "Dad, it's a rum thing, but I was
interested in that case. There was something queer about it. I read it
every bit. I could stand a cross-examination in it now. Dad, it's a
lucky thing. She's coming here to consult us about it, as sure as my
name is Ben Levy. And, by jabers, here she is!"
There was the sound of a cab stopping at the door, and through a chink
in the blinds Mr. Benjamin had seen a lady descend from it. In a moment
his hat was off and on the peg, and he commenced writing a letter at the
desk.
"Dad," he said quickly, without looking up, "leave this matter to me,
will you? I'm up in the case. A lady, did you say, Morrison?"--turning
toward the door. "Very good. Show her in at once."