A CHEQUE FOR L1,000
It was ten o'clock in the morning, and the usual routine of business had
commenced in the office of Messrs. Levy & Son. Mr. Levy, senior, was
sitting at his desk opening his letters, and Mr. Benjamin, who had only
just returned from a long journey on business of the firm, and did not
feel inclined for office work, was leaning back in the client's chair,
with his feet up against the mantelpiece, and a partly smoked cigar in
his mouth. He had just finished a long account of his adventures, and
was by no means inclined to quit the subject.
"Altogether, dad," he was saying, "it's about the prettiest piece of
business we ever struck. But one thing is very certain. We must get some
more tin from Miss Thurwell. Why, I've been at it five months now, and
the expenses at some of those foreign hotels were positively awful. Not
knowing the confounded lingo, you see, I was forced to stump up, without
trying the knocking-off game."
"Yes, Benjamin. Yes, my son. We must certainly have some more of the
rhino. Your expenses have been positively e-normous, e-normous,"
declared the old man, with uplifted hands and eyes. "Some of your drafts
have brought tears into my eyes. Positively tears," he echoed
mournfully.
"Couldn't be helped, guv'nor. The thing had to be done."
"And you have got it nearly all in order now, Benjamin, eh? You've got
him under your thumb, eh? He can't escape?"
"Not he! Mark my words, dad. The rope's already woven that'll go round
his neck."
The old man looked doubtful.
"If he's such a learned, clever man as you say--writes books and such
like--they'll never hang him, my son. They'll reprieve him. That's what
they'll do."
"I don't care a blooming fig which it is, so long as it comes off. Do
you remember what I told you when Miss Thurwell first came here, dad?"
"Perfectly, my son, perfectly. You said that our fortune was made. Those
were your very words," he added, with glistening eyes. "Our fortune is
made."
"And what I said I'll stick to," Mr. Benjamin declared. "When this case
comes off, it'll be the biggest thundering sensation of the day. And
who'll get the credit of it all? Who tracked him down for all his false
name and sly ways; hunted him all over Europe, found out who he really
was, and why he hated Sir Geoffrey Kynaston so much that he murdered
him? Why, I did, dad--Benjamin Levy, of Levy & Son, Carle Street,
Strand. Ain't it glorious, guv'nor? Ain't it proud?"
Mr. Benjamin's enthusiasm was catching. It was reflected in his father's
face, and something glistened in his eyes. He removed his spectacles,
and carefully wiped them. After all, he was a father, and he had a
father's feelings.
"When will the time come, Benjamin?" he inquired.
"A month to-day, I hope," was the prompt reply. "I have one more
journey to take, and it will be all square."
"Where to? How far?" inquired the old gentleman uneasily.
Mr. Benjamin looked at him, and shook his head. "Come, dad, I know what
you are thinking of," he said. "It's the expense, ain't it?"
"It is, Benjamin," his father groaned. "I hate parting with hard-earned
money for exorbitant bills and these long journeys. Couldn't it be done
without it, Ben?" he inquired, in a wheedling tone. "There's piles of
money gone already in expenses. Piles and piles."
"And if there is, ain't it Miss Thurwell's, you old stupid?" remarked
Mr. Benjamin. "'Tain't likely that we should find the money ourselves."
"Of course, of course. But, Benjamin, my son, the money is thrown away
for all that. We could charge it, you know--charge it always. We must
have a margin--we must positively have a margin to work with."
"Dad, dad, what an old sinner you are!" exclaimed his hopeful son,
leaning back in his chair and laughing. "A margin to work with. Ha! ha!
ha!"
Mr. Levy looked uncertain whether to regard his son's merriment as a
compliment, or to resent it. Eventually, the former appeared to him the
wisest course, and he smiled feebly.
"Dad, just you leave this matter with me," Mr. Benjamin said at last. "I
know what I'm doing, and unless I'm very much mistaken, I see my way to
make this a bigger thing, even as regards the cash, than you and I ever
dreamed of. Leave it to me. Hullo! who's that?"
He peered up over the office blind, and sat down again at once. In a
moment his cigar was behind the grate, and his expression completely
changed.
"Ah! Miss Thurwell, dad," he said coolly, "and I'll bet ten to one I
know what she wants. Mind you leave it all to me. I've no time to
explain, but you'll spoil it if you interfere. Come in. Why, Miss
Thurwell, we were this moment talking of you," he continued, springing
to his feet and offering her a chair. "Please come in."
Helen advanced into the room, and lifted her veil. One swift glance into
her flushed face confirmed Mr. Benjamin's idea as to the reason of her
visit, and he commenced talking rapidly.
"I'm glad you've come this morning, Miss Thurwell. I only got back from
Spain yesterday, and I'm thankful to tell you our case is nearly
complete. Thankful for your sake, because you will have the satisfaction
of seeing the murderer of Sir Geoffrey Kynaston brought to book, and
thankful for ours, because we shall at one stroke establish our
reputation. I need not tell you that that is far more to us than the
reward will be, for our expenses have been enormous."
"Enormous!" groaned Mr. Levy, senior.
"However, we have decided not to take another penny of money from you,
Miss Thurwell," he continued, casting a warning glance at his father.
"After all, the money is not so much to us as our reputation, and this
will be made for ever, now."
Mr. Benjamin paused, a little out of breath, but quite satisfied with
himself. Opposite, his father was purple with anger, and almost choking
at his son's folly. Take no more money from Miss Thurwell! Was the boy
mad?
"I'm afraid, from what you say, Mr. Levy," Helen said hesitatingly,
"that you will be rather disappointed when I tell you the reason of my
visit."
Mr. Benjamin, who knew perfectly well what she was going to say, assumed
an expression of deep concern.
"I find," she continued, "that we must have been making a mistake all
along, and you have evidently been misled. This Mr. Brown, who appeared
such a mysterious personage to us, and whom we therefore suspected, is
no other than Bernard Maddison."
"Yes. I knew that," Mr. Benjamin remarked quietly. "I found that out
very soon, of course. Author, and all that sort of thing, isn't he?
Well, go on, Miss Thurwell, please. I am anxious."
She looked surprised.
"Don't you see that this does away with our theory at once? It is quite
impossible that a man like Bernard Maddison could have committed a
horrible crime like this."
Mr. Benjamin looked ingenuously perplexed.
"I can't say that I follow you, Miss Thurwell," he said, shaking his
head. "All I know is that I can prove this Mr. Bernard Brown, or Bernard
Maddison, or whatever else he chooses to call himself, guilty of that
murder. That's what we want, isn't it?"
A cold chill passed over her, and she was compelled to sink into the
chair which stood by her side. Like a flash she suddenly realized the
impossibility of convincing such men as these of his innocence. Yet,
even then, the worst side of the situation did not occur to her.
"Perhaps we had better put it in this way, Mr. Levy," she said. "I gave
you certain instructions to follow out, which I now rescind. I wish
nothing further done in the matter."
Mr. Benjamin's face was a study. He had contrived to conjure up an
expression which combined the blankest surprise with the keenest
disappointment. Helen began to feel still more uncomfortable.
"Under the circumstances," she said, "and as you seem rather
disappointed, I will pay you the reward just as though the thing had
gone on."
Mr. Benjamin shook his head slowly.
"Do you know, Miss Thurwell, that you are proposing a conspiracy to me?"
"A conspiracy!" she repeated. "I don't understand."
"It's very simple," he went on gravely. "I have in my possession, or
shortly shall have, every particular of this Mr. Maddison's life. I can
show the connection between him and Sir Geoffrey Kynaston, and, in
short, I can prove him guilty of murder. What you ask me to do is to
suppress this. That is the moral side of the question. Then, with regard
to the practical side, if this thing is gone on with, we shall get the
reward you promised and, what is far more important to us, a reputation
which we have looked forward to as a certain foundation for a great
extension of our business. If, on the other hand, we drop it, we get
simply the reward, which, pardon my saying so, would be a miserable
return for all our labor. That is how the matter stands from our point
of view. I think I've expressed it fairly, father?"
Mr. Levy, who had assumed a far more contented expression, solemnly
assented. What a son this was of his, he thought. Bless him!
Helen was very pale, and her heart was beating fast. Why had she come to
this place, and put herself in the power of these men? It was too
dreadful.
"I do not desire to hear a word of Mr. Maddison's history," she said.
"This thing must be stopped. I have my cheque book with me. Cannot you
take money to withdraw from it?"
Mr. Benjamin looked at his father gravely, and Mr. Levy shook his head.
"My dear young lady," he said, "this is a very serious thing, a very
serious thing."
"The fact is," said Mr. Benjamin, "I was going to Scotland Yard for a
warrant this morning."
Helen looked from one to the other appealingly, with tears in her eyes.
Mr. Benjamin appeared to be somewhat moved thereby.
"Look here, dad," he said, "suppose we go into the other room and talk
this thing over for a few minutes. Miss Thurwell will not mind excusing
us."
"Oh, no. Only don't be long!" she pleaded.
They left her for barely five minutes, although to her, waiting in an
agony of impatience, it seemed much longer. When they returned, they
both looked very solemn.
"We have talked this matter over thoroughly, Miss Thurwell," said Mr.
Benjamin, taking up his old position at the desk, "and we cannot help
seeing that it is a great risk for us to run to suppress our
information, and a great disappointment."
"Quite so, quite so," interrupted Mr. Levy. "A great risk, and a great
disappointment!"
"Still, we are willing and anxious to help you," Mr. Benjamin continued,
"and, if you like, we will do so on these terms. If you like to give us
a cheque for a thousand pounds, we will agree to let the matter stand
over for the present. We cannot give you any undertaking to absolutely
destroy or suppress any evidence we may have against Mr. Maddison, as
that would be a distinct conspiracy, but we will agree to suspend our
present action, and to do nothing without communicating with you."
She moved to the desk, and drew out her cheque book.
"I will do it," she said. "Give me a pen, please."
There was not the slightest sign of emotion on either of their faces.
They received the cheque, bowed her out, and watched her disappear into
the street without making any sign. Then Mr. Benjamin's exultation broke
out.
"Dad, I told you that our fortune was made, didn't I. Was I right or
wrong?"
Mr. Levy was so overcome with parental affection, that he could scarcely
command his voice. But he did so with an effort.
"You were right, my son," he exclaimed. "You were right, Benjamin. We
will go together and cash the cheque."