I am fairly used to surprises, but there was a magnificence about
this unexpected offer that for a moment took away my breath. I
leaned back and surveyed my double with genuine admiration.
"You certainly do business on a large scale, Mr. Northcote," I said.
"Do you pay in cash?"
For an answer, he thrust his hand into an inside pocket and pulled
out a leather case. This he opened, extracting four bank-notes,
which he laid on the table.
"Here are two thousand pounds," he said quietly. "If you accept, I
will give you a cheque for the remainder."
I looked at the notes with that respectful interest that one keeps
for distinguished strangers. There was no doubt that they were
genuine. Then, with some deliberation, I also lit a cigarette.
"It must be a very unpleasant job," I said regretfully.
For the first time since I had met him, my companion laughed. It was
a grim, mirthless sort of laugh, however, not in the least suggestive
of encouragement.
"Yes," he said dryly: "if I threw it open to competition, I fancy
that the entries would be small." Then he paused. "Before I go any
further," he added, "will you give me your word of honour to keep
what I am going to say entirely private, whether you decline or
accept?"
"Certainly," I said, without hesitation.
"Very well." Again he stopped for a moment apparently hesitating
over a choice of words. "Within a few days," he said slowly, "unless
I take certain steps, there is every likelihood of my being a dead
man."
I thought of the little incident on the Embankment, and I felt that
he was speaking the truth.
"To put it plainly," he said, "I must disappear. If I stay in London
under my own name I shall certainly be killed. It may be a matter of
days or weeks, or even months--that will depend on myself; but the
end is sure and quite unavoidable."
I poured myself out a glass of brandy and held it up to the light.
"The situation," I observed, "has at least the merit of being a
simple one."
The same cold smile flickered across his lips. "It is not quite as
simple as it seems. The gentlemen who are so anxious to accelerate
my passage to heaven are doing me the honour of paying me a very
close and intelligent attention. I might possibly be able to avoid
them,--to-night, for instance, I believe I have done so,--but whether
I could get out of the country alive is a very open question."
"Ah!" I muttered. Light was beginning to dawn on me.
He nodded, as though answering an unspoken question. "Yes," he said;
"the thought struck me the moment I caught sight of you under the
lamp. If I were a believer in the supernatural, I should say you had
been sent by the Devil. I can't think of any other power that would
be particularly anxious to assist me."
"Well," I said lightly, "if the Devil sent me, I am at least indebted
to him for a good supper. What is it you want me to do?"
He paused again. Then, very slowly, he made his amazing
suggestion--the words dropping from his lips with an almost fierce
intensity.
"I want you to take my place in the world. I want you to change
clothes with me to-night and go out of this restaurant as Stuart
Northcote."
I took a deep breath and bent forward, gripping the table with my
hands.
"Yes," I said, "and what then?"
"I want you to go back to my house in Park Lane, and for three weeks
to live there as I should have done. If you are still alive at the
end of that time, which is extremely improbable, you can do anything
you please."
For one instant the thought struck me that the whole thing was a
jest--the fruit of some ridiculous bet or the passing whim of a
half-mad millionaire. But one glance at the hard blue eyes, which
were still ruthlessly searching mine, swept the idea abruptly from my
mind.
"But it's impossible," I broke out. "Even if your servants failed to
see the difference, I should certainly be found out directly I met
any of your friends."
"How?" he asked. "They might think I had become forgetful,
eccentric, but what else could they imagine?"
"Oh, think of the hundred things I should be ignorant of: people's
names, your appointments and business affairs--even my way about the
house. Why, I should be bound to betray myself."
"I have thought of all that," he answered harshly. "If I couldn't
provide against it, I should not have made the proposal."
I looked at him curiously. "And what is there to prevent me from
taking your money and making no attempt to keep my side of the
bargain?"
"Nothing," he said, "except your word of honour."
There was a moment's silence. "Well," I said, with a short laugh,
"the security seems rather inadequate, but if it satisfies you--" I
shrugged my shoulders. "Now, let me see if I have got this
interesting offer quite correct. In return for ten thousand
pounds--two thousand in notes and the rest by cheque--I am to become
Mr. Stuart Northcote for three weeks. It is highly probable that
during that time I shall be assassinated. Failing this unfortunate
interruption, I shall then be at liberty to resume my own character."
Northcote bowed, half mockingly as it seemed. "You have stated the
idea admirably," he said.
I helped myself to a second glass of brandy and sipped it with
meditative enjoyment. The prospect of being a millionaire, if only
for three weeks, distinctly appealed to me. Apart from that, there
was something vastly attractive in the fantastic nature of the whole
business. Only a few hours before, I had been grumbling to myself
over the dullness and monotony of life, and here was Fate thrusting
before me an almost incredible chance of adventure and excitement. I
could feel my heart beating faster at the thought.
"If it is not too inquisitive a question," I said calmly, "I should
rather like to know why your removal is a matter of such urgent
importance to someone?"
Northcote's eyes narrowed, and his lips set in a singularly
unpleasant smile. "It is a private affair," he answered coldly, "and
I'm afraid it must remain so. I can assure you, however, that in
taking my place you will not be in danger except of assassination. I
have committed no crime"--he laughed--"at least, no crime in the
excellent eyes of the English law."
"That is comforting," I observed, "but, all the same, I should be
more inclined to accept if I knew who it was that was so anxious to
stick a knife into you."
"Unfortunately," he answered, "I don't know myself. If I did"--his
face hardened for a moment into a cruel mask. "Well, I think you
have a proverb about two being able to play at the same game. I can
only tell you that the danger is real and imminent. I have good
reason for believing that my own servants are honest, but beyond that
I would trust no one."
"It seems to me," I said sadly, "that I shall have to stay indoors."
Northcote thrust his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a small red
leather notebook.
"After the first ten days," he said, "you can please yourself. To
start with, you would have to carry out certain engagements I have
made, which you will find in this book."
"And you imagine I could do that successfully?"
Northcote nodded. "You have excellent nerves and plenty of common
sense. Provided you give your word of honour to carry the part
through to the best of your ability, I am perfectly ready to trust
you. If you fail"--he shrugged his shoulders--"at least I shall have
had my start."
A sudden mischievous joy in the promised excitement of the situation
came flooding through my heart. With an almost involuntary gesture I
thrust my arm across the table.
"Very well," I said. "I promise you I'll do my best."
He gripped my hand, and for a moment we sat there on either side of
the table without speaking a word.
Northcote was the first to break the silence.
"I envy you your nerve, Mr. Burton," he said coldly.
"It's not as good as it was," I replied, with regret.
Northcote tore a slip of paper out of his pocket-book and, laying it
on the table, began to draw a plan in pencil. I pulled my chair
round so that I could see what he was doing.
"I'm making you a rough sketch of the inside of the house," he said.
"This is the ground floor, and here's the dining-room and the
billiard-room. Your study and bedroom are on the first floor,
exactly above. They open into each other--like this." He outlined
the various rooms neatly and skilfully, writing their names in the
centre of each square.
"That's plain enough," I said, taking the paper. "What about the
servants?"
"There are only three of them--two women, and Milford, the butler. I
have got rid of all the others during the last two weeks. These
three have all been with me since I took the house, and I think you
may trust them. Milford you certainly can. I've treated the man
well, and he's by way of being rather grateful."
"Well," I said, "if he swallows me as Stuart Northcote, I expect I
shall pull through."
"Yes," returned Northcote. "The only other person you need worry
about is my cousin--Maurice Furnivall." He paused. "I believe I
have promised to go down and stay with him for several days in
Suffolk. If you can get out of it without difficulty, perhaps you
had better. In any case, be very careful not to make a slip of any
sort when you see him."
"What kind of man is he?" I asked.
Northcote frowned. "I am not sure. He is the only relation I have
in the world, and to a certain extent I have trusted him. I
sometimes think I have been foolish. If I knew for certain--" His
brow darkened still more, and his hands clenched until the white skin
stood out upon his knuckles.
"There is a suggestion of thoroughness about your methods,
Northcote," I observed, "that rather appeals to me."
"If I had stuck at trifles," said Northcote grimly, "I shouldn't be
here now." He pulled out a cheque-book, and, taking up his pen
again, filled in a cheque for eight thousand pounds.
"Here's the money," he said. "There are a few hundred pounds in my
account besides this, and if you like I'll sign a couple of cheques
that you can fill in for current expenses. By the way, it may be
necessary for you to imitate my signature--do you think you can do
it?"
"My experience as a forger is limited," I said, "but I dare say I can
manage it with a little practice. What are you going to do about
money yourself?"
He laughed. "My arrangements have been made for some time. I have
only been waiting the chance of putting them into practice."
There came a sudden knock at the door.
Northcote thrust his cheque-book back into his pocket, and then,
getting up and crossing the room, turned back the key.
The head waiter entered, and stood apologetically by the threshold.
"I came to see whether you would require anything else, sir."
"I think not," said Northcote coldly. "You had better let me have
the bill, though. I suppose there is no objection to our using this
room for a little longer? We are discussing some business matters."
The waiter bowed. "Oh, certainly not, sir. Half-past twelve is the
hour we have to close; but even then, if you cared to engage a
bedroom--"
"That will be ample time," said Northcote.
He produced a five-pound note, which he handed to the waiter, waving
away the latter's offer of change.
With a gratified murmur of thanks, the man withdrew, leaving us alone.
Northcote locked the door behind him, and returned to the table.
"I am ready," he said curtly.
In a moment I had slipped off my coat and laid it on the chair.
Our complete transformation must have taken us about a quarter of an
hour. With the exception of his patent leather shoes, which for
absolute comfort were certainly half a size too small, Northcote's
clothes fitted me with extraordinary accuracy. I put them on with a
certain deliberation, enjoying the sensation of finding myself in
really well-cut garments--an experience to which I had been a
stranger for a good many years. When I had finished, I examined
myself in the glass with no little satisfaction. As far as looks
went, the deception was perfect.
Northcote, who had meanwhile arrayed himself in my own discarded blue
suit, presented just as remarkable a change. He seemed to be the
exact image of the reflection I was accustomed to see each morning in
my lodging-house mirror.
Stepping to the table, I filled up the two liqueur glasses with a
last taste of the Milan's excellent brandy.
"Here's to our lost selves!" I said.
Northcote drank the toast, and setting down the glass handed me his
cheque-book and latch-key, which he had laid on the table in front of
him. I put them away in my pockets with the notes.
Voltaire's last words came suddenly into my mind. "And now for the
great adventure," I quoted gaily.
"We had better not go out together," said Northcote. Then he paused.
"Good-bye," he added. "I don't suppose we shall meet again, unless
there is really such a place as hell."
"I shall at least have a good chance of finding out first," I
retorted.
I picked up the long fawn-coloured overcoat which lay on the sofa,
and walking across the room, turned the key. Northcote stood where
he was, his arms folded, watching me with his strange, mirthless
smile.
"Good-bye," I said, "and good luck." And then, going out, I closed
the door behind me.
Walking along the corridor of the hotel, I reached the side entrance
by which we had come in. A man in livery, who was on duty, at once
stepped forward.
"Taxi, sir?" he inquired.
"Yes," I said; "I'll have a taxi."
I felt quite cool, though my heart was beating a little faster than
usual. This sort of thing was certainly more entertaining than
hunting reluctant capitalists, or even hanging round the docks trying
to fix a free passage to the States.
When the cab rolled up, I handed a shilling to the obliging gentleman
in livery, and gave the driver Northcote's address in Park Lane.
Then I stepped inside, and with a pleasant feeling of exhilaration
settled myself back on the comfortably cushioned seat.
I had done it now--there could be no doubt about that! Unless I
broke my word to Northcote, I was in for about as exciting a time as
the most enterprising spirit could wish for. Apart from the cheerful
prospect of finding a knife between my ribs at any hour of the day or
night, I was faced with the truly colossal task of keeping up another
man's identity for three weeks!
I began to wonder again whether it was not probable that Northcote
was a lunatic, or that he was playing some stupendous practical joke
at my expense. I ran over in my mind the whole of our interview,
from the moment when he had waylaid me. There was certainly no sign
of madness about him, apart from his amazing proposals; and if the
whole thing were a jest, well, it promised to be a pretty expensive
one for its author. Besides that, I felt sure that the man was in
danger of his life, or at all events believed himself to be so.
There was no acting about the sudden flash with which his hand had
travelled to his pocket in that second on the Embankment.
Pulling out the paper which he had given me, I lit a wax match and
began to study his plan of the house. It seemed simple enough. I
only had to walk upstairs, and my bedroom was facing me on the other
side of the landing, the windows apparently looking out into the
Park. That knowledge, at all events, promised to be sufficient for
the night. I could reserve anything in the nature of further
exploration until the next morning.
By this time we had reached Hyde Park corner, and, crossing the road,
the driver turned to the right up Park Lane. Beyond knowing the
number, I had not the remotest notion where Northcote lived, and I
had something of a shock when we stopped quite suddenly outside an
imposing-looking mansion only about a hundred yards above Apsley
House.
"Good Lord!" I muttered. "I hope there's no mistake."
At all events, the number was on the gate-post right enough, and the
driver seemed quite confident that he had reached his correct
destination. So, pulling myself together, I stepped on to the
pavement and handed the man half a crown.
He touched his cap respectfully, and putting in his clutch, glided
away slowly in the direction of Oxford Street.
For perhaps thirty seconds I hesitated; then, mounting the broad
stone steps, I thrust my latch-key into the door. It opened easily
enough, and with a deep breath I stepped in over the threshold.
I found myself in a large circular hall, surrounded by several stone
pillars and lit by an electric chandelier. A plentiful supply of
palm trees in pots, and some beautiful hanging baskets of hothouse
flowers, lent the place an air of luxury and comfort, which was
increased by the deep easy-chairs of red leather scattered about in
various corners. So far, I had certainly no fault to find with my
new home.
I had just closed the front door, and was advancing across the thick,
noiseless Turkey carpet, when there was a sound of discreet
footsteps, and a man suddenly appeared from a curtained aperture at
the back of the hall. He was a quiet, pleasant-looking fellow of
about forty-five, with an alert, clean-shaven face, and hair just
beginning to turn grey. His clothes were the conventional costume of
an English butler.
"This," I said to myself, "must be Milford."
I took off my hat, so that the light fell full on my face.
"Any letters, Milford?" I asked easily.
I was watching him as I spoke, looking out keenly for the slightest
start of surprise or hint that he had noticed something unusual in my
appearance. But nothing could have been more natural than the manner
in which he came forward and relieved me of my coat and hat.
"There were some letters by the last post, sir," he said. "I have
placed them in the study."
"Thanks," I said, and turned towards the stairs.
"Shall I bring you up the brandy and soda now, sir?" he asked.
I had not the least desire for any more brandy, having already
treated myself with unusual generosity in this respect at the Milan.
Still, as a final drink seemed to be a nightly custom of Northcote's,
I thought I had better follow his usual routine.
"Yes," I said, "you can bring it up."
I mounted the wide staircase, which was carpeted in the same
luxurious manner as the hall, and, crossing the landing at the top,
opened the door of the room which Northcote had marked as my study.
The electric switch was just inside, and I turned it on, flooding the
whole apartment with a soft, rich light thrown from an unseen
arrangement of lamps somewhere behind the cornice.
It was a big and magnificently furnished room. Whatever faults
Northcote may have had, the neglect of his own comfort was apparently
not one of them. From the carved oak book-shelves and the huge
easy-chairs down to the two or three little reading-lamps placed
about on various tables, there seemed to be everything that luxury
could demand or ingenuity contrive. I stood with my back to the open
red-tiled hearth, gazing over it all with distinct approval.
There was a knock at the door, and Milford came in, carrying a tray,
which contained a decanter, a syphon, and a glass. He placed these
on a small table by the fireplace, and then withdrew as noiselessly
as he had entered.
On the farther side of the room stood a handsome oak desk, at which
Northcote was evidently accustomed to conduct his business and
correspondence. I walked over to it, and seated myself in the chair.
So far, everything had gone surprisingly well. A kind of wild
hilarity at the novelty of my amazing position was running through my
veins. I felt inclined to burst out laughing, or to get up and waltz
round the room.
The thought of Milford's emotions, however, if he should come in
unexpectedly, prevented me from putting my feelings into action. I
pulled out Northcote's pocket-book, and, opening it at the page where
he had jotted down his immediate engagements, began to glance through
them. As I did so, my left hand, in a curious, unconscious way, was
playing with the framework of a small silver mirror which stood on
one side of the desk.
It was the tiniest sound behind me that attracted my attention--a
sound so soft that, if my hearing had not been particularly acute, I
should certainly have failed to notice it. Without moving, I glanced
sideways in the mirror.
A long curtain, which apparently concealed a recess at the side of
the fireplace, was being gently moved aside. With every muscle
tense, I watched the process, my heart beating steadily in swift,
insistent strokes.
Then suddenly, to my amazement, a girl stepped out noiselessly into
the room. Her face was deadly pale, and half hidden by the drooping
hat that she was wearing; but even in the mirror I could see that she
was astonishingly pretty.
For a moment she paused, then very cautiously she pulled out a small
pistol of some kind from under the long cloak that she was wearing,
and pointed it slowly and carefully at the back of my head.