LONG JOHN.
Rowton nodded to one or two, and then going straight to the other end of
the room, where a man was seated by a desk, bent down over him.
“Here I am,” he said; “you have sent for me. I am in a great hurry, as I
want to take an early train back to Pitstow. What’s up, Piper? Why did
you require me to come in such a hurry?”
The man addressed as Piper raised himself slowly and fixed two steady,
luminous grey eyes on the speaker. He had an extraordinary face, with
a certain marked power about it. The lips were very hard, but the eyes
were tender as those of a woman. The face itself was long and extremely
narrow—the brow high, with scanty hair which receded far from the
temples; it was perfectly clean shaven, and was emaciated as well as long
and thin. Even as the man looked full at Rowton, a hectic colour came and
went on his cheeks. He was small and slenderly built, and why he went by
the name of Long John would have puzzled a stranger to account for. At a
first glance one would have taken him for an insignificant and somewhat
effeminate person; but a second, revealing the pathos and beauty of the
eyes, would not have failed to arrest attention, and a third glance from
an observer of human nature, would have revealed the fact that the man
possessed a strange and powerful personality.
“Now that you have come, you must listen to our business,” said Long
John. “We have waited for five weeks to consult your pleasure—there is a
good deal now to attend to. Are you there, Scrivener?”
“Yes,” said Scrivener, answering to his name.
Piper rose from his seat by the desk where he was carefully making notes,
lifted a flap, slipped the notes under it, locked the desk and came
forward into the centre of the room.
“Now, gentlemen,” he said, “now that Silver has come back, there is
nothing to prevent our beginning the business of the evening.”
“No, nothing,” said several voices. “Right glad to see you again, Silver.”
Several signs then passed between the parties; certain instructions were
read aloud by Long John, and commented upon in a terse, quick, eager
voice by Scrivener. Two or three of the men fell to whispering, and one,
who had seated himself close to Rowton, bent forward and said in a tone
of almost affection:
“I feel comfortable and safe, now that you are going to be at the helm
again.”
All this time Rowton was silent. Not that he lost a single word of
what was going on—he was acquainted with all the ciphers—he knew the
mysterious allusions. A sort of jargon was spoken which was not Greek to
him. Still, he never opened his lips, although, after a time, he noticed
that Long John constantly raised his lustrous eyes and fixed them on his
face.
Suddenly that individual turned round and addressed him.
“Marrying at the time you did,” he said, “you put us all to the height
of inconvenience. We lost that business in Spain by which we hoped to
have secured enormous profits. You are a strong man, you give weight and
solidity to all we do, and we cannot dispense with you. You were aware
of the fact when you made that audacious demand for five weeks off duty.
You have now returned to duty, and I presume will work extra hard for the
privilege we have accorded you.”
“Thanks,” said Rowton. “I belong to you, and I shall, of course, do my
best for the interests of the business.”
“That’s right,” said Long John after a pause. “The fact is, you have come
back in the nick of time—that affair in Spain can, I find, be re-opened.
Bonds to the tune of £20,000 are to be conveyed from Madrid to Paris by
train on the night of the 20th. Spider will meet you in Madrid. How soon
can you go there?”
Rowton started and looked troubled.
“Before I make any promises,” he said after a pause, “I wish to say
something on another matter.”
“What is that?”
“I wish to ask a favour.”
“A favour, Silver,” said Scrivener. “You seem great at that sort of thing
lately.”
“This matter is of much importance to me, Piper,” said Rowton, fixing his
bold eyes on the meagre face of the other man. “I want the headquarters
of our school to be removed from Rowton Heights.”
This demand was evidently most unexpected. The different men looked at
each other with blank faces. Scrivener shook his head, leapt forward and
whispered something in the ears of the man known by the name of Long John.
“It is quite impossible, Silver, and the matter cannot be further
discussed,” said Piper in an incisive voice, which sounded like the
snapping of steel.
His eyes changed their character as he spoke. They no longer looked
gentle and pathetic; rays of light, cruel as hell itself, seemed to leap
from their depths.
“Impossible,” he said; “not to be discussed. The place is absolutely
convenient—above suspicion, and therefore invaluable. So no more. Your
request is unequivocally refused.”
“I must bow to the inevitable,” said Rowton, slightly bending his head.
“Your marriage came at a most inconvenient time,” proceeded Piper; “but
now that you are married and have elected to live at Rowton Heights, we
all see our way to doing magnificent business. In your position as one of
the wealthiest and most influential men of your county, you can give us
information which will be more than useful. I will speak to you a while
on that point. Meanwhile it is my wish that Scrivener should go and live
at Pitstow. There is a village there, is there not?”
“A small town,” said Scrivener; “a healthy, bracing place. I need change
of air.”
The other men laughed. Rowton remained pale and silent.
“It would be particularly disagreeable to me to have Scrivener in the
neighbourhood,” he said after a pause.
“He may be useful,” said Piper. “He is to take lodgings at Pitstow next
week. Now that affair is settled for the present. How soon can you start
for Spain?”
“When must I go?”
“If you have arrangements to make at home we can give you until Monday to
make your plans.”
“Thanks,” said Rowton. He rose as he spoke.
“You will come here again on Monday night?”
“I will.”
“Then come with me now into this inner room. I have something to say with
regard to your duties as landlord and country gentleman.”
A queer expression crept over Rowton’s face; the healthy colour went out
of it; it grew grey and deathlike in hue. He followed his strange host
without a word.