The conspirators turned up at the office in a hopeful spirit next
morning. Early as the hour was, Gray had evidently been assisting his
courage with some beverage that cheers and yet inebriates.
"Who's going up first?" he asked in a confidential whisper. "I'd sooner
steady my nerves a bit; I'm better in the afternoon."
"Let Polly go, then," said Busby. "I'm a bit shaky myself in the
mornings; must be the train journey."
Parrott, when consulted, did not seem to relish the idea much, and
suggested that they should go together. Union would be strength.
"Perhaps it would be better," agreed Busby.
"Anyhow," said the head clerk, "there's all the day yet. We don't want
to rush it. Let us give him time to get here and settle down to work."
This was agreed upon, and the matter was left until the morning's work
was well under way, when it was taken in hand again.
"Now," said Gray, "this is the best time to begin. He'll be in the
middle of the correspondence, and there's no fear of interruption."
At that moment Master Cacklin slapped a bundle of letters down on
Busby's desk, and set Gray's nerves all on edge again.
"Pardon, sir," he said impudently, "hope I didn't disturb you. S'pose
you've heard the new rule, gents."
"You cut along," said Busby.
"Grand idea," said Cacklin; "every one's got to come up chaperoned by
his grandmother. If he ain't got a grandmother he gets the lady lodger
instead. What do you think of it, eh?"
"Now, clear out," said Gray, threateningly.
"Excepting the guvnor," added Cacklin; "and he brings his aunt. Darling
little bit o' sugar-stuff she is, too, I give yer my word."
And the genial youth affected to put his lower jaw into a position from
which it would not return to the normal.
"What's all that rot?" asked Gray, who scented some truth in the
nonsense.
Mr. Cacklin obligingly informed his hearers that their respected chief
had been accompanied to the office that morning by his aunt, who was
now settled in the biggest armchair upstairs with her hat and jacket
off, as if she meant to stay.
Gray and Busby exchanged glances.
"That settles it, for the present," said Busby, as Cacklin disappeared;
"we can't go while she's there."
"She'll be off after lunch," said Gray. "On the whole I think it's
better to tackle him after lunch."
But Aunt Phoebe did not go after lunch; she returned to the office
with her nephew, and never left it till the two of them departed
together at the close of business.
"It was bad luck," said Gray; "but we'll get him to-morrow safe
enough."
On the morrow, however, fortune was equally unkind to the blackmailers,
for this time Mrs. Early herself accompanied her husband to the office,
and settled comfortably in the big armchair, as her aunt had done on
the previous day. At lunch they went out together and returned
together.
"We must bide our time," Gray said comfortingly to his co-conspirators.
"We'll have him right enough presently."
When, however, the morrow brought Aunt Phoebe again, and lunch-time
saw her return with George Early, Gray could scarcely contain himself
for rage.
"It's a plant," he said fiercely; "a put-up job. He's doing it on
purpose, so as we shan't get him alone."
And there seemed to be some truth in what he said, for whenever George
Early left his office to enter the showrooms, or tour the warehouse,
his aunt always accompanied him. Together they interviewed customers,
inspected the barges at the wharf, pulled stoves about, and went over
the numerous incidents of an ironmonger's day.
Once Gray plucked up courage, and boldly entered the upstairs office.
Aunt Phoebe was seated at George's desk writing, while George himself
lolled in an armchair, reading a paper.
The lady looked up inquiringly as Gray advanced.
"It's a little matter I'd like to see Mr. Early about," he said, with a
cough.
"I think you may tell me," said the lady. "I understand most of Mr.
Early's business."
"You can tell my aunt, Gray," called out George, from behind the paper.
"If I could see Mr. Early alone----"
"Mr. Early has no secrets from his family," said Aunt Phoebe, at
which George coughed and Gray frowned.
After two or three futile attempts to attain his object, Gray was
forced to retire with the feeble excuse of having forgotten something.
Aunt Phoebe looked meaningly at George, who nodded.
The chaperon game continued, and the three men were reduced to such
straits as tracking the cab home to Kensington, and taking turns to
keep watch on the house, all without avail.
Perhaps not entirely without avail, for towards the end of a fortnight
George Early's bright looks gave way to a peevishness he could ill
conceal. Aunt Phoebe's temper was affected too, and frequent
bickerings were reported by those who came in their way. Whenever
Master Cacklin happened to be the person, he gave to those below stairs
a description that was most graphic and inspiring.
"She's wearing him out," said Busby, who clutched at these fragments in
an endeavour to cheer his fellows.
Gray shook his head. "No fear of that," he said; "he's one of those men
that would keep it up just for the pleasure of annoying us. I know
him."
George Early did keep it up, and succeeded in completely outwitting his
trackers, until Gray, tired of waiting for his revenge and a sight of
the firm's money, called a council to discuss some change of plans.
Neither Busby nor Parrott had any suggestion to make, so Gray unfolded
his own idea. Not a bad plan either, the others agreed. Gray proposed
that the three should make a bargain with the lawyers, by which they
were to receive a certain fixed sum, say five hundred pounds, for
information of George Early's lapses from grace. Having got this
promise, they could, if they felt disposed, hold it threateningly over
the chief's head, and demand a higher sum to keep silence. Of course
the lawyers, not having the detective facilities of the three, would
gladly accept their services; of this they felt assured.
It was arranged that Gray should take the next morning off with a bad
cold, and pay a visit to Dibbs and Dubbs, to arrange matters.
This new scheme so occupied the thoughts of the precious trio that they
missed the news of a breezy outburst between George and his beloved
aunt, resulting in the lady bouncing off and leaving her nephew to
himself.
All unconscious of this missed opportunity, Gray made his way the next
morning to St. Paul's Passage, passed the resplendent brass plate of
the lawyers' office, and climbed the dark staircase. The new head of
the firm, who had now sufficient confidence to print his own name of
Dawkins as successor to the departed, received the informer with some
interest, which, being a lawyer, he was not foolish enough to disclose.
"You know my name, I dare say," said Gray, with a cough.
The lawyer coughed in sympathy, and warmed his hands by the fire.
"I remember it well, Mr. Gray. I'm afraid we were a little sharp on you
some time ago, but all a matter of business, you know. Quite a matter
of business. If we can be as energetic on your behalf, we shall be
delighted, my dear sir; delighted, I assure you."
He coughed again, sat down, and looked inquiringly at Gray.
"Of course," said Gray, throwing one hand languidly over the back of
his chair, "I hold a position of some importance at Fairbrothers, as
you doubtless know."
Mr. Dawkins bowed.
"And I am constantly, I may say continually, with the head of the
firm."
Mr. Dawkins bowed again.
"Now, it struck me," said Gray, leaning forward and gazing shrewdly at
the young lawyer, "that I might be of some service to you over this
legacy business. Of service to you and myself at the same time."
Mr. Dawkins raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
"For reasons of my own," he went on, realizing for the first time that
his proposal was a blackguardly one, "I am disposed to assist you
towards the end for which you are working. In this, my two friends, who
enjoyed the legacies at the same time as myself, are willing to help.
The three of us, in fact, to cut the matter short, will work together.
And I can assure you that we shall work in earnest."
At Gray's vehement tones the lawyer stuck a thumb in the armhole of his
waistcoat, and laughed.
"Getting a bit of your own back, eh?"
Gray nodded. "We have exceptional opportunities," he added.
"Opportunities which you, as a man of business, will understand are not
open to the ordinary detective, nor for that matter to an extraordinary
one. One or other of us can be always at his elbow."
"His very shadow, in fact," said the lawyer.
"Exactly," said Gray. "What is more," he added, with a look intended to
convey a volume of sinister meaning, "we know his weaknesses."
The lawyer rose, and adopted a more negligent attitude against the
mantelpiece.
"You offer yourselves to me as amateur detectives, in fact, Mr. Gray;
and purpose informing me of any lapse on the part of Mr. Early
respecting the matter concerned in the late Mr. Fairbrother's will?"
Gray leaned back, and bowed to indicate that Mr. Dawkins had summed up
the matter perfectly.
"And for which," said Mr. Dawkins, "you naturally expect some
recompense."
"That could be arranged," said Gray.
The lawyer toyed playfully with the seal on his watch-chain, and
studied in turn his visitor's hat, coat, and boots.
"Mr. Early has risen considerably in the firm, I believe," he said
presently.
"Yes," said Gray, shortly.
"But you still enjoy his confidence, of course?" Gray nursed his knee
with all the nonchalance he could comfortably affect.
"If anybody has the chance to drop upon an error of judgment on his
part," he said, "I think I know who it is."
Mr. Dawkins smiled. "You have a good deal of confidence, Mr. Gray. Now,
from what I have heard of Mr. George Early, he can, if he is so
disposed, set himself a task, and dare some of the boldest to turn him
from it. When a young man makes up his mind on temperance, and has a
good deal at stake, I'm inclined to think he won't easily run risks."
Gray tapped the crown of his hat impatiently. "He may keep off whisky
for a bit," said he, "but the others are not so easy. Where we come in
promptly is on the borrowing score, and the little departures from
truth. They'll be our first bull's-eyes, Mr. Dawkins."
The lawyer's eyes lit up suddenly. He left the mantelshelf, and sat
down.
"May I ask, Mr. Gray, if you saw Mr. George Early yesterday?"
"I think so," said Gray; "yes, of course, many times."
"But not this morning?"
"Not yet; why?"
"Then you do not know," said the lawyer, in slow, even tones, "that Mr.
Early has already forfeited two of the three legacies. It is now only
the temperance legacy that he holds."
This news almost bereft Gray of speech. He murmured something
unintelligible, and sat staring at the lawyer with open mouth.
"Yes," went on Mr. Dawkins. "Mr. Early threw them over voluntarily, and
already has our notices.
"Of course he does not need the money, and he is doubtless very sure
that the temperance legacy is alone sufficient for his purpose. On the
whole, I must admit, although I am working against him, that it is a
devilishly smart move. I tell you candidly, Mr. Gray, that I think it
an infernally smart move."
Gray roused himself slowly, and got up from the chair.
"As to the temperance business, Mr. Gray," said the lawyer, with a
laugh, "I'm afraid that'll be a hard nut to crack, eh? For my part, I
assure you, I think it pretty tough."
But Gray was not in the mood for further discussion. He drifted out of
the office, and walked unsteadily down the stairs.