"Go on, Canlon."
"Well, sir, it seems there was a joke about it. The young lady thought
she was married."
"How was that?"
"I'm not supposed to know, sir. But from what was let on, Benny was
rigged out as a dominie and it made 'em laugh."
The old man ran his head out like a turtle. "Damnation, what has that to
do with it?"
"Why, sir, he pretended to marry her."
"Benny did?"
"Yes, sir."
"He pretended that she was his wife."
"No, sir, he pretended to marry her to Mr. Monty."
"Good God!" the old man muttered and sank back. The blackness was
blacker than any black he had entered. In days gone by, he had agreeably
shocked New York with the splendid uproar of his orgies. He had left
undone those things which he ought to have done and done those things
which he should have avoided. He had been whatever you like--or
dislike--but never had he been dishonest. Little that would avail him
now. If this turpitude were published, it would be said that he had
fathered it. At the prospect, he felt the incubus returning. In a moment
it would have him and, spillingly, he drank the green drug.
The agony receded, but the nightmare confronted him. He grappled with
it.
"The coat I had on at dinner. There is a card-case in the pocket. Give
it to me."
Probably it was all very useless. Probably no matter what he contrived,
the police would ferret her out. There was just one chance though which,
properly taken, might save the situation.
The card-case, pale damask, lined with pale silk, the man brought him.
He put it on the table.
"Canlon!"
"Yes, sir."
"Benny said nothing."
"Very good, sir."
"I have a few hundred for you here, between eight and nine, I think."
"Thank you, sir."
"To-morrow there will be more."
"I am sure I am very grateful, sir."
"Don't interrupt me. Recently my son returned from Cuba. Occasionally he
went visiting. Where he went, he did not tell you. That is all you know.
You know nothing else. You heard nothing. Nobody here heard anything.
Nobody, in this house, knows anything at all. You understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then see to it. The police will come. You must be at the door. You know
now what to say. They will want a word with me. I am too prostrated to
see anybody."
"Thank you, sir."
"Telephone to the Place. Get Benny. Repeat my orders. Say I will do as
well by him as I shall by you."
"Thank you, sir."
"Take the money. You may have the case also."
"I thank you, sir."
"Tell Peters to fetch me some brandy. The 1810. That will do."
Presently, when the police did come and, several hours later, in the
person of Mr. Harvey, came again, they came upon the barriers, invisible
and unscalable, which ignorance, properly paid, can erect. With an empty
bag, Mr. Harvey made off; not far, however, a few squares below to the
Athenaeum Club.
There, the hall-porter succeeded in being magnificent The strange and
early visitor he rebuked. It was not customary for members to be
murdered!
A badge, carelessly disclosed, disconcerted him. For a second only.
However unusual a member might be, no information could be supplied
concerning him. There was another rule, equally strict. Strangers were
not admitted. Though, whether the rule applied to a bull, he was
uncertain. Momentarily, the hall-porter, previously magnificent, became
an unhappy man. Misery is fertile. A compromise surprised him.
He crooked a thumb. "Here! Go 'round by the back way and ask for Mr.
Johnson--he's one of the captains."
From the steps, in the slanting rays of the morning sun, he saw him off.
But the gaiety of the eager rays that charged the air with little gold
motes, did not cheer him. The lustre of his office was tarnished. A
member had been murdered! It was most unusual.
Meanwhile, down the area steps, a hostile and hasty youth in
shirt-sleeves and a slashed waistcoat barred the way. The barring was
brief. The badge and a smile demolished it. Within, beneath a low
ceiling, at a long table, other youths, equally slashed but less
hostile, were at breakfast.
Affably, the intruder raised a hand. "Gentlemen, don't let me disturb
you. I'm just having a look-in on Mr. Johnson."
Mr. Johnson did not breakfast with slashed young men; it would have been
subversive to discipline, and it was negligently, through a lateral
entrance, that presently he appeared. In evening clothes on this early
morning, he surveyed his visitor, a big fellow with a slight moustache,
an easy way and a missing front tooth, who went straight at it.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Johnson. My name's Harvey. It's about young
Paliser. There may be something in it for you. I'm from Headquarters."
The captain coughed. "It's awful. I can't tell you anything though. He
wasn't here often. Doubt if I've seen him in a week." He looked about.
The slashed youths were edging up. "Come in here."
In an adjoining room, he took a chair, waved politely at another,
coughed again and resumed. "You say there may be something in it for
me?"