The same night Teddy France started on his quest, wishing with all his
heart that it were cleaner work. Still a beginning had to be made. He had
not the flimsiest clue to direct him, but the thought occurred to him
that it might be worth while to attempt to learn in what manner Bullard
spent some of his evenings. Bullard, he was aware, had of late been
living at Bright's Hotel, a select and expensive establishment situated
within hail of Bond Street.
About eight o'clock Teddy sauntered across the lounge of Bright's, as
though looking for a friend, and glanced through the glass doors of the
dining-room. To his satisfaction, he saw the man he wanted, seated at a
table, alone, and not in his customary evening dress. Teddy retired, left
the hotel, and at the opposite pavement engaged a taxicab. He got inside,
after instructing the man to be on the alert. He lit a cigarette, telling
himself that, by a thousand to one, he had embarked on a futile, idiotic
errand. However, within half-an-hour, Bullard appeared in the hotel
doorway, and spoke to a braided personage who promptly whistled for a
cab. By the time he was on board, the motor of Teddy's cab was running,
the chauffeur in his seat. Presently the two cabs rolled away from their
respective pavements.
Five minutes later Teddy let out a grunt of disgust. Bullard was
evidently making for the City, presumably for his office. "Drop it!" said
common sense; "go on!" said instinct ... and Teddy went on.
It was nearing nine o'clock when Bullard's cab drew up at the magnificent
entrance to Manchester House in New Broad Street, at that hour a
well-nigh deserted thoroughfare. As Teddy was driven past he saw Bullard
run up the steps. Twenty yards further on he got out, settled with his
man, and strolled back. Entering the huge headquarters of several hundred
mining and finance companies, and noting that the lift was closed for the
night, he proceeded to search the oaken boards which formed a sort of
directory of the tenants inscribed in gilt lettering. He learned that
Bullard's office was on the fourth of the nine floors; at the same time
he memorised the name of a firm on the fifth floor. Then he ascended
leisurely. Care-takers and cleaners were about, but apparently they had
finished their tasks above the fourth floor. He spoke to one of them, an
elderly man.
"Can you tell me if Mr. Stern of Stern & Lynoch has returned?"
"No, sir. I've just left their office on the fifth floor. Nobody there."
Teddy consulted his watch. "I'm a little before my time; guess I'd better
go up and wait."
The man nodded as one who didn't care whether the enquirer died or lived,
and went about his business.
There was an indifferent light left on the fifth landing and the stair
leading to it. Teddy found a point of vantage whence through the wire
walls of the shaft he could obtain a view, not of Bullard's office
itself, but of the corridor leading thereto. On the way up he had noted
that the Aasvogel Syndicate's door was just round the corner and that it
was the only one showing a light.
Calling himself a fool for his pains, he settled down to the wretched
game of spying. He had not long to wait--much to his combined
astonishment and gratification. "This must be my lucky night," he
reflected. A man appeared on the landing--a foreign-looking person with a
heavy dark moustache under an oddly shaped nose, wearing eyeglasses, and
carrying a suit case--and made for the corridor. Ere he turned the corner
he cast an anxious glance over his shoulder, which glance was more
cheering to Teddy than a pint of champagne would have been just then. And
next moment the gentle opening and closing of a door further delighted
and excited him. Without a doubt the man had gone into Bullard's office!
Within the minute Teddy was again calling himself names. Ass! Was
there anything even mildly extraordinary in the visitor or the visit?
After a while he decided that he could not lose much if he transferred
his espionage to the outside of Manchester House. Fortunately it was a
fine night, for, as it came to pass, he had nearly two hours to kick
his heels.
Then the Aasvogel's visitor came forth alone, and in haste, and turned in
the direction of Liverpool Street. Shortly afterwards he boarded a King's
Cross bus, mounting to the top. Teddy took a seat inside, still calling
himself names, yet unable to abandon the absurd chase.
At King's Cross the man, along with a dozen passengers, got out and made
for the main-line station. Teddy followed at a discreet distance till
within the booking hall, when he put on speed and contrived to be close
to his quarry as the latter stopped at a ticket window--first class--to
Teddy's amaze. He heard him book "return Glasgow."
Now the Glasgow portion of this particular night train, usually an
exceedingly long one, is next to the engine. Perhaps that is why the
Great Northern Company has kindly placed a little refreshment saloon
towards the extremity of the platform. The traveller, after a glance at
the train, entered the saloon. The weary sleuth resisted the desire for a
drink and proceeded to stroll up and down the Glasgow portion. Five
minutes before the train was due to start the traveller reappeared wiping
his mouth, and got into a vacant compartment. He placed his suit case on
a seat and went out into the corridor.
"Well," Teddy said to himself, "that jolly well ends it. The old
story--suspect a Johnny because he doesn't look a handsome gentleman!
Serves me right!" All the same, he lingered, a few paces from the
carriage. Four minutes passed and the traveller was still absent. Thirty
seconds left ... fifteen ... five ... the starting signal ... the first,
almost imperceptible movement of the prodigious train.
Just then the traveller reappeared in the compartment, picked up the suit
case, sat down and opened at. But--Teddy sprang forward open-mouthed--it
wasn't the same man! The train was gathering speed. Teddy ran alongside
and stared in. The traveller glanced over his shoulder, just as that man
had done on the office landing, then turned away. But again Teddy had
caught a glimpse of a profile including an oddly shaped nose. Why, good
Lord! it _was_ the same man--only the beggar had lost his eyeglasses and
moustache! ... Our sleuth had made a discovery, indeed, but how on earth
was it going to profit him? Disregarding expense--no new failing on his
part, to be sure--he took a cab back to Manchester House.
The Aasvogel office was in darkness. The surmise might easily be wrong,
Teddy admitted to himself, yet it did look confoundedly as though
Bullard had returned to the City that night with the particular object
of meeting the quick-change gentleman now on his way to Glasgow. At all
events the affair was interesting enough to spoil another night's rest
for Teddy France.
Two mornings later Bullard received the following brief note, which was
undated and unsigned, in an envelope postmarked Glasgow:
"No one on premises at night. Probably tomorrow night."
Bullard informed the chief clerk and telephoned to Lancaster that he was
leaving for Paris by the night train. Apparently he reached there safely,
for next morning the office received a telegram relating to some company
business, not, perhaps, of the first importance, handed in at the Gare du
Nord office and signed Bullard. And Teddy, calling at the Lancasters'
house in the evening, just to obtain a glimpse of his beloved, who alas!
was with a dinner and theatre party, learned from Mr. Lancaster, who was
always glad to see the young man, that Mr. Bullard had run over to Paris.
Which was naturally rather astounding news to Teddy, whose own eyes had
seen Mr. Bullard enter the Glasgow sleeping car at Euston, about
twenty-four hours earlier.