THE STRANGER.
A few weeks after Langhetti’s visit Potts had a new visitor at the bank.
The stranger entered the bank parlor noiselessly, and stood quietly
waiting for Potts to be disengaged. That worthy was making some entries
in a small memorandum-book. Turning his head, he saw the newcomer. Potts
looked surprised, and the stranger said, in a peculiar voice, somewhat
gruff and hesitating,
“Mr. Potts?”
“Yes,” said Potts, looking hard at his visitor.
He was a man of singular aspect. His hair was long, parted in the
middle, and straight. He wore dark colored spectacles. A thick, black
beard ran under his chin. His linen was not over-clean, and he wore a
long surtout coat.
“I belong to the firm of Bigelow, Higginson, & Co., Solicitors,
London.--I am the Co.”
“Well!”
“The business about which I have come is one of some importance. Are we
secure from interruption?”
“Yes,” said Potts, “as much as I care about being. I don’t know any
thing in particular that I care about locking the doors for.”
“Well, you know best,” said the stranger. “The business upon which I
have come concerns you somewhat, but your son principally.”
Potts started, and looked with eager inquiry at the stranger.
“It is such a serious case,” said the latter, “that my seniors thought,
before taking any steps in the matter, it would be best to consult you
privately.”
“Well,” returned Potts, with a frown, “what is this wonderful case?”
“Forgery,” said the stranger.
Potts started to his feet with a ghastly face, and stood speechless for
some time.
“Do you know who you’re talking to?” said he, at last.
“John Potts, of Brandon Hall, I presume,” said the stranger, coolly. “My
business concerns him somewhat, but his son still more.”
“What the devil do you mean?” growled Potts, in a savage tone.
“Forgery,” said the stranger. “It is an English word, I believe.
Forgery, in which your son was chief agent. Have I made myself
understood?”
Potts looked at him again, and then slowly went to the door, locked it,
and put the key in his pocket.
“That’s right,” said the stranger, quietly.
“You appear to take things easy,” rejoined Potts, angrily; “but let me
tell you, if you come to bully me you’ve got into the wrong shop.”
“You appear somewhat heated. You must be calm, or else we can not get to
business; and in that case I shall have to leave.”
“I don’t see how that would be any affliction,” said Potts, with a
sneer.
“That’s because you don’t understand my position, or the state of the
present business. For if I leave it will be the signal for a number of
interested parties to make a combined attack on you.”
“An attack?”
“Yes.”
“Who is there?” said Potts, defiantly.
“Giovanni Cavallo, for one; my seniors, Messrs. Bigelow & Higginson, and
several others.
“Never heard of any of them before.”
“Perhaps not. But if you write to Smithers & Co. they will tell you
that Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. are their solicitors, and do their
confidential business.”
“Smithers & Co.?” said Potts, aghast.
“Yes. It would not be for your interest for Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. to
show Smithers & Co. the proofs which they have against you, would it?”
Potts was silent. An expression of consternation came over his face. He
plunged his hands deep in his pockets and bowed his head frowningly.
“It is all bosh,” said he, at last, raising his head. “Let them show and
be d---d. What have they got to show?”
“I will answer your question regularly,” said the stranger, “in
accordance with my instructions”--and, drawing a pocket-book from his
pocket, he began to read from some memoranda written there.
“1st. The notes to which the name of Ralph Brandon is attached, 150 in
number, amounting to £93,500.”
“Pooh!” said Potts.
“These forgeries were known to several besides your son and yourself,
and one of these men will testify against you. Others who know Brandon’s
signature swear that this lacks an important point of distinction common
to all the Brandon signatures handed down from father to son. You were
foolish to leave these notes afloat. They have all been bought up on a
speculation by those who wished to make the Brandon property a little
dearer.”
“I don’t think they’ll make a fortune out of the speculation,” said
Potts, who was stifling with rage. “D--n them! who are they?”
“Well, there are several witnesses who are men of such character that if
my seniors sent them to Smithers & Co. Smithers & Co. would believe that
you were guilty. In a court of law you would have no better chance. One
of these witnesses says he can prove that your true name is Briggs.”
At this Potts bounded from his chair and stepped forward with a terrific
oath.
“You see, your son’s neck is in very considerable danger.”
“Yours is in greater,” said Potts, with menacing eyes.
“Not at all. Even supposing that you were absurd enough to offer
violence to an humble subordinate like me, it would not interfere with
the policy of Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co., who are determined to
make money out of this transaction. So you see it’s absurd to talk of
violence.”
The stranger took no further notice of Potts, but looked again at
his memoranda; while the latter, whose face was now terrific from the
furious passions which it exhibited, stood like a wild beast in a cage,
“willing to wound, but yet afraid to strike.”
“The next case,” said the stranger, “is the Thornton forgery.”
“Thornton!” exclaimed Potts, with greater agitation.
“Yes,” said the stranger. “In connection with the Despard murder there
were two sets of forgeries; one being the Thornton correspondence, and
the other your correspondence with the Bank of Good Hope.”
“Heavens! what’s all this?” cried Potts. “Where have you been unearthing
this rubbish?”
“First,” said the stranger, without noticing Potts’s exclamation, “there
are the letters to Thornton, Senior, twenty years ago, in which an
attempt was made to obtain Colonel Despard’s money for yourself. One
Clark, an accomplice of yours, presented the letter. The forgery was
at once detected. Clark might have escaped, but he made an effort at
burglary, was caught, and condemned to transportation. He had been
already out once before, and this time received a new brand in addition
to the old ones.”
Potts did not say a word, but sat stupefied.
“Thornton, Junior, is connected with us, and his testimony is valuable,
as he was the one who detected the forgery. He also was the one who went
to the Cape of Good Hope, where he had the pleasure of meeting with you.
This brings me to the third case,” continued the stranger.
“Letters were sent to the Cape of Good Hope, ordering money to be paid
to John Potts. Thornton, Senior, fearing from the first attempt that
a similar one would be made at the Cape, where the deceased had funds,
sent his son there. Young Thornton reached the place just before you
did, and would have arrested you, but the proof was not sufficient.”
“Aha!” cried Potts, grasping at this--“not sufficient proof! I should
think not.” His voice was husky and his manner nervous.
“I said ‘was not’--but Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. have informed
me that there are parties now in communication with them who can prove
how, when, where, and by whom the forgeries were executed.”
“It’s a d----d infernal lie!” roared Potts, in a fresh burst of anger.
“I only repeat what they state. The man has already written out a
statement in full, and is only waiting for my return to sign it before
a magistrate. This will be a death-warrant for your son; for Messrs.
Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. will have him arrested at once. You are aware
that he has no chance of escape. The amount is too enormous, and the
proof is too strong.”
“Proof!” cried Potts, desperately; “who would believe any thing against
a man like me, John Potts--a man of the county?”
“English law is no respecter of persons,” said the stranger. “Rank goes
for nothing. But if it did make class distinctions, the witnesses about
these documents are of great influence. There is Thornton of Holby,
and Colonel Henry Despard at the Cape of Good Hope, with whom Messrs.
Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. have had correspondence. There are also
others.”
“It’s all a lie!” exclaimed Potts, in a voice which was a little
tremulous. “Who is this fool who has been making out papers?”
“His name is Philips; true name Lawton. He tells a very extraordinary
story; very extraordinary indeed.”
The stranger’s peculiar voice was now intensified in its odd, harsh
intonations. The effect on Potts was overwhelming. For a moment he was
unable to speak.
“Philips!” he gasped, at length.
“Yes. You sent him on business to Smithers & Co. He has not yet
returned. He does not intend to, for he was found out by Messrs.
Bigelow, Higginson, & Co., and you know how timid he is. They have
succeeded in extracting the truth from him. As I am in a hurry, and you,
too, must be busy,” continued the stranger, with unchanged accents, “I
will now come to the point. These forged papers involve an amount to the
extent of--Brandon forgeries, £93,500; Thornton papers, £5000; Bank of
Good Hope, £4000; being in all £102,500. Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, &
Co. have instructed me to say that they will sell these papers to you
at their face without charging interest. They will hand them over to you
and you can destroy them, in which case, of course, the charge must be
dropped.”
“Philips!” cried Potts. “I’ll have that devil’s blood!”
“That would be murder,” said the stranger, with a peculiar emphasis.
His tone stung Potts to the quick.
“You appear to take me for a born fool,” he cried, striding up and down.
“Not at all. I am only an agent carrying out the instructions of
others.”
Potts suddenly stopped in his walk.
“Have you all those papers about you?” he hissed.
“All.”
Potts looked all around. The door was locked. They were alone. The
stranger easily read his thought.
“No use,” said he, calmly. “Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. would
miss me if any thing happened. Besides, I may as well tell you that I am
armed.”
The stranger rose up and faced Potts, while, from behind his dark
spectacles, his eyes seemed to glow like fire. Potts retreated with a
curse.
“Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. instructed me to say that if I am not
back with the money by to-morrow night, they will at once begin action,
and have your son arrested. They will also inform Smithers & Co., to
whom they say you are indebted for over £600,000. So that Smithers & Co.
will at once come down upon you for payment.”
“Do Smithers & Co. know any thing about this?” asked Potts, in a voice
of intense anxiety.
“They do business with you the same as ever, do they not?”
“Yes.”
“How do you suppose they can know it?”
“They would never believe it”
“They would believe any statement made by Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson,
& Co. My seniors have been on your track for a long time, and have come
into connection with various parties. One man who is an Italian they
consider important. They authorize me to state to you that this man can
also prove the forgeries.”
“Who?” grasped Potts.
“His name is Cigole.”
“Cigole!”
“Yes.”
“D--- him!”
“You may damn him, but that won’t silence him,” remarked the other,
mildly.
“Well, what are you going to do?” growled Potts.
“Present you the offer of Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co.,” said the
other, with calm pertinacity. “Upon it depend your fortune and your
son’s life.”
“How long are you going to wait?”
“Till evening. I leave to-night. Perhaps you would like to think this
over. I’ll give you till three o’clock. If you decide to accept, all
well; if not, I go back.”
The stranger rose, and Potts unlocked the door for him.
After he left Potts sat down, buried in his own reflections. In about an
hour Clark came in.
“Well, Johnnie!” said he, “what’s up? You look down--any trouble?”
At this Potts told Clark the story of the recent interview. Clark looked
grave, and shook his head several times.
“Bad! bad! bad!” said he, slowly, when Potts had ended. “You’re in a
tight place, lad, and I don’t see what you’ve got to do but to knock
under.”
A long silence followed.
“When did that chap say he would leave?”
“To-night.”
Another silence.
“I suppose,” said Clark, “we can find out how he goes?”
“I suppose so,” returned Potts, gloomily.
“Somebody might go with him or follow him,” said Clark, darkly.
Potts looked at him. The two exchanged glances of intelligence.
“You see, you pay your money, and get your papers back. It would be
foolish to let this man get away with so much money. One hundred and two
thousand five hundred isn’t to be picked up every day. Let us pick it up
this time, or try to. I can drop down to the inn this evening, and
see the cut of the man. I don’t like what he said about me. I call it
backbiting.”
“You take a proper view of the matter,” said Potts. “He’s dangerous.
He’ll be down on you next. What I don’t like about him is his
cold-bloodedness.”
“It does come hard.”
“Well, we’ll arrange it that way, shall we?”
“Yes, you pay over, and get your documents, and I’ll try my hand at
getting the money back. I’ve done harder things than that in my time and
so have you--hey, lad!”
“I remember a few.”
“I wonder if this man knows any of them.”
“No,” said Potts, confidently. “He would have said something.”
“Don’t be too sure. The fact is, I’ve been troubled ever since that girl
came out so strong on us. What are you going to do with her?”
“Don’t know,” growled Potts. “Keep her still somehow.”
“Give her to me.”
“What’ll you do with her?” asked Potts, in surprise.
“Take her as my wife,” said Clark, with a grin. “I think I’ll follow
your example and set up housekeeping. The girl’s plucky; and I’d like to
take her down.”
“We’ll do it; and the sooner the better. You don’t want a minister, do
you?”
“Well, I think I’ll have it done up ship-shape, marriage in high life;
papers all full of it; lovely appearance of the bride--ha, ha, ha!
I’ll save you all further trouble about her--a husband is better than
a father in such a case. If that Italian comes round it’ll be his last
round.”
Some further conversation followed, in which Clark kept making perpetual
references to his bride. The idea had taken hold of his mind completely.
At one o’clock Potts went to the inn, where he found the agent. He
handed over the money in silence. The agent gave him the documents.
Potts looked at them all carefully.
Then he departed.