Part 29 (1/2)

What you want will be forthcoming when you've drawn the cheque--take my word for that. But I'm tired of pottering round here.” The goldsmith glanced at his watch. ”I give you two minutes in which to decide. If you can't make up your mind, well, that's your funeral. At the end of that time I double the price of the letters, and if you want them at the new figure then you can come and ask for them.”

He held his watch in his hand, and marked the fleeting moments.

The merchant sat, staring stonily at the table in front of him.

The brief moments soon pa.s.sed; Tresco shut his watch with a click, and returned it to his pocket.

”Now,” he said, taking up his hat, ”I'll wish you good morning.”

He was half-way to the door, when Crookenden cried, ”Stop!” and reached for a pen, which he dipped in the ink.

”He, he!” he sn.i.g.g.e.red, ”it's all right, Tresco--I only wanted to test you. You shall have the money. I can see you're a staunch man such as I can depend on.”

He rose suddenly, and went to the big safe which stood against the wall, and from it he took a cash-box, which he placed on the table.

”Upon consideration,” he said, ”I have decided to pay you in cash--it's far safer for both parties.”

He counted out a number of bank notes, which he handed to the goldsmith.

Tresco put down his hat, put on his spectacles, and counted the money.

”Ten tens are a hundred, ten fives are fifty, ten ones are ten,” he said. ”Perfectly correct.” He put his hand into the inner pocket of his coat, and drew out a packet, which was tied roughly with a piece of coa.r.s.e string. ”And here are the letters,” he added, as he placed them on the table. Then he put the money into his pocket.

Crookenden opened the packet, and glanced at the letters.

Tresco had picked up his hat.

”I am satisfied,” said the merchant. ”Evidently you are a man of resource. But don't forget that in this matter we are dependent upon each other. I rely thoroughly on you, Tresco, thoroughly. Let us forget the little piece of play-acting of a few minutes ago. Let us be friends, I might say comrades.”

”Certainly, sir. I do so with pleasure.”

”But for the future,” continued Crookenden, ”we had better not appear too friendly in public, not for six months or so.”

”Certainly not, not too friendly in public,” Benjamin smiled his blandest, ”not for at least six months. But any communication sent me by post will be sure to find me, unless it is intercepted by some unscrupulous person. For six months, Mr. Crookenden, I bid you adieu.”

The merchant sn.i.g.g.e.red again, and Benjamin walked out of the room.

Then Crookenden rang his bell. To the clerk who answered it, he said:

”You saw that man go out of my office, Mr. Smithers?”

”Yes, sir.”

”If ever he comes again to see me, tell him I'm engaged, or not in. I won't see him--he's a bad stamp of man, a most ungrateful man, a man I should be sorry to have any dealings with, a man who is likely to get into serious trouble before he is done, a man whom I advise all my young men to steer clear of, one of the most unsatisfactory men it has been my misfortune to meet.”

”Yes, sir.”

”That's all, Mr. Smithers,” said the head of the firm. ”I like my young men to be kept from questionable a.s.sociates; I like them to have the benefit of my experience. I shall do my best to preserve them from the evil influence of such persons as the man I have referred to. That will do. You may go, Mr. Smithers.”

Meanwhile, Benjamin Tresco was striding down the street in the direction of his shop; his speed accelerated by a wicked feeling of triumph, and his face beaming with an acute appreciation of the ridiculous scene in which he had played so prominent a part.

”Hi-yi!” he exclaimed exultingly, as he burst into the little room at the back of his shop, where the Prospector was waiting for him, ”the man with whips of money would outwit Benjamin, and the man with the money-bags was forced to sh.e.l.l out. Bill, my most esteemed pal, the rich man would rob the poor, but that poor man was Benjamin, your redoubtable friend Benjamin Tresco, and the man who was dripping with gold got, metaphorically speaking, biffed on the boko. Observe, my esteemed and trusty pal, observe the proceeds of my cunning.”