Part 44 (2/2)
”There's not much to tell, sir.”
”How are you and the coachman coming on?”
”We'll not be very intimate after to-night, I'm thinking.”
”How is that?” questioned the attorney, at the same time smiling broadly at his companions.
”Well, sir, there'll be no call for it, for one thing, as I've got all the points in the case I wanted; and for another, his chief returned this evening, and, from the few words I overheard upon his arrival, I don't think the coachman will feel over-confidential the next time he sees me,” and McCabe smiled grimly to himself.
”So Merrick is back!” interposed Mr. Sutherland, laughing. ”Did you and he meet?”
”Meet, sir? Ah, no, not much o' that! I heard a step coming up the stairs, and as I thought the room was hardly big enough for three, I excused myself to Mr. Jim Matheson--alias Matthews, the coachman--and made for the hall. We pa.s.sed each other at the head of the stairs, and I cluttered down, making as much racket as I could; then at the foot of the stairs I took off my boots and crept upstairs again, more to hear the fellow's voice than anything else, so I could recognize him afterwards.”
”What did you hear?” inquired Mr. Barton, as McCabe paused to light a cigar which Mr. Sutherland had handed him.
”I heard him say, 'Who was that I pa.s.sed outside, Jim?' 'Only a cross-country friend of mine,' says Jim. 'What friends are you entertaining here in these quarters?' says he, kind o' sharp like.
'An' sure,' says Jim, 'it was only Dan McCoy, the clerk of the big London lawyer who has come over with the young Mr. Mainwaring I've heard you speak of, and a right clever fellow he is, too!' 'Clerk!'
he roars out, 'clerk, you blithering idiot! he's no more clerk than you are coachman, nor half so much, for you're fit for nothing but to take care of horses all your days! Do you want to know,'
says he, 'who you've been entertaining?' That's no more nor less than Dan McCabe, a Scotland Yard man they've brought over, n.o.body knows what for, but whatever his game, he's made you play into his hand! I didn't stay to hear more,” McCabe concluded, ”I got out.”
”But how does this Merrick know you?” Mr. Barton inquired, as the laughter caused by McCabe's recital subsided.
”He doesn't know me, he only knows of me,” the man replied. ”I found that out an hour or two later, when I met him in a crowd at the Wellington Hotel;” the speaker glanced curiously in the direction of Harold Mainwaring for an instant, and then continued, ”I knew him by his voice, but I spoke with him, and he had no idea who I was.”
”But how has he heard of you?” persisted Mr. Barton.
”There was an American detective--a friend of his--who came over on the 'Campania' on the same trip with Mr. Mainwaring. He was following up a case in London, but he managed to keep his eye on Mr. Mainwaring and kept this Merrick posted of all that he was doing.
It was because of some remarks of his that I got wind of, that I determined from the first to get onto his game.”
”Well, Mac,” said Mr. Barton, tentatively, ”are you ready to go to work now?”
The keen eyes flashed for an instant in the attorney's face, then the man answered quietly, ”If you've nothing to tell me, I'm ready to go to work on my own hook and in my own way; if you've anything to say, I'll hear it.”
Mr. Barton glanced at the others. ”We had better tell McCabe what we have learned, and also just what our plans are.”
The others bowed in a.s.sent, and the chairs were drawn closer together while Mr. Barton, in low tones, told, as briefly and clearly as possible, the discovery which they had made. McCabe listened to the attorney's story, but whether or not the secret were already guessed by him, his face gave no sign. When it was ended he glanced curiously at Harold Mainwaring.
”Mrs. LaGrange told you this?”
”She did.”
”At what time, if you please, sir?”
”At about half-past five.”
”Are you aware, sir, that, with the exception of her maid, you are probably the last person who saw Mrs. LaGrange living?”
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