Part 23 (1/2)
”Now, Miss Strong, if you are wise, you'll go home and go to bed. You may do as you like about attempting to follow me, but I promise you, I shall not permit you to dog my footsteps one moment longer than it suits my convenience. On that point you need be under no misapprehension.”
The detective strode away. Miss Strong was about to follow, when Miss Wentworth caught her by the arm.
”Now, Daisy, be reasonable--you'll do no good by persisting--let's go home.”
”Loose my arm.”
Miss Wentworth loosed it.
In less than a minute Daisy had decreased the distance between Ireland and herself to half a dozen feet. Franklyn and Miss Wentworth came after, splas.h.i.+ng through the mud and the mist, somewhat disconsolately, a few paces in the rear.
The cavalcade had gone, perhaps, fifty yards, when a figure, das.h.i.+ng out of an entry they were pa.s.sing, caught Ireland by the lapel of his sleeve.
”Guv'nor! I want to speak to you!”
The figure was that of a man--an undersized, half-grown, very shabby-looking man. The light was not bad enough to conceal so much.
The collar of a ragged, dirty coat was turned up high about his neck, and an ancient billyc.o.c.k was crammed down upon his head. Stopping, Ireland turned and looked at him.
”You want to speak to me?”
”Yes, Mr. Ireland; don't yer know me?”
”Know you?” Suddenly Ireland's arm went out straight from the shoulder, and the stranger, as if he had been a rat, was gripped tightly by the neck. ”Yes, Bill Cooper, I do know you. I've been looking for you some time. There's something which I rather wish to say to you. Now, what's your little game?”
The man's voice became a whine; the change was almost excusable when one considers how uncomfortable he must have been in the detective's grasp. Daisy, who was standing within a yard, could hear distinctly every word that was uttered.
”Don't be nasty, Mr. Ireland, that ain't like you! I know you want me--that's all right--but if you take me without hearing what I've got to say you'll be sorry all the same.”
”Sorry, shall I? How do you make that out?”
”Why, because I'll make your fortune for you if you'll give me half a chance--leastways, I daresay it's made already, but I'll double it for you, anyhow.”
”And pray how do you propose to do that?”
”Why, I'll put you on to the biggest thing that ever you were put on to.”
”You mean that you'll round on your comrades. I see. Is that it?”
The stranger did not seem to altogether like the fas.h.i.+on in which Mr.
Ireland summed up his intentions.
”You may call it what you please, but if I hadn't been used bad first of all myself, I wouldn't have said a word; red-hot irons wouldn't have made me. But when a chap's been used like I've been used, he feels like giving of a bit of it back again; that's fair enough, ain't it?”
”Chuck the patter, Bill. Go on with what you have to say.”
”Look here, Mr. Ireland, you give me ten thick 'uns, enough to take me to 'Merriker; I'll go there, and I'll put you on to them as had something to do with them there d.u.c.h.ess of Datchet's diamonds what's been and got theirselves mislaid.”
It was Daisy who answered. She seemed to speak in sudden and uncontrollable excitement. ”I don't know what ten thick 'uns are, but if you do what you say I'll give you fifty pounds out of my own pocket.”