Part 18 (1/2)

”You aren't talking like yourself--you have never been like yourself since you've taken this line.”

Jones felt himself changing colour. In his excitement he had let his voice run away with him.

”It doesn't matter a b.u.t.ton whether I'm like myself or not,” said he, ”you've got to write that note, and do it now while I dictate.”

Voles drummed on the desk with his fingers, then he took a sheet of paper and an envelope from a drawer.

”Well,” said he, ”what is it to be?”

”Nothing alarming,” said the other. ”Just three words. 'It's all up'--how do you address him?”

Without reply Voles wrote.

”Dear M.

”It's all up.”

”That'll do,” said Jones, ”now sign your name and address the envelope.”

Voles did so.

Jones put the letter in his pocket.

”Well,” said he, ”that ends the business. I hope, with this, and what I have to say to him, Marcus will part, and as I say, if things turn out as I hope, maybe I'll right your losses--I have no quarrel with you--only Marcus.”

Suddenly Voles spoke.

”For G.o.d's sake,” said he, ”mind how you deal with that chap; he's never been got the better of, curse him. Go cautiously.”

”You never fear,” said Jones.

CHAPTER XV

THE ATTACK (Continued)

Jones had already obtained Marcus Mulhausen's address from the invaluable Kelly.

Mulhausen was a financier. A financier is a man who makes money without a trade or profession, and Mulhausen had made a great deal of money, despite this limitation, during his twenty years of business life, which had started humbly enough behind the counter of a p.a.w.nbroker's in the Minories.

His offices were situated in Chancery Lane. They consisted of three rooms: an outer waiting room, a room inhabited by three clerks, that is to say a senior clerk, Mr. Aaronson, and two subordinates, and an inner room where Mulhausen dwelt.

Jones, on giving his name, was shown at once into the inner room where Mulhausen was seated at his desk.

Mulhausen was a man of sixty or so, small, fragile looking, with grey side whiskers and drowsy heavy-lidded eyes.

He nodded to Jones and indicated a chair. Then he finished his work, the reading of a letter, placed it under an agate paper weight, and turned to the newcomer.

”What can I do for you this morning?” asked Mulhausen.