Part 37 (1/2)

”Then you might go to the Caledonian Hotel and see a man called Sanders. I'll give you his room number, so you needn't bother them at the office. Go straight up in the elevator and ask if he has any message for me; then you can come back to the garage, where we'll be waiting.”

”He doesn't know me, but perhaps that won't matter?”

”I don't suppose so; the thing's not important,” Staffer answered carelessly. ”However, since you mention it, if he should hesitate, you can show him this.”

He gave d.i.c.k a handsome silver cigarette-case, engraved with a rather unusual pattern round the crest.

”Be back in half an hour,” he said.

It was a fine morning with bright suns.h.i.+ne and a keen east wind, and d.i.c.k walked along carelessly, looking at the shops. At one he bought some gloves for Mrs. Woodhouse, and at another some delicate, quilled chrysanthemums caught his eye. He bought a larger bunch than he could conveniently hold, imagining that they might please Elsie, and farther on he purchased an enameled locket.

With a box of gloves sticking awkwardly out of his pocket, and a wrapped-up jewel case dangling by a loop from a finger of the hand with which he clutched the great bunch of chrysanthemums, d.i.c.k entered the hotel. None of the pages or porters asked him what he wanted when he strode through the entrance hall; for his twinkling smile and easy manner banished suspicion. There were very few people who ever distrusted d.i.c.k. Staffer had chosen his messenger well.

d.i.c.k found Sanders reading a letter in his room, and thought the fellow had been surprised when he entered unannounced. The paper in his hand was crumpled, as if he had meant to put it out of sight, but he turned to d.i.c.k with a quiet movement. His face was expressionless, but his glance was very keen.

”Perhaps I ought to apologize for breaking in on you like this,” d.i.c.k said.

”It's not quite usual,” Sanders replied. ”The general custom is to send in a card.”

”Well, I was told to go straight up; and as I was thinking of something else, I'm afraid I forgot to knock.”

”I'm afraid you did,” returned Sanders. ”Who told you to come up?”

”Staffer. I understand you have a message for him. We're just starting home.”

”Ah!” Sanders' voice was quiet, but d.i.c.k imagined that he felt some surprise. ”You will excuse my remarking that, as a rule, one likes to know something about a messenger.”

”Of course; I forgot.” d.i.c.k took out the cigarette-case. ”Staffer is my step-father, and he said you'd know this.”

”Then you're Mr. Johnstone of Appleyard?”

d.i.c.k nodded and felt that he was being quietly studied. It was obvious that Sanders knew something about him.

”How long have you been in Edinburgh?” he asked, and looked thoughtful when d.i.c.k told him.

”Well, I have no message for Mr. Staffer. As a matter of fact, I was expecting some news from him, and have not received it. You might tell him so.”

”I see; you can't reply to a message you didn't get. But I'll send him round when I reach the garage, if you like--and there's the telephone.”

”You seem to understand the situation,” Sanders smiled. ”I won't trouble Mr. Staffer, as it is not important. Will you come down and smoke a cigarette?”

”No, thanks. Staffer's waiting,” d.i.c.k said.

Sanders picked up the cigarette-case, which he had left on the table.

”This is Mr. Staffer's, and perhaps you had better return it as soon as you see him. The thing is valuable.”

d.i.c.k left the hotel, but took out the case and examined it as he walked back up the street. It was heavily gilded inside, and he thought the engraving round the small gold crest remarkably good. The case was beautifully made, and must have been expensive; but he suspected that this did not altogether account for Sanders' warning him to take care of it. d.i.c.k's face grew thoughtful as he remembered the crumpled letter, which the man had not had time to thrust into his pocket. Then, it was strange that he had been unwilling to use the telephone; and, when one came to think of it, Staffer could have avoided some delay by ringing him up. Moreover, Elsie had told him that he might be made use of in Edinburgh.

As he remembered this, d.i.c.k smiled. After all, he was not so simple as he looked, and people who misunderstood his character sometimes suffered for their mistake. His mind was occupied as he went on to the garage, where he found the car waiting at the door with Williamson inside. They had not brought Watson, and when d.i.c.k appeared Staffer started the engine.