Part 24 (2/2)

CHAPTER XX

THE DIAMOND RING

Triffitt considered Carver's report during a moment of mutual silence.

If he had consulted his own personal inclination he would have demanded to be led straight to the taxi-cab driver. But Triffitt knew himself to be the expender of the Markledew money, and the knowledge made him unduly cautious.

”It comes to this,” he said at last, ”this chap knows something which he's already told to this Mr. Tertius. Mr. Tertius has in all probability already told it to the people at New Scotland Yard. They, of course, will use the information at their own time and in their own way. But what we want is something new--something startling--something good!”

”I tell you the fellow's got all that,” said Carver. ”He knows the man whom he drove that morning. Isn't that good enough?”

”Depend upon how I can bring it out,” answered Triffitt. ”Well, when can I see this chap?”

”Tonight--seven o'clock,” replied Carver. ”I fixed that, in antic.i.p.ation.”

”And--where?” demanded Triffitt.

”I'll go with you--it's to be at a pub near Orchard Street,” said Carver. ”Better bring money with you--he'll want cash.”

”All right,” agreed Triffitt. ”But I'm not going to throw coin about recklessly. I shall want value.”

Carver laughed. Triffitt's sudden caution amused him.

”I reckon people have to buy pigs in pokes in dealing with this sort of thing, Triff,” he said. ”But whether the chap's information's good for much or not, I'm certain it's genuine. Well, come round here again at six-thirty.”

Triffitt, banknotes in pocket, went round again at six-thirty, and was duly conducted Oxford Street way by Carver, who eventually led him into a network of small streets, in which the mews and the stable appeared to be conspicuous features, and to the bar-parlour of a somewhat dingy tavern, at that hour little frequented. And at precisely seven o'clock the door of the parlour opened and a face showed itself, recognized Carver, and grinned. Carver beckoned the face into a corner, and having formally introduced his friend Triffitt, suggested liquid refreshment.

The face a.s.sented cordially, and having obscured itself for a moment behind a pint pot, heaved a sigh of gratification, and seemed desirous of entering upon business.

”But it ain't, of course, to go no further--at present,” said the owner of the face. ”Not into no newspapers nor nothing, _at_ present. I don't mind telling you young gents, if it's made worth my while, of course, but as things is, I don't want the old gent in Portman Square to know as how I've let on--d'ye see? Of course, I ain't seen nothing of him never since I called there, and he gave me a couple o' quid, and told me to expect more--only the more's a long time o' coming, and if I do see my way to turning a honest penny by what I knows, why, then, d'ye see----”

”I see, very well,” a.s.sented Triffitt. ”And what might your idea of an honest penny be, now?”

The taxi-cab driver silently regarded his questioner. He had already had a five-pound note out of Carver, who carried a small fund about him in case of emergency; he was speculating on his chances of materially increasing this, and his eyes grew greedy.

”Well, now, guv'nor, what's your own notion of that?” he asked at last.

”I'm a poor chap, you know, and I don't often get a chance o' making a bit in this way. What's it worth--what I can tell, you know--to you?

This here young gentleman was keen enough about it this afternoon, guv'nor.”

”Depends,” answered Triffitt. ”You'd better answer a question or two.

First--you haven't told the old gentleman in Portman Square--Mr.

Tertius--any more than what you told my friend here you'd told him?”

”Not a word more, guv'nor! 'Cause why--I ain't seen him since.”

”And you've told nothing to the police?”

”The police ain't never come a-nigh me, and I ain't been near them. What the old chap said was--wait! And I've waited and ain't heard nothing.”

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