Part 23 (1/2)

”'It is not for you I fear, Bernard, so much as him.' Tut, tut, that's simple enough,” he declared. ”This woman, whoever she may be, is afraid of a meeting between Sir Geoffrey Kynaston and Mr. Bernard Maddison, to give him his right name, and she remarks that it is for him she fears, and not for Sir Geoffrey. Quite right, too, considering the affectionate tone of these letters.”

”Yes, I suppose that's it,” Mr. Benjamin remarked in an absent tone, folding up the letter, and putting it back amongst the rest.

Mr. Levy watched him narrowly, and returned to his desk with a sense of injury. His son--his Benjamin--had discovered something which he was not going to confide to the parental ear. It was a blow.

He was wondering whether it might have the desired effect if he were to produce a sc.r.a.p of old yellow pocket handkerchief, and affect to be overcome, when they heard a hurried footstep outside. Both looked up anxiously. There was a quick knocking at the door, and a shabby-looking man dressed in black entered.

”Well, Leekson, what news?” Mr. Benjamin asked quickly.

”He's off,” was the prompt reply. ”Continent. Afternoon train. Waterloo, three o'clock.”

Mr. Benjamin's eyes sparkled.

”I knew it!” he exclaimed triumphantly. ”Job's over, Leekson. Get me a cab, and go to the office for your money.”

”You're going to let him go!” cried Mr. Levy piteously.

”Not I. I'm going with him, dad. A fifty-pound note from the safe, quick.”

Mr. Levy gave it to him with trembling fingers.

”Now, dad, listen to me,” Benjamin said earnestly, reaching down his overcoat from the peg. ”Miss Thurwell will be here some time to-day, I'm certain, to try and buy those letters. I've changed my mind about them.

Sell.”

”Sell,” repeated Mr. Levy, surprised. ”I thought that that was what we were not to do.”

”Never mind, never mind. I'm playing a better game than that now,”

continued Mr. Benjamin. ”I'll leave it to you to make the bargain.

There's no one can beat you at that, you know, dad.”

Mr. Levy acknowledged his son's compliment with a gratified smile.

”Well, well, Benjamin, we'll say nothing about that. I'll do my best, you may be sure,” he declared fervently.

”I may as well just mention that I have ascertained how much money she has got,” Mr. Benjamin went on. ”She's worth, until her father dies, about fifteen thousand pounds. We won't be hard on her. Suppose we say five thousand the lowest, eh?”

”All right, Benjamin, all right,” the old man murmured, rubbing his hands softly together. ”Five thousand pounds! My eye! And how long shall you be away?”

”I can't quite tell, dad. Just keep your p.e.c.k.e.r up, and stick to the biz.”

”Yes, Ben, yes. And of course you can't stop to tell me about it now, but won't this five thousand pounds from the young lady about put an end to this little game, eh? And, if so, need you go following this Mr.

Maddison all over the country, eh? An expensive journey, Ben. You've got that fifty-pound note, you know.”

Mr. Benjamin laughed contemptuously.

”You'll never make a pile, you won't, dad,” he exclaimed. ”You're so plaguedly narrow minded. Listen here,” he added, drawing a little closer to him, and looking round over his shoulder to be sure that no one was listening to him. ”When I come back, I'll make you open your eyes. You think this thing played out, do you? Bah! The letters aren't worth twopence to us. When I come back from abroad, I'm going to commence to play this game in a manner that'll rather astonish you, and a certain other person. Ta-ta, guv'nor.”

Mr. Benjamin Levy was a smart young man, but he had a narrow escape that afternoon, for as he was sauntering up and down the platform at Waterloo, whom should he see within a dozen yards of him but Mr.