Part 26 (1/2)

”Have a care!” he said, hoa.r.s.ely. ”That expression will cost you dear!”

Collins smiled contemptuously.

”Oh,” he retorted; ”so it's blackmail! I might have known from your appearance. Well, my dear sir, you have mistaken your men. You have nothing which we care to buy. You would better go.”

A purple vein stood out across Tellier's forehead, as he came a step nearer.

”Do not be too sure, monsieur,” he said. ”You play a bold game, but it does not for an instant deceive me. Lord Vernon is no more ill than I.

It is useless to deny it--I have that here which proves it--written with his own hand--yes, pardie, written in my presence!” and with trembling fingers he took from his pocketbook a folded slip of paper.

”Indeed?” said Collins, with mild curiosity. ”This is truly wonderful,”

and he held out his hand.

But Tellier drew back a step, unfolded the note and held it open between his fingers.

”You may read it,” he said, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng with triumph. ”But come no nearer.”

Collins leisurely got out his monocle, polished it with his handkerchief, adjusted it, and scanned the note.

”Really,” he said, ”unless you can hold it a little steadier, I fear I can't read it.”

Tellier steadied his hand by a mighty effort, and watched him, his eyes s.h.i.+ning. But the face of the Englishman did not change--not in a single line, not by the merest shadow.

”Very interesting, no doubt,” said Collins, dropping his gla.s.s, ”to those who care for backstairs intrigue. Is it this note that you wish to sell?”

”Oh, not that,” corrected Tellier, with a little offended gesture, his self-a.s.surance back in an instant. ”You mistake me--I am not of that sort at all. On the other hand, it is friends.h.i.+p for you which has brought me here. I have no wish to injure you, monsieur, and you yourself, of course, perceive fully what a disaster it would be should this note be placed in certain hands.”

”To what adventure does the note refer?” queried Collins.

”It refers to the adventure of Lord Vernon with the two Americans on the afternoon of his arrival. He has, no doubt, mentioned it to you.”

”Lord Vernon has had no adventure since his arrival here,” retorted Collins, coldly. ”But go ahead with your story.”

”As I was saying,” continued Tellier, ”I am a poor man. I have my future to consider--I cannot afford to throw away this opportunity which chance has placed in my hands. I will be reasonable, however--I will not ask too much--a hundred thousand francs--”

”Tellier,” Collins interrupted, with a gesture of weariness, ”I have not the least idea what you mean. But I do know that you have been hoaxed, that you are the victim of some deception, that somebody is making a fool of you. A hundred thousand francs! And for that note! Why, man, you are mad or very, very drunk! We don't want the note. We have no concern in it!”

”No concern in it!” shrieked Tellier. ”When it is written by Lord Vernon!”

”Lord Vernon did not write it,” retorted Collins, coolly.

”I saw it--with my own eyes I saw it!”

”Then your eyes deceived you. Evidently you are not acquainted with Lord Vernon's writing, my friend. Shall I show you a sample? Wait.”

He went to a desk, got out a despatch-box, unlocked it, and ran rapidly through its contents, while Tellier watched him with bloodshot eyes.

”This will do,” Collins said, at last. ”A note to Monsieur Delca.s.se, with which you are perhaps familiar, since it has recently been made public. Look at it.”