Part 17 (1/2)
”There I met a man whom I had seen two or three times during the last three days, a great seven-foot American with arms like a gorilla, a thing called 'Boss Mulligan,' whom I had gathered from the conversation of my Chinese friends, had now arrived to take charge of the whole city--a sort of head policeman and guard.
”'Sonny,' he said, 'I've had a 'phone down from the top in regard to you. Now don't you be a short sport. You've been made a good offer. You grip it and be like fat in lavender. My advice to you is to wind a smile round your neck and depart with the dollars. I can see you're full of pep and now you've got fortune before you. See that pavilion over there?'
”He pointed to where a little gaudily painted house nestled under one of the great feet of the first tower.
”'That's my mansion. You wander about for an hour or so and come there and say you agree to the boss's terms--we'll take your word for it. Upon the word ”Yes,” I'll hand you out at the gate and you can go to Paris for a trip.'
”'I'll think it over,' I said.
”'Do so, and don't be a life-everlasting, twenty-four-hours-a-day, dyed-in-the-wool d.a.m.n fool.'
”It was getting dusk. I was in a new part of the inclosed park. He let me go without any watchful Chinese attendant at my heels, and I strolled off with my head bent down as if deep in thought.
”I'd got an hour, and I think I made the best use of it. I hurried along under the shadow of the towers, past shrubberies, artificial lakes, summer-houses and little inclosed rose-gardens until I was far away from Mr. Mulligan. Here and there I pa.s.sed a patient Chinese gardener or some hurrying member of Morse's little army. But n.o.body stopped me or interfered with me. For the first time since my captivity I was perfectly free.
”To cut a long story short, Sir Thomas, I came to a rectangle in the great encircling wall, which at that point was thirty feet high. The parapet at the top was obviously being repaired, for there was a ladder right up, pails of mortar, bricklayers' tools, and a coil of rope for binding scaffolding. I nipped up the ladder, carrying the rope after me, fixed it at the top, slid down easily enough, and in a quarter of an hour was in Richmond station. I didn't dare to go back to my old rooms because I was sure there would be a secret hue and cry after me. I thought of my old friend, Mr. Sliddim, traveled to Whitechapel with my last pence, and here I am.”
”Still a member of my staff?”
”If you please, Sir Thomas.”
”Ready for anything?”
”Anything and everything.”
”Then come with me to Piccadilly--if they look for you there again we shall be prepared.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I have to tell of a brief interlude before I got to work in earnest.
The very day after the rediscovery of Rolston I fell ill. The strain had been too much, a severe nervous attack was the result, and my vet.
ordered me to the quietest watering-place in Brittany that I could find.
I protested, but in vain. The big man told me what would happen if I didn't go, so I went, _faute-de-mieux_, and took Rolston with me.
I acquainted Arthur Winstanley and Pat Moore of my movements by letter, and I engaged the seedy Mr. Sliddim to abide permanently in Richmond and to forward me a full report of all he observed, and of all rumors, connected with the City in the Clouds. When I had subscribed to a press-cutting agency to send me everything that appeared in print relating to Gideon Morse and his fantastic home, I felt I had done everything possible until I should be restored to health.
Of my month in Pont Aven I shall say nothing save that I lived on fine Breton fare, walked ten miles a day, left Rolston--who proved the most interesting and stimulating companion a man could have--to answer all my letters, and went to bed at nine o'clock at night.
Heartache, fear for Juanita, occasional fits of fury at my own inaction and impotence? Yes, all these were with me at times. But I crushed them down, forced myself to think as little as possible of her, in order that when once restored to health and full command of my nerves, I might begin the campaign I had planned. You must picture me therefore, one afternoon at the end of October, arriving from Paris by the five o'clock train, dispatching Rolston to Piccadilly with the luggage, and driving myself to Captain Moore's quarters at Knightsbridge Barracks.
I had summoned a meeting of our league, which we had so fancifully named ”Santa Hermandad”--a fact that was to have future consequences which none of us ever dreamed of--by telegram from Paris.
Pat and Arthur were awaiting me in the former's comfortable sitting-room. A warm fire burned on the hearth as we sat down to tea and anchovy toast.
I had been in more or less frequent communication with both of them during my sick leave, and when we began to discuss the situation we dispensed with preliminaries.