The Town Traveller Part 21

"How can that be, when he met her twice and talked with her?"

"You didn't tell me that," replied Greenacre, as if surprised.

"No, I didn't mention it. I thought it was enough to tell you she spied him at the theatre."

He added a brief account of what had happened between Polly and her uncle, Greenacre listening as if this threw new light on the case.

"Then the mistake is mine. It's more interesting than ever. This puts me on my mettle, Gammon. Don't lose courage. I have a wonderful scent in this kind of thing. Above all, not a word to anybody--you understand the importance of _that_?"

"That's all right."

"I have a theory--oh, yes, there's a theory. Without a theory nothing can be done. I am working, Gammon, on the scientific principle of induction."

"Oh, are you!"

"Strictly; it has never failed me yet--I can't ay now; appointment at ten-thirty. But you all hear from me in a day or two."

"I say," inquired Gammon, "what's your dress now?"

"Address?--oh, address letters to this place. They'll be all right."

Another fortnight pa.s.sed. It was now early in November; the weather gloomy, and by no means favourable to evening strolls. Gammon wanted much to see both Polly and Mrs. Clover; he had all but made up his mind to write to both of them, yet could not decide on the proper tone in either case. Was he to be humble to Mrs. Clover? Should he beg pardon of Polly? That kind of thing did not come easily to him.

On a day of thin yellow fog he returned about noon from seeing to a piece of business, the result of which he had to report at once to Mr.

Quodling. He entered the clerk's office and asked whether "the governor" was alone.

"No, he ain't," replied a friendly young man. "He's got a lord with him."

"A what?"

"A peer of the realm, sir! I had the honour of taking his luds.h.i.+p's card in--Lord Poll-parrot. Can't say I ever heard of him before."

"What d'you mean? See here, I'm in a hurry; no kid, Simpson."

"Well, it might be Poll-parrot. As a matter of fact, it's Lord Polperro."

Gammon gazed fixedly at the young man.

"Lord Polperro? By jorrocks!"

"Know him, Mr. Gammon?" asked another of the clerks.

"I know his name. All right, I'll wait."

Musing on the remarkable coincidence--which seemed to prove beyond doubt that there still existed some connexion between the family of Quodling and the t.i.tled house which he had heard of from Greenacre--he stood in the entrance pa.s.sage, and looked out for five minutes through the gla.s.s door at the fog-dimmed traffic of Norton Folgate. Then a step sounded behind him. He moved aside and saw a man in a heavy fur-lined overcoat, with a m.u.f.fler loose about his neck; a thin, unhealthy-looking man, with sharp eyes, rather bloodshot, which turned timidly this way and that, and a high-bridged nose. As soon as he caught sight of the face Gammon drew himself up, every muscle strung.

The man observed him, looked again more furtively, stepped past to the door.

It took Gammon but a moment to dart into the clerk's room and ascertain that the person who had just gone out was Lord Polperro. A moment more and he was out in the street. The heavy-coated and m.u.f.flered man was walking quickly southward; he waved his umbrella to a pa.s.sing cab, which, however, did not pull up. Gammon followed for thirty yards.

Again the man hailed a cab, and this time successfully. Just as he was about to step into the vehicle Gammon stood beside him.

"How do you do, Mr. Clover?"

CHAPTER XVII

POLLY SHOWS WEAKNESS

It was spoken with quiet confidence. Gammon smiled as he looked steadily into the pale, thin face, which at once grew mottled with a disturbance of the blood.

"You are making a mistake, sir," replied an indistinct voice, with an effort at dignity.

"Oh, no, not a bit of it. Not now I've heard you speak, Mr. Clover."

"I don't understand you, sir," sounded more clearly, the pallid visage now a muddy red and the eyes moist. "That is not my name. Be so good as to go your way."

"Certainly. I just wanted to make sure, that's all. No fuss. Good morning, Mr. Clover."

Gammon drew back. He heard the order "Charing Cross," and the cab drew away.

After a moment or two of irresolution Gammon walked hurriedly back to the nearest public-house, where he called for a gla.s.s of bitter and the Directory. With the former he slaked a decided dryness of the throat, the latter he searched eagerly in the section "Court." There it was!

"Polperro, Lord, 16, Lowndes Mansions, Sloane Street, S.W. Junior Ramblers' Club. Trefoyle, Liskeard, Cornwall."

By jorrocks!

With thoughts tuned to anything but the oil and colour business he returned to Quodlings' and had his interview with the head of the firm.

Mr. Quodling, senior, was a gruff, heavy-featured man, decidedly of coa.r.s.e fibre; when moved he swore with gusto, and it did not take much to put him out. At present he was in an irritable mood, and, very unlike his habit, gave scant attention to the affair of which Gammon spoke. It would not have improved his temper had he known that the town traveller was amusing himself with the reflection that there was no trace of personal resemblance between him and his brother Francis, who, on the other hand, bore a very strong likeness indeed to--Lord Polperro.

As soon as he could get away Gammon dispatched a telegram. It was to Miss Sparkes, whom he requested to meet him at the theatre door that night when she left. "Something very important to tell you."

This was done on a tell-tale impulse; it showed in what direction his thoughts and mind most readily turned just now. Thinking it over in the hours that followed he doubted whether, after all, he would tell Polly exactly what had happened; she could be useful to him in the way he intended without knowing more than she had discovered for herself.

Doubt as to the ident.i.ty of Lord Polperro with Mrs. Clover's husband he had none whatever--face, voice, trick of lips, and eyebrows made mistake an impossibility; but he must bring the man into a position where there would be no choice but to reveal himself, and, so far as Gammon knew, no one but Polly could help to that end. With Mrs. Clover he would communicate when the facts of the strange story were made plain; not yet a while. And as for Greenacre, why, it was splendid to have got beforehand with that keen-scented fellow. The promise to keep silence held good only whilst their search might be hindered by someone's indiscretion. Now that the search was over he felt himself free to act as he chose.

But what an astounding discovery! Again and again, by jorrocks!

He was near the theatre long before his time. He had never waited so long or so impatiently for anyone since the days of his first sweethearting, twenty and odd years ago. When Polly at length came out she met him with a shyness and awkwardness which he fancied he perfectly understood.

"I want you to come with me where we can have a quiet talk," he said at once in a tone of eager cordiality. "It's too wet for walking; we'll have a cab."

Polly gazed at him in unfeigned surprise, and asked where they were to go. Not far, he replied; here was a cab; in with her. And before she could decide upon resistance Polly was seated by him. Gammon then explained that he had the use of a sitting-room at a coffee tavern; they would be there in a minute or two, There was good news for her--news that couldn't be told in the street or in a crowded restaurant.

"Did you get my letter?" she asked, shrinking as far from him as s.p.a.ce allowed.

"Letter? When?"

"I posted it this morning," Polly answered in a timidly sullen voice.