The Man Who Lost Himself Part 9

He went to the bureau and took a sheet of note paper, which he laid before the other.

"Write," said he. "I will dictate. Begin June 2nd."

Voles put the date.

"'My Lord,'" went on the dictator. "'This is to promise you that to-morrow morning I will hand to the messenger you send to me all the papers of yours in my possession. I confess to having held those papers over you for the purpose of blackmail, and of having obtained from you the sum of eight thousand pounds, and I promise to amend my ways, and to endeavour to lead an honest life.

Signed. A. S. VOLES.'"

To The Earl of Rochester.

That was the letter.

Three times the rogue at the table refused to go on writing, and three times his master went to the door, the rattle of the door handle always inspiring the scribe to renewed energy.

When the thing was finished Jones read it over, blotted it, and put it in his pocket with the cheque.

"Now you can go," said he. "I will send a man to-morrow morning at eight o'clock to your home for the papers. I will not use this letter against you, unless you give trouble--Well, what do you want?"

"Brandy," gasped Voles. "For G.o.d's sake some brandy."

CHAPTER IX

MORE INTRUDERS

The little gla.s.s that had held the _fin champagne_ stood on the table, the door was shut, Voles was gone, and the incident was ended.

Jones, for the first time in his life, felt the faintness that comes after supreme exertion. He could never have imagined that a thing like that would have so upset him. He was unconscious during the whole of the business that he was putting out more energy than ordinary, he knew it now as he contemplated the magnitude of his victory, sitting exhausted in the big saddle-bag chair on the left of the fire place and facing the door.

He had crushed the greatest rogue in London, taken from him eight thousand pounds of ill gotten money, and freed himself of an incubus that would have made his position untenable.

Rochester could have done just the same, had he possessed daring, and energy, and courage enough. He hadn't, and there was an end of it.

At this moment a knock came to the door, and a flunkey--a new one--appeared.

"Dinner is served, my Lord."

Jones sat up in his chair.

"Dinner," said he. "I'm not ready for it yet. Fetch me a whisky and soda--look here, tell Mr. Church I want to see him."

"Yes, my Lord."

Jones, as stated before, possessed that very rare att.i.tude--an eye for men. It was quite unknown to him; up to this he had been condemned to take men as he found them; the pressure of circ.u.mstances alone had made him a business partner with Aaron Stringer. He had never trusted Stringer. Now, being in a position of command, he began to use this precious gift, and he selected Church for a first officer. He wanted a henchman.

The whisky and soda arrived, and, almost immediately on it, Church.

Jones, placing the half empty gla.s.s on the table, nodded to him.

"Come in," said he, "and shut the door."

Church closed the door and stood at attention. This admirable man's face was constructed not with a view to the easy interpretation of emotions.

I doubt if an earthquake in Carlton House Terrace and the vicinity could have altered the expression of it.

He stood as if listening.

Jones began: "I want you to go to-morrow at eight o'clock to No. 12B Jermyn Street to get some doc.u.ments for me. They will be handed to you by A. S. Voles."

"Yes, my Lord."

"You will bring them back to me here."

"Yes, my Lord."

"I have just seen the gentleman, and I've just dealt with him. He is a very great rogue and I had to call an officer--a constable in. I settled him."

Mr. Church opened his mouth as though he were going to speak. Then he shut it again.

"Go on," said Jones. "What were you going to say?"

"Well, your Lords.h.i.+p, I was going to say that I am very glad to hear that. When you told me four months ago, in confidence, what Voles was having out of you, you will remember what advice I gave your Lords.h.i.+p.

'Don't be squeezed,' I said. 'Squeeze him.' Your Lords.h.i.+p's solicitor, Mr. Mortimer Collins, I believe, told you the same."

"I have taken your advice. I find it so good that I am going to ask your advice often again--Do you see any difference in me, Mr. Church?"

"Yes, my Lord, you have changed. If your Lords.h.i.+p will excuse me for saying so."

"How?"

"You have grown younger, my Lord, and more yourself, and you speak different--sharper, so to say."

These words were Balm of Gilead to Jones. He had received no opinion of himself from others till now; he had vaguely mistrusted his voice, unable to estimate in how much it differed from Rochester's. The perfectly frank declaration of Church put his mind at rest. He spoke sharper--that was all.

"Well," said he. "Things are going to be different all round; better too."

He turned away towards the bureau, and Church opened the door.

"You don't want me any longer, my Lord?"

"Not just now."

He opened Kelly's directory, and looked up the solicitors, till he came to the name he wanted.

Mortimer Collins, 10, Sergeant's Inn, Fleet Street.

"That's my man," said he to himself, "and to-morrow I will see him." He closed the book and left the room.