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24 chapters
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER I
The Marchioness of Amesbury was giving a garden party in the spacious but somewhat urban grounds of her mansion in Kensington. Perhaps because it was the first affair of its sort of the season, and perhaps, also, because Cecilia Amesbury had the knack of making friends in every walk of life, it was remarkably well attended. Two stockbrokers, Roger Kendrick and his friend Maurice White, who had escaped from the City a little earlier than usual, and had shared a taxicab up west, congratulated them
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CHAPTER II
CHAPTER II
Josephine Dredlinton, with a smile which gave to her face a singularly sweet expression, deprecated the disturbance which her coming had caused amongst the little company. The four men had risen to their feet. Kendrick was holding a chair for her. She apparently knew every one intimately except Wingate, and Sarah hastened to present him. "Mr. Wingate—the Countess of Dredlinton," she said. "Mr. Wingate has just arrived from New York, Josephine, and he wants to know which are the newest plays wort
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CHAPTER III
CHAPTER III
There was a little flutter of excitement in the offices of Messrs. Kendrick, Stone, Morgan and Company when, at a few minutes after eleven the following morning, Wingate descended from a taxicab, pushed open the swing doors of the large general office and enquired for Mr. Kendrick. Without a moment's delay he was shown into Roger Kendrick's private room, but the little thrill caused by his entrance did not at once pass away. It was like the visit of a general to Divisional Headquarters. Action o
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CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
Wingate made his way from the City to Shaftesbury Avenue, where he entered a block of offices, studied the direction board on the wall for a few minutes, and finally took the lift to the fourth floor. Exactly opposite to him across the uncarpeted corridor was a door from which half the varnish had peeled off, on which was painted in white letters—MR. ANDREW SLATE. A knock on the panel resulted in an immediate invitation to enter. Wingate turned the handle, entered and closed the door behind him.
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CHAPTER V
CHAPTER V
Josephine received her altogether unexpected visitor that afternoon with a certain amount of trepidation, mingled with considerable distaste. Mr. Peter Phipps' manner, however, went far towards disarming resentment. He was suave, restrained and exceedingly apologetic. "If I have taken a liberty in coming to see you, Lady Dredlinton, without a direct invitation, I am going to apologise right away," he said. "I don't get much of an opportunity of a chat with you while the others are all around, an
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CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VI
Dredlinton House, before which Wingate presented himself punctually at eight o'clock that evening, had a sombre, almost a deserted appearance. The great bell which he pealed seemed to ring through empty spaces. His footsteps echoed strangely in the lofty white stone hall as he followed the butler into a small anteroom, from which, however, he was rescued a few minutes later by Josephine's maid. "Her ladyship will be glad if you will come to the boudoir," she invited. "Dinner is to be served ther
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CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VII
"I fear" the newcomer remarked, as he softly closed the door behind him, "that I am an intruder. Perhaps, Josephine, I may be favoured with an introduction to this gentleman? He is a stranger to me, so far as I remember. An old friend of yours, I presume?" He advanced a step or two farther into the room, a slim, effeminate-looking person of barely medium height, dressed with the utmost care, of apparently no more than middle age but with crow's-feet about his eyes and sagging pockets of flesh un
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CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER VIII
Wingate returned to his rooms at the Milan about eleven o'clock that evening, to find Roger Kendrick, Maurice White and the Honourable Jimmy Wilshaw stretched out in his most comfortable chairs, drinking whiskies and sodas and smoking cigarettes. "Welcome!" he exclaimed, smiling upon them from the threshold. "Are you all here? Is there any one I forgot to invite?" "The man's tone is inhospitable," the Honourable Jimmy murmured, showing no inclination to rise. "I decline to apologise," Kendrick s
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CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER IX
Wingate from the first had a prescience of disagreeable things. There was malice in Dredlinton's pallid face, the ugly twist of his lips and the light in his bloodshot eyes. He paused opposite to them, and leaning his hands on the back of the nearest chair, spoke across the table. "Hullo, Flossie!" he exclaimed. "How are you, old dear? How are you, Wingate?" Wingate replied with cold civility, Flossie with a careless nod. "I do hope," she whispered to her companion, glancing into the mirror whic
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CHAPTER X
CHAPTER X
Andrew Slate, a very personable man in his spring clothes of grey tweed, took up his hat and prepared to depart. Half-past twelve had just struck by Wingate's clock, and the two men had been together since ten. "You're a wonderful person, Wingate," Slate said, with a note of genuine admiration in his tone. "I don't believe there's another man breathing who would have had the courage to plan a coup like this." Wingate shrugged his shoulders. "The men who dig deep into life," he replied, as he sho
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CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XI
"My dears," Lady Amesbury said, as she stood surrounded by her guests on the hearth rug of her drawing-room, "you know what my Sunday night dinner parties are—all sorts and plenty of them, and never a dull man or a plain woman if I can help it. To-night I've got a new man. He's not much to look at, but they tell me he's a multimillionaire and making all the poor people of the country miserable. He's doing something about making bread dearer. I never did understand these things." "Heavens, you do
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CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XII
"Throw your coat down anywhere, Miss Baldwin," Wingate invited, as he ushered that young lady into his rooms soon after eleven o'clock on the following evening. "Now what can I give you? There are some sandwiches here—ham and pâté-de-foie-gras, I think. Whisky and soda or some hock?" "A pâté sandwich and some plain soda water, please," Sarah replied, taking off the long motoring coat which concealed her evening clothes. "I have been fined for everything except disorderly driving—daren't risk tha
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CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIII
Peter Phipps, sitting in his private office, might have served as the very prototype of a genial, shrewd and successful business man. The apartment was plainly and handsomely furnished. Although, only a few yards away, was a private exchange and an operator who controlled many private wires, a single telephone only stood upon his desk. The documents which cumbered it were arranged in methodical little heaps. His manager stood by his side, with a long slip of paper in his hand. The two men had be
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CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XIV
Phipps received his visitor with a genial smile and outstretched hand. "Delighted to see you, Mr. Wingate," he said heartily. "Take a chair, please. I do not know whether you smoke in the mornings, but these Cabanas," he added, opening the box, "are extraordinarily mild and I think quite pleasant." Wingate refused both the chair and the cigars and appeared not to notice the outstretched hand. "You will forgive my reminding you, Mr. Phipps," he remarked drily, "that my visit this morning is not o
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CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XV
Dredlinton sank into Phipps' vacated chair and leaned back with his hands in his trousers pockets. He had the air of a man fortified by a certain amount of bravado,—stimulated by some evil purpose. "So you don't want to sell those shares, Mr. Wingate?" "I have decided not to," was the calm reply. "Any particular reason?" "None," Wingate acknowledged, "except that I am not very anxious to have any business relations with Mr. Phipps." "And for the sake of that prejudice," Dredlinton observed, "you
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CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVI
Roger Kendrick was in and disengaged when Wingate called upon him, a few minutes later. He welcomed his visitor cordially. "That was a pretty good list you gave me the other day, Wingate," he remarked, "You've made money. You're making it still." "Good!" Wingate commented, with a nod of satisfaction. "I dare say I shall need it all. Close up everything, Kendrick." "The devil! One or two of your things are going strong, you know." "Take profits and close up," Wingate directed. "I've another commi
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CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVII
Wingate, after several strenuous hours spent in Slate's office, returned to his rooms late that night, to find Peter Phipps awaiting him. There was something vaguely threatening about the bulky figure of the man standing gloomily upon the hearth rug, all the spurious good nature gone from his face, his brows knitted, his cheeks hanging a little and unusually pale. Wingate paused on the threshold of the room and his hand crept into his pocket. Phipps seemed to notice the gesture and shook his hea
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CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XVIII
"Another strange face," Sarah remarked, looking after the butler who had just brought in the coffee. "I thought you were one of those women, Josephine, who always kept their servants." "I do, as a rule," was the quiet reply, "only sometimes Henry intervenes. If there is one thing that the modern servant dislikes, it is sarcasm, and sarcasm is Henry's favourite weapon when he wants to be really disagreeable. Generally speaking, I think a servant would rather be sworn at." "You seem to have made a
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CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XIX
Lord Dredlinton's impatience was almost feverish. One would have imagined that Stanley Rees had been one of his dearest friends, instead of a young man whom he rather disliked. "Come in. Inspector," he invited. "Come in. Glad to see you. Any news?" "None whatever, my lord," was the laconic reply. Dredlinton's face fell. He looked at his visitor, speechless for a moment. The inspector gravely saluted Josephine and accepted the chair to which she waved him. "Upon my word," Dredlinton declared, "th
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CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XX
Josephine was herself again within a few moments of her husband's departure. She stood perfectly still for some time, as though listening to his departing footsteps. Then she crossed the room and pressed the bell twice. Once more she listened. The change in her expression was wonderful. She was expectant, eager, thrilled with the contemplation of some imminent happening. Her vigil came suddenly to an end, as the door was opened and closed again a little abruptly. It was no servant who had obeyed
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CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXI
In the Board room of the British and Imperial Granaries, Limited, were four vacant chairs and four unoccupied desks, each of the latter piled with a mass of letters. Outside was disquietude, in the street almost a riot. Callers were compelled to form themselves into a queue,—and left with scanty comfort. Wingate, by what seemed to be special favour, was passed through the little throng and ushered by Harrison himself into the deserted Board room. "So you have no news of any of your directors, Ha
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CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXII
Wingate, notwithstanding his iron nerve, awoke with a start, in the grey of the following morning, to find his heart pounding against his ribs and a chill sense of horror stealing into his brain. Nothing had happened or was happening except that one cry,—the low, awful cry of a man in agony. He sat up, switched on the electric light by his side and gazed at the round table, his fingers clenched around the butt of his pistol. Dredlinton, from whom had come the sound, had fallen with his head and
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CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIII
The inspector blinked for a moment. The appearance of the room, with its closely drawn curtains and air of dissipation, was certainly strange. Wingate advanced to meet him. "You called to see Lord Dredlinton, I believe, Inspector," he began. "My name is Wingate. I am friend of the family." "I understood that Lord Dredlinton was here," the inspector announced, looking around. "I am sorry to say," Wingate informed him gravely, "that a very terrible thing has happened. Lord Dredlinton died suddenly
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CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXIV
Peter Phipps and his nephew dined together on the last night of the year at a well-chosen table at Giro's restaurant in Monte Carlo. There were long-necked and gold-foiled bottles upon the table and a menu which had commanded the respect of the maître d'hôtel whose province it was to supply their wants. Nevertheless, neither of the two men had the appearance of being entirely satisfied with life. "Those figures from the Official Receiver," Phipps remarked, as he filled his glass with wine and pa
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