Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

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      "Nor out of this room?"

      "No, sir."

      "Ah! Is that so-is that so? You have your office coat on, and your office slippers. Had you not better change them?"

      "I was going to do so, sir," said Abel Death. Mr. Boyd's keen eyes were upon him while he made the change. "May I hope, sir, that you will grant the request you kindly promised to consider? It may be a matter of life or death, it may indeed. It means so much to me-so much! I humbly beg you, sir, to grant it."

      "Let me see. You asked me for a loan."

      "A small loan, sir, of ten pounds. I have trouble and sickness at home, I am sorry to say."

      "It is inconceivable," said Mr. Boyd coldly, "that a man in regular employment should need a loan unless it is for the gratification of some unwarrantable extravagance. Your wages are paid regularly, I believe."

      "Yes, sir. I don't complain, but it is not an easy task to keep a wife and family on twenty-two shillings a week. I don't know how it is," said Abel Death, rubbing his forehead as though he were endeavouring to rub some problem out of it, or some better understanding of a social difficulty into it, "but when Saturday comes round we have never a sixpence left."

      "Very likely. It is the old story of improvidence. Thrift, Abel, thrift. That is the lesson the poor have to learn, and never will learn."

      "Ten pounds, sir, only ten pounds," implored Abel Death.

      "Only ten pounds!" exclaimed Mr. Boyd. "Listen to him. He calls ten pounds a small sum. Why, it is to millions of men a fortune!"

      "It is truly that to me, sir."

      "And if I lend it to you," said Mr. Boyd, with a sneering smile, "you will call down heaven's blessing upon me, you will remember me in your prayers?"

      "Yes, sir, yes," replied Abel Death confusedly.

      "There is the question of security, Abel."

      "I am a poor man, sir, but I will do anything you wish. I will give you a bill-I will sign any paper you write out-I will pay you any interest you like to charge. You can deduct five shillings from my wages every week till the debt is cancelled. I shall be eternally grateful to you, sir." His agitation was so great that he could not proceed.

      "Gratitude is no security," said Mr. Boyd, still with the sneering smile on his lips. "Prayers and heaven's blessing are no security. No business man would lend a shilling on them. They are not Property. You remarked a moment ago that I had never found you unfaithful. I will put it to the test. Let me see the slippers you have taken off."

      "My slippers, sir!" stammered Abel Death.

      "Your slippers. I wish to see them." Puzzled by the singular request, and with inward misgivings, Abel Death lifted the slippers from the floor. "Lay them on the table before me, soles upward."

      Ruefully wondering what connection there could possibly be between his frayed and worn slippers and the question of unfaithfulness which Mr. Boyd had raised, he obeyed the order. His wonder increased when Mr. Boyd proceeded to examine the soles through a magnifying glass.

      "That will do," said Mr. Boyd, leaning back in his chair. "You can pack them up with your office coat, and take them home with you."

      "But I shall want them to-morrow, sir."

      "Not in my office, Abel Death. I discharge you."

      "Sir!"

      "I discharge you. Here are your wages for a half week. You can claim no more. The conditions of your engagement with me were that in the event of the slightest violation of my orders you were to be immediately discharged without further notice."

      "In what way have I violated your orders, sir?" cried Abel Death, despairingly. "Good heavens! This will be the ruin of me!"

      "You have brought it on yourself. It is an ungrateful world, Abel, an ungrateful world. Robbery on all sides of us, treachery whichever way we turn. Do not send to me for a character; it will not assist you to obtain another situation." Abel Death gazed at the hard taskmaster in speechless consternation. "I have suspected you for some time past, Abel-I beg your pardon, you were about to speak."

      "I was not."

      "You were. Come, come-be honest, Abel, be honest. It is the best policy. I have found it so."

      "It was in my mind to say, sir," said Abel Death, in a shaking voice, "that you suspect everybody."

      "It is the only way to protect oneself from being robbed. Keep this axiom before you; it is as good as capital, and will return you good interest. Suspecting you as I have done I laid a trap for you this afternoon-a simple, artless trap. Observe this thin piece of brown paper, observe this little piece of wax which I place upon it. Any person treading on it will carry away with him on the sole of his shoe both the paper and the wax. Do you follow me?"

      "Yes, sir," said Abel Death, staring at the paper and moving his tongue over his dry lips.

      "Before leaving the house this afternoon," continued Mr. Boyd, "I deposited on the stairs eight very small pieces of this paper, each with a very small piece of wax on the top of it, and placed them on those parts of the stairs which a person coming up or going down would be most likely to tread. Is this quite clear to you?"

      "Quite clear, sir."

      "It is a singular thing, Abel, that upon the soles of your slippers I do not see one of those pieces of paper or any trace of wax."

      "It proves, sir," interposed Abel Death eagerly, "that I spoke the truth when I declared that I had not left the room during your absence, and that I did not go down the stairs."

      "But it does not prove, you dog, that no person came up the stairs during my absence!" Abel Death fell back, confounded. "Upon my return a few minutes ago I examined the stairs, and found only two of the eight pieces of paper I deposited there so carefully-so very carefully! Six pieces of the eight I placed there had affixed themselves to the soles of the shoes or boots worn by the person who entered this room while I was away. I asked you if any one had called. You answered no. It was a lie, a deliberate lie, a lie not to be explained away."

      "If you will listen to me, sir," said Abel Death, reduced to a state of abject fear, "I think it can be explained away."

      "I am listening, Abel Death."

      "I made a mistake, sir-I confess it."

      "Oh, a mistake, and by such a clever man as you are!"

      "I am not clever, sir-far from it. Every man is liable to error. A person has been in this room, but I did not open the door to him. He opened it himself."

      "What!" cried Mr. Boyd, starting from his chair in mingled anger and alarm.

      "Yes, sir, he opened it himself. How could I help that, sir-I ask you, how could I help that?"

      A few moments elapsed before Mr. Boyd spoke; and during the silence he took a revolver from a drawer, which he unlocked for the purpose. Then he said slowly, "Who was the man?"

      "Your son, sir, Mr. Reginald."

      "My son! He was forbidden the house!"

      "I СКАЧАТЬ