Bones in London. Edgar Wallace

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СКАЧАТЬ thoughtfully.

       Providence was working overtime for him, he thought.

      "Of anybody's money," said Fred stoutly. "I don't care where you go, my dear chap. Ask Cole—he's the biggest shipping lawyer in this city—ask my brother, who, I suppose, is the greatest shipping authority in the world, or—what's the use of asking 'em?—ask yourself. If you're not Saul Tibbetts all over again, if you haven't the instinct and the eye and the brain of a shipowner—why, I'm a Dutchman! That's what I am—a Dutchman!"

      He picked up his hat and his lips were pressed tight—a gesture and a grimace which stood for grim conviction.

      "What are they worth to-day?" asked Bones, after a pause.

      "What are they worth to-day?" Mr. Fred frowned heavily at the ceiling. "Now, what are they worth to-day? I forget how much I've spent on 'em—they're in dock now."

      Bones tightened his lips, too.

      "They're in dock now?" he said. He scratched his nose. "Dear old Fred

       Pole," he said, "you're a jolly old soul. By Jove that's not bad!

       'Pole' an' 'soul' rhyme—did you notice it?"

      Fred had noticed it.

      "It's rum," said Bones, shaking his head, "it is rum how things get about. How did you know, old fellow-citizen, that I was going in for shippin'?"

      Mr. Fred Pole did not know that Bones was going in for shipping, but he smiled.

      "There are few things that happen in the City that I don't know," he admitted modestly.

      "The Tibbetts Line," said Bones firmly, "will fly a house-flag of purple and green diagonally—that is, from corner to corner. There will be a yellow anchor in a blue wreath in one corner and a capital T in a red wreath in the other."

      "Original, distinctly original," said Fred in wondering admiration.

       "Wherever did you get that idea?"

      "I get ideas," confessed Bones, blushing, "some times in the night, sometimes in the day. The fleet"—Bones liked the sound of the word and repeated it—"the fleet will consist of the Augustus, the Sanders—a dear old friend of mine living at Hindhead—the Patricia—another dear old friend of mine living at Hindhead, too—in fact, in the same house. To tell you the truth, dear old Fred Pole, she's married to the other ship. And there'll be the Hamilton, another precious old soul, a very, very, very, very dear friend of mine who's comin' home shortly——"

      "Well, what shall we say, Mr. Tibbetts?" said Fred, who had an early luncheon appointment. "Would you care to buy the two boats at the same price we gave your uncle for them?"

      Bones rang his bell.

      "I'm a business man, dear old Fred," said he soberly. "There's no time like the present, and I'll fix the matter—now!"

      He said "now" with a ferociousness which was intended to emphasize his hard and inflexible business character.

      Fred came into the private office of Pole & Pole after lunch that day, and there was in his face a great light and a peace which was almost beautiful.

      But never beamed the face of Fred so radiantly as the countenance of the waiting Joe. He lay back in his chair, his cigar pointing to the ceiling.

      "Well, Fred?"—there was an anthem in his voice.

      "Very well, Joe." Fred hung up his unnecessary umbrella.

      "I've sold the Fairies!"

      Joe said it and Fred said it. They said it together. There was the same lilt of triumph in each voice, and both smiles vanished at the identical instant.

      "You've sold the Fairies!" they said.

      They might have been rehearsing this scene for months, so perfect was the chorus.

      "Wait a bit, Joe," said Fred; "let's get the hang of this. I understand that you left the matter to me."

      "I did; but, Fred, I was so keen on the idea I had that I had to nip in before you. Of course, I didn't go to him as Pole & Pole——"

      "To him? What him?" asked Fred, breathing hard.

      "To What's-his-name—Bones."

      Fred took his blue silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his face.

      "Go on, Joe," he said sadly

      "I got him just before he went out to lunch. I sent up the United

       Merchant Shippers' card—it's our company, anyway. Not a word about

       Pole & Pole."

      "Oh, no, of course not!" said Fred.

      "And, my boy,"—this was evidently Joe's greatest achievement, for he described the fact with gusto—"not a word about the names of the ships. I just sold him two steamers, so and so tonnage, so and so classification——"

      "For how much?"

      Fred was mildly curious. It was the curiosity which led a certain political prisoner to feel the edge of the axe before it beheaded him.

      "A hundred and twenty thousand!" cried Joe joyously. "He's starting a fleet, he says. He's calling it the Tibbetts Line, and bought a couple of ships only this morning."

      Fred examined the ceiling carefully before he spoke.

      "Joe," he said, "was it a firm deal? Did you put pen to paper?"

      "You-bet-your-dear-sweet-life," said Joe, scornful at the suggestion that he had omitted such an indispensable part of the negotiation.

      "So did I, Joe," said Fred. "Those two ships he bought were the two Fairies."

      There was a dead silence.

      "Well," said Joe uneasily, after a while, "we can get a couple of ships——"

      "Where, Joe? You admitted yesterday there weren't two boats in the world on the market."

      Another long silence.

      "I did it for the best, Fred."

      Fred nodded

      "Something must be done. We can't sell a man what we haven't got. Joe, couldn't you go and play golf this afternoon whilst I wangle this matter out?"

      Joe nodded and rose solemnly. He took down his umbrella from the peg and his shiny silk hat from another peg, and tiptoed from the room.

      From three o'clock to four Mr. Fred Pole sat immersed in thought, and at last, with a big, heavy sigh, he unlocked his safe, took out his cheque-book and pocketed it.

      Bones was on the point of departure, after a most satisfactory day's work, when Fred Pole СКАЧАТЬ