The Twelve African Novels (A Collection). Edgar Wallace

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СКАЧАТЬ she stepped forward and held out her hand, and he took it.

      “I’m so sorry,” was all she said, but she knew by the pressure on her hand that he understood.

      As they stood there, for the briefest space of time, hand to hand, Sutton slipped from the room, for he had been expecting visitors, and had heard the distant thrill of a bell.

      Neither noticed his absence.

      The girl’s face was upraised to Amber’s, and in her eyes was infinite compassion.

      “You are too good — too good for that life,” she said, and Amber shook his head, smiling with his eyes.

      “You don’t know,” he said gently, “perhaps you are wasting your pity — you make me feel a scoundrel when you pity me.”

      Before she could reply the door was flung open, and Sutton burst into the room; behind him was Lambaire, soberly arrayed, sleek of hair and perfectly groomed, and no less decorous of appearance was the inevitable Whitey bringing up the rear.

      Cynthia Sutton gazed blankly at the newcomers. It was a bold move of her brother’s to bring these men to her house. Under any circumstances their reception would have been a stiff one; now, a cold anger took possession of her, for she guessed that they had been brought to complete the rout of Amber.

      The first words of Sutton proved this.

      “Cynthia,” he said, with a satisfaction which he did not attempt to conceal, “these are the gentlemen that Mr. Amber has vilified — perhaps he would care to repeat—”

      “Young, very young,” said Amber tolerantly. He took the management of the situation from the girl’s hands, and for the rest of the time she was only a spectator. “Ne puero gladium — eh?”*

      [* Latin: Do not entrust a sword to a boy.]

      He was the virtuous schoolmaster reproaching youth.

      “And here we have evidence,” he exhibited Lambaire and his companion with a sweep of his hand, “confronted by the men he has so deeply wronged; and now, my Lambaire, what have you to say about us that we have not already revealed?” “ I know you are a thief,” said Lambaire. “True, O King!” admitted Amber genially. “I know you’ve been convicted three or four times for various crimes.”

      “Sounds like a nursery rhyme,” said Amber admiringly, “proceed, my Lambaire.”

      “That is quite enough, I think, to freeze you out of decent society.”

      “More than enough — much more than enough,” confessed the unabashed young man, with a melancholy smile, “and what says my Whitey, eh? What says my pallid one?” “ Look here, Amber,” began Whitey. “I once had occasion to inform you,” interrupted Amber severely, “that under no circumstances were you to take liberties with my name; I am Mister Amber to you, my Whitey.”

      “Mister or Master, you’re a hook—” said the other.

      “A what?”

      The horrified expression on Amber’s face momentarily deceived even so experienced a man as Whitey.

      “I mean you are a well-known thief,” he said.

      “That is better,” approved Amber, “the other is a coarse expression which a gentleman of parts should never permit himself to employ, my Boswell; and what else are we?”

      “That’s enough, I think,” said the man rudely.

      “Now that you mention the fact, I think that ‘enough’ is the word,” he looked round the group, from face to face, with the quizzical smile that was seldom absent. “More than enough,” he repeated. “We are detected, undone, fruster-ated, as a dear friend of mine would say.”

      He slowly unbuttoned his tight-fitting morning coat and thrust his hands into an inside pocket. With a great show of deliberation, he produced a gaudy pocketbook of red morocco. With its silver fittings, it was sufficiently striking to attract attention, even to those who had never seen it before. But there was one who knew it, and Lambaire made a quick step forward and snatched at it.

      “That is mine!” he cried; but Amber was too quick for him.

      “No, no, my Lambie,” he said, “there is a lady here; let us postpone our horseplay for another occasion.”

      “That is mine,” cried Lambaire angrily, “it was stolen the night you forced your way into the Whistlers. Mr. Sutton, I am going to make an example of this fellow. He came out of gaol last week, he goes back to-day; will you send for a policeman?”

      The boy hesitated.

      “Save you the trouble — save you the scandal — club raid and all that sort of thing,” said Amber easily. “Here is your portmanie — you will find the money intact.” He handed over the pocketbook with a pleasant little nod.

      “I have retained,” he went on, “partly as a reward for my honesty, partly as a souvenir of a pleasant occasion, one little fiver — commission — eh?”

      He held between^his fingers a banknote, and crackled it lovingly, and Cynthia, looking from one to the other in her bewilderment, saw Lambaire’s face go grey with fear.

VI. In Flair Court

       Table of Contents

      No word was spoken by Lambaire or Whitey as a taxicab carried them through the city to the big man’s office. They had taken a hurried and disjointed farewell of Sutton and had left immediately after Amber.

      It was after business hours, and Grene had gone, when Lambaire snapped the lock of his private room behind him, and sank into his padded lounge chair.

      “Well, what do you think?”

      Whitey looked down at him keenly as he put the question.

      “Phew! “ Lambaire wiped his forehead.

      “Well?” demanded Whitey sharply.

      “Whitey — that fellow’s got us.”

      Whitey’s thin lips curled in a contemptuous smile.

      “You’re dead easy to beat, Lambaire,” he said in his shrill way, “you’re Flab! You’re a Jellyfish!”

      He was lashing himself into one of his furies, and Lambaire feared Whitey in those moods more than he feared anything in the world.

      “Look here, Whitey, be sensible; we’ve got to face matters; we’ve got to arrange with him, square him !”

      “Square him!” Whitey’s derision and scorn was in his whistling laugh. “Square Amber — you fool! Don’t you see he’s honest! He’s honest, that fellow, and don’t forget it.”

      “Honest — why—”

      “Honest, СКАЧАТЬ