The letters were gone!
Having once made up his mind to the fact of their disappearance1, there was nothing to do but accept it. Anthony realized very well that he could not pursue Giuseppe through the corridors of the Blitz Hotel. To do so was to court undesired publicity2, and in all probability to fail in his object all the same.
He came to the conclusion that Giuseppe had mistaken the packet of letters, enclosed as they were in the other wrappings, for the Memoirs3 themselves. It was likely therefore that when he discovered his mistake he would make another attempt to get hold of the Memoirs. For this attempt Anthony intended to be fully4 prepared.
Another plan that occurred to him was to advertize discreetly5 for the return of the package of letters. Supposing Giuseppe to be an emissary of the Comrades of the Red Hand, or, which seemed to Anthony more probable, to be employed by the Loyalist party, the letters could have no possible interest for either employer and he would probably jump at the chance of obtaining a small sum of money for their return.
Having thought out all this, Anthony returned to bed and slept peacefully until morning. He did not fancy that Giuseppe would be anxious for a second encounter that night.
Anthony got up with his plan of campaign fully thought out. He had a good breakfast, glanced at the papers which were full of the new discoveries of oil in[Pg 58] Herzoslovakia, and then demanded an interview with the manager, and, being Anthony Cade, with a gift for getting his own way by means of quiet determination, he obtained what he asked for.
“You wished to see me, I understand, Mr.—er—McGrath?”
“I did. I arrived at your hotel yesterday afternoon, and I had dinner served to me in my own rooms by a waiter whose name was Giuseppe.”
He paused.
“I dare say we have a waiter of that name,” agreed the manager indifferently.
“I was struck by something unusual in the waiter’s manner, but thought nothing more of it at the time. Later, in the night, I was awakened8 by the sound of some one moving softly about the room. I switched on the light, and found this same Giuseppe in the act of rifling my leather suit-case.”
The manager’s indifference9 had completely disappeared now.
“But I have heard nothing of this,” he exclaimed. “Why was I not informed sooner?”
“The man and I had a brief struggle—he was armed with a knife by the way. In the end he succeeded in making off by way of the window.”
“What did you do then, Mr. McGrath?”
“I examined the contents of my suit-case.”
“Had anything been taken?”
“Nothing of—importance,” said Anthony slowly.
The manager leaned back with a sigh.
“I am glad of that,” he remarked. “But you will allow me to say, Mr. McGrath, that I do not quite understand your attitude in the matter. You made no attempt to arouse the hotel? To pursue the thief?”
“Nothing of value had been taken, as I tell you. I am[Pg 59] aware, of course, that strictly11 speaking it is a case for the police——”
He paused, and the manager murmured without any particular enthusiasm:
“For the police—of course——”
“In any case, I was fairly certain that the man would manage to make good his escape, and since nothing was taken why bother with the police?”
The manager smiled a little.
“I see that you realize, Mr. McGrath, that I am not at all anxious to have the police called in. From my point of view it is always disastrous12. If the newspapers can get hold of anything connected with a big fashionable hotel such as this, they always run it for all it is worth, no matter how insignificant13 the real subject matter may be.”
“Quite so,” agreed Anthony. “Now I told you that nothing of value had been taken, and that was perfectly14 true in a sense. Nothing of any value to the thief was taken, but he got hold of something which is of considerable value to me.”
“Ah?”
“Letters, you understand.”
An expression of superhuman discretion15, only to be achieved by a Frenchman, settled down upon the manager’s face.
“I comprehend,” he murmured. “But perfectly. Naturally, it is not a matter for the police.”
“We are quite agreed upon that point. But you will understand that I have every intention of recovering these letters. In the part of the world where I come from, people are used to doing things for themselves. What I require from you therefore is the fullest possible information you can give me about this waiter, Giuseppe.”
“I see no objection to that,” said the manager after a moment or two’s pause. “I cannot give you the information offhand16, of course, but if you will return in half[Pg 60] an hour’s time I will have everything ready to lay before you.”
“Thank you very much. That will suit me admirably.”
In half an hour’s time, Anthony returned to the office again to find that the manager had been as good as his word. Jotted17 down upon a piece of paper were all the relevant facts known about Giuseppe Manelli.
“He came to us, you see, about three months ago. A skilled and experienced waiter. Has given complete satisfaction. He has been in England about five years.”
Together the two men ran over a list of the hotels and restaurants where the Italian had worked. One fact struck Anthony as being possibly of significance. At two of the hotels in question there had been serious robberies during the time that Giuseppe was employed there, though no suspicion of any kind had attached to him in either case. Still, the fact was significant.
Was Giuseppe merely a clever hotel thief? Had his search of Anthony’s suit-case been merely part of his habitual19 professional tactics? He might just possibly have had the packet of letters in his hand at the moment when Anthony switched on the light, and have shoved it into his pocket mechanically so as to have his hands free. In that case, the thing was mere18 plain or garden robbery.
Against that, there was to be put the man’s excitement of the evening before when he had caught sight of the papers lying on the table. There had been no money or object of value there such as would excite the cupidity20 of an ordinary thief.
No, Anthony felt convinced that Giuseppe had been acting21 as a tool for some outside agency. With the information supplied to him by the manager, it might be possible to learn something about Giuseppe’s private life, and so finally track him down. He gathered up the sheet of paper and rose.
“Thank you very much indeed. It’s quite unnecessary to ask, I suppose, whether Giuseppe is still in the hotel?”
The manager smiled.
[Pg 61]
“His bed was not slept in, and all his things have been left behind. He must have rushed straight out after his attack upon you. I don’t think there is much chance of our seeing him again.”
“I imagine not. Well, thank you very much indeed. I shall be staying on here for the present.”
“I hope you will be successful in your task, but I confess that I am rather doubtful.”
“I always hope for the best.”
One of Anthony’s first proceedings22 was to question some of the other waiters who had been friendly with Giuseppe, but he obtained very little to go upon. He wrote out an advertisement on the lines he had planned, and had it sent to five of the most widely read newspapers. He was just about to go out and visit the restaurant at which Giuseppe had been previously23 employed when the telephone rang. Anthony took up the receiver.
“Hullo, what is it?”
A toneless voice replied.
“Am I speaking to Mr. McGrath?”
“You are. Who are you?”
“This is Messrs. Balderson and Hodgkins. Just a minute, please. I will put you through to Mr. Balderson.”
“Our worthy24 publishers,” thought Anthony. “So they are getting worried too, are they? They needn’t. There’s a week to run still.”
“Hullo! That Mr. McGrath?”
“Speaking.”
“I’m Mr. Balderson of Balderson and Hodgkins. What about that manuscript, Mr. McGrath?”
“Well,” said Anthony, “what about it?”
“Everything about it. I understand, Mr. McGrath, that you have just arrived in this country from South Africa. That being so, you can’t possibly understand the position. There’s going to be trouble about that manuscript, Mr. McGrath, big trouble. Sometimes I wish we’d never said we’d handle it.”
[Pg 62]
“Indeed?”
“I assure you it’s so. At present I’m anxious to get it into my possession as quickly as possible, so as to have a couple of copies made. Then, if the original is destroyed—well, no harm will be done.”
“Dear me,” said Anthony.
“Yes, I expect it sounds absurd to you, Mr. McGrath. But, I assure you, you don’t appreciate the situation. There’s a determined26 effort being made to prevent its ever reaching this office. I say to you quite frankly27 and without humbug28 that if you attempt to bring it yourself it’s ten to one that you’ll never get here.”
“I doubt that,” said Anthony. “When I want to get anywhere, I usually do.”
“You’re up against a very dangerous lot of people. I wouldn’t have believed it myself a month ago. I tell you, Mr. McGrath, we’ve been bribed29 and threatened and cajoled by one lot and another until we don’t know whether we’re on our heads or our heels. My suggestion is that you do not attempt to bring the manuscript here. One of our people will call upon you at the hotel and take possession of it.”
“And supposing the gang does him in?” asked Anthony.
“The responsibility would then be ours—not yours. You would have delivered it to our representative and obtained a written discharge. The cheque for—er—a thousand pounds which we are instructed to hand to you will not be available until Wednesday next by the terms of our agreement with the executors of the late—er—author—you know whom I mean, but if you insist I will send my own cheque for that amount by the messenger.”
Anthony reflected for a minute or two. He had intended to keep the Memoirs until the last day of grace, because he was anxious to see for himself what all the fuss was about. Nevertheless, he realized the force of the publisher’s arguments.
“All right,” he said, with a little sigh. “Have it your[Pg 63] own way. Send your man along. And if you don’t mind sending that cheque as well I’d rather have it now, as I may be going out of England before next Wednesday.”
“Certainly, Mr. McGrath. Our representative will call upon you first thing to-morrow morning. It will be wiser not to send anyone direct from the office. Our Mr. Holmes lives in South London. He will call in on his way to us, and will give you a receipt for the package. I suggest that to-night you should place a dummy30 packet in the manager’s safe. Your enemies will get to hear of this, and it will prevent any attack being made upon your apartments to-night.”
“Very well, I will do as you direct.”
Anthony hung up the receiver with a thoughtful face.
Then he went on with his interrupted plan of seeking news of the slippery Giuseppe. He drew a complete blank, however. Giuseppe had worked at the restaurant in question, but nobody seemed to know anything of his private life or associates.
“But I’ll get you, my lad,” murmured Anthony, between his teeth. “I’ll get you yet. It’s only a matter of time.”
At nine o’clock the following morning, the card of Mr. Holmes from Messrs. Balderson and Hodgkins was sent up, and Mr. Holmes followed it. A small, fair man with a quiet manner. Anthony handed over the manuscript, and received in exchange a cheque for a thousand pounds. Mr. Holmes packed up the manuscript in the small brown bag he carried, wished Anthony good morning, and departed. The whole thing seemed very tame.
“But perhaps he’ll be murdered on the way there,” Anthony murmured aloud, as he stared idly out of the window. “I wonder now—I very much wonder.”
He put the cheque in an envelope, enclosed a few lines of writing with it, and sealed it up carefully. Jimmy, who had been more or less in funds at the time of his encounter with Anthony at Bulawayo, had advanced him a[Pg 64] substantial sum of money which was, as yet, practically untouched.
“If one’s job’s done with, the other isn’t,” said Anthony to himself. “Up to now, I’ve bungled32 it. But never say die. I think that, suitably disguised, I shall go and have a look at 487, Pont Street.”
He packed his belongings33, went down and paid his bill, and ordered his luggage to be put on a taxi. Suitably rewarding those who stood in his path, most of whom had done nothing whatever materially to add to his comfort, he was on the point of being driven off, when a small boy rushed down the steps with a letter.
“Just come for you, this very minute, sir.”
With a sigh, Anthony produced yet another shilling. The taxi groaned34 heavily and jumped forward with a hideous35 crashing of gears, and Anthony opened the letter.
It was rather a curious document. He had to read it four times before he could be sure of what it was all about. Put in plain English (the letter was not in plain English, but in the peculiar36 involved style common to missives issued by Government officials) it presumed that Mr. McGrath was arriving in England from South Africa to-day—Thursday, it referred obliquely37 to the Memoirs of Count Stylptitch, and begged Mr. McGrath to do nothing in the matter until he had had a confidential38 conversation with Mr. George Lomax, and certain other parties whose magnificence was vaguely39 hinted at. It also contained a definite invitation to go down to Chimneys as the guest of Lord Caterham, on the following day, Friday.
A mysterious and thoroughly40 obscure communication. Anthony enjoyed it very much.
“Dear old England,” he murmured affectionately. “Two days behind the times, as usual. Rather a pity. Still, I can’t go down to Chimneys under false pretences41. I wonder, though, if there’s an inn handy? Mr. Anthony Cade might stay at the inn without anyone being the wiser.”
He leaned out of the window, and gave new directions[Pg 65] to the taxi driver, who acknowledged them with a snort of contempt.
The taxi drew up before one of London’s more obscure hostelries. The fare, however, was paid on a scale befitting its point of departure.
Having booked a room in the name of Anthony Cade, Anthony passed into a dingy42 writing-room, took out a sheet of notepaper stamped with the legend Hotel Blitz, and wrote rapidly.
He explained that he had arrived on the preceding Tuesday, that he had handed over the manuscript in question to Messrs. Balderson and Hodgkins, and he regretfully declined the kind invitation of Lord Caterham as he was leaving England almost immediately. He signed the letter “Yours faithfully, James McGrath.”
“And now,” said Anthony, as he affixed43 the stamp to the envelope. “To business. Exit James McGrath, and Enter Anthony Cade.”
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1
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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memoirs
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| n.回忆录；回忆录传( mem,自oir的名词复数) | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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offhand
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| adj.临时，无准备的；随便，马虎的 | |
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jotted
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| v.匆忙记下( jot的过去式和过去分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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mere
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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cupidity
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| n.贪心，贪财 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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proceedings
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previously
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worthy
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hearty
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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frankly
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humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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bribed
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dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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bungled
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| v.搞糟，完不成( bungle的过去式和过去分词 )；笨手笨脚地做；失败；完不成 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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obliquely
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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pretences
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| n.假装( pretence的名词复数 )；作假；自命；自称 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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affixed
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| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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