Bones in London. Wallace Edgar
sir," he said gently, "it's in the other direction – toward thesea."
Bones dropped his pen and pinched his lip in an effort of memory.
"Is it? Now, where was I thinking about? I know – Maidenhead! Is itnear Maidenhead?"
"It's in the opposite direction from London," said the perspiring Mr.
Staines.
"Oh!"
Bones's interest evaporated.
"No good to me, my old speculator. Wharves! Bah!"
He shook his head violently, and Mr. Staines aroused himself.
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Mr. Tibbetts," he said simply; "I'll leavethe plans with you. I'm going down into the country for a night.Think it over. I'll call to-morrow afternoon."
Bones still shook his head.
"No go, nothin' doin'. Finish this palaver, dear old Honesty!"
"Anyway, no harm is done," urged Mr. Staines. "I ask you, is there anyharm done? You have the option for twenty-four hours. I'll roll theplans up so that they won't be in the way. Good morning!"
He was out of the office door before Bones could as much as deliver thepreamble to the stern refusal he was preparing.
At three o'clock that afternoon came two visitors. They sent in a cardbearing the name of a very important Woking firm of land agents, andthey themselves were not without dignity of bearing.
There was a stout gentleman and a thin gentleman, and they tiptoed intothe presence of Bones with a hint of reverence which was notdispleasing.
"We have come on a rather important matter," said the thin gentleman.
"We understand you have this day purchased Stivvins' Wharf – "
"Staines had no right to sell it?" burst in the stout man explosively."A dirty mean trick, after all that he promised us! It is just his wayof getting revenge, selling the property to a stranger!"
"Mr. Sole" – the thin gentleman's voice and attitude were eloquent ofreproof – "please restrain yourself! My partner is annoyed," heexplained "and not without reason. We offered fifty thousand poundsfor Stivvins', and Staines, in sheer malice, has sold theproperty – which is virtually necessary to our client – literally behindour backs. Now, Mr. Tibbetts, are you prepared to make a little profitand transfer the property to us?"
"But – " began Bones.
"We will give you sixty thousand," said the explosive man. "Take it orleave it – sixty thousand."
"But, my dear old Boniface," protested Bones, "I haven't bought theproperty – really and truly I haven't. Jolly old Staines wanted me tobuy it, but I assure you I didn't."
The stout man looked at him with glazed eyes, pulled himself together, and suggested huskily:
"Perhaps you will buy it – at his price – and transfer it to us?"
"But why? Nothing to do with me, my old estate agent and auctioneer.
Buy it yourself. Good afternoon. Good afternoon!"
He ushered them out in a cloud of genial commonplaces.
In the street they looked at one another, and then beckoned Mr.
Staines, who was waiting on the other side of the road.
"This fellow is either as wide as Broad Street or he's a babe in arms,"said the explosive man huskily.
"Didn't he fall?" asked the anxious Staines.
"Not noticeably," said the thin man. "This is your scheme, Jack, andif I've dropped four thousand over that wharf, there's going to betrouble."
Mr. Staines looked very serious.
"Give him the day," he begged. "I'll try him to-morrow – I haven't lostfaith in that lad."
As for Bones, he made an entry in his secret ledger.
"A person called Stains and two perrsons called Sole Bros. Brotherstryed me with the old Fiddle Trick. You take a Fiddel in a PawnBrokers leave it with him along comes another Felow and pretends its aStadivarious Stradivarious a valuable Fiddel. 2nd Felow offers to payfablous sum pawnbroker says I'll see. When 1st felow comes for hisfiddel pawnbroker buys it at fablous sum to sell it to the 2nd felow.But 2nd felow doesn't turn up.
"Note. – 1st Felow called himself Honest John!! I dout if I doughtit."
Bones finished his entries, locked away his ledger, and crossed thefloor to the door of the outer office.
He knocked respectfully, and a voice bade him come in.
It is not usual for the principal of a business to knock respectfullyor otherwise on the door of the outer office, but then it is not usualfor an outer office to house a secretary of such transcendentalqualities, virtue, and beauty as were contained in the person of MissMarguerite Whitland.
The girl half turned to the door and flashed a smile which was ofwelcome and reproof.
"Please, Mr. Tibbetts," she pleaded, "do not knock at my door. Don'tyou realize that it isn't done?"
"Dear old Marguerite," said Bones solemnly, "a new era has dawned inthe City. As jolly old Confusicus says: 'The moving finger writes, andthat's all about it.' Will you deign to honour me with your presencein my sanctorum, and may I again beg of you" – he leant his bonyknuckles on the ornate desk which he had provided for her, and lookeddown upon her soberly – "may I again ask you, dear old miss, to let mechange offices? It's a little thing, dear old miss. I'm never, nevergoin' to ask you to dinner again, but this is another matter. I am outof my element in such a place as – " He waved his hand disparaginglytowards his sanctum. "I'm a rough old adventurer, used to sleeping inthe snow – hardships – I can sleep anywhere."
"Anyway, you're not supposed to sleep in the office," smiled the girl, rising.
Bones pushed open the door for her, bowed as she passed, and followedher. He drew a chair up to the desk, and she sat down without furtherprotest, because she had come to know that his attentions, hisextravagant politeness and violent courtesies, signified no more thanwas apparent – namely, that he was a great cavalier at heart.
"I think you ought to know," he said gravely, "that an attempt was madethis morning to rob me of umpteen pounds."
"To rob you?" said the startled girl.
"To rob me," said Bones, with relish. "A dastardly plot, happilyfrustrated by the ingenuity of the intended victim. I don't want toboast, dear old miss. Nothing is farther from my thoughts or wishes, but what's more natural when a fellow is offered a – "
He stopped and frowned.
"Yes?"
"A precious metal refiner's – That's rum," said Bones.
"Rum?" repeated the girl hazily. "What is rum?"
"Of all the rummy old coincidences," said Bones, with restrained andhollow enthusiasm – "why, only this morning I was reading in TwiddlyBits, a ripping little paper, dear old miss – There's a columncalled 'Things You Ought to Know,' which is honestly worth thetwopence."
"I know it," said the girl curiously. "But what did you read?"
"It was an article called 'Fortunes Made in Old Iron,'" said Bones.
"Now, suppose this naughty old refiner – By Jove, it's an idea!"
He paced the room energetically, changing the aspect of his face withgreat rapidity, as wandering thoughts crowded in upon him and vastpossibilities shook their alluring banners upon the pleasant scene heconjured. Suddenly he pulled himself together, shot out his cuffs, opened and closed all the drawers of his desk as though seekingsomething – he found it where he had left it, hanging on a peg behindthe door, and put it on – and said with great determination andbriskness:
"Stivvins' Wharf, Greenhithe. You will accompany me. Bring yournote-book. It is not necessary to bring a typewriter. I will arrangefor a taxicab. We can do the journey in two hours."
"But