The Golden Scorpion Page 17

  CHAPTER II

  BAITING THE TRAP

  The following morning I spent at home, in my modest rooms, reviewingmy position and endeavouring to adjust my plans in accordance with thelatest development. "The Scorpion" had scored a point. What had arousedthe suspicions "Le Balafre," I knew not; but I was inclined to thinkthat he had been looking from some window or peep-hole in the narrowstreet with the wooden houses when I had, injudiciously, followed himthere.

  On the other hand, the leakage might be in Paris--or in mycorrespondence system. The man of the scar might have been looking forme as I was looking for him. That he was looking for someone on thecross-channel boat I had not doubted.

  He was aware, then that Charles Malet, cabman, was watching him. Butwas he aware that Charles Malet was Gaston Max? And did he know whereI lived? Also--did he perchance think that my meeting with Dr. Stuartin Limehouse had been prearranged? Clearly he had seen Dr. Stuartenter my cab, for he had pursued us to Battersea.

  This course of reflection presently led me to a plan. It was adangerous plan, but I doubted if I should ever find myself in greaterdanger than I was already. _Nom d'un nom!_ I had not forgotten thepoor Jean Sach!

  That night, well knowing that I carried my life in my hands, I droveagain to Limehouse Town Hall, and again leaving my cab outside wentinto the bar where I had preciously me "Le Balafre." If I had doubtedthat my movements were watched I must now have had such doubtsdispelled; for two minutes later the man with the scar came in andgreeted me affably!

  I had learned something else. He did not know that I had recognizedhim as the person who had tracked me to Dr. Stuart's house!

  He invited me to drink with him, and I did so. As we raised ourglasses I made a move. Looking all about me suspiciously:

  "Am I right in supposing that you have business in this part ofLondon?" I asked.

  "Yes," he replied "My affairs bring me here sometimes."

  "You are well acquainted with the neighbourhood?"

  "Fairly well. But actually of course I am a stranger to London."

  I tapped him confidentially upon the breast.

  "Take my advice, as a friend," I said, "and visit these parts asrarely as possible."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "It is dangerous. From the friendly manner in which you entered intoconversation with me, I perceived that you were of a genial andunsuspicious nature. Very well. I warn you. Last night I was followedfrom a certain street not far from here to the house of a medical manwho is a specialist in certain kinds of criminology, you understand."

  He stared at me very hard, his teeth bared by that fearful snarl. "Youare a strange cabman."

  "Perhaps I am. No matter. Take my advice. I have things writtenhere"--I tapped the breast of my tunic--"which will astonish all theworld shortly. I tell you, my friend, my fortune is made."

  I finished my drink and ordered another for myself and one for myacquaintance. He was watching me doubtfully. Taking up my replenishedglass, I emptied it at a draught and ordered a third. I leaned overtowards the scarred man, resting my hand heavily upon his shoulder.

  "Five thousand pounds," I whispered thickly, "has been offered for theinformation which I have here in my pocket. It is not yet complete,you understand, and because they may murder me before I obtain therest of the facts, do you know what I am going to do with this?"

  Again I tapped my tunic pocket. "Le Balafre" frowned perplexedly.

  "I don't even know what you are talking about, my friend," he replied.

  "_I_ know what I am talking about," I assured him, speaking more andmore huskily. "Listen, then: I am going to take all my notes to myfriend, the doctor, and leave them with him, sealed--sealed, youfollow me? If I do not come back for them, In a week, shall we say?--hesends them to the police. _I_ do not profit, you think? No._morbleu!_but there are some who hang!"

  Emptying my third glass, I ordered a fourth and one for my companion.He checked me.

  "No more for me, thank you," he said. "I have--business to attend to.I will wish you good-night."

  "Good-night!" I cried boisterously--"good-night, friend! take heed ofmy good advice!"

  As he went out, the barman brought me my fourth glass of cognac, staringat me doubtfully. Our conversation had been conducted in French, butthe tone of my voice had attracted attention.

  "Had about enough, ain't you, mate?" he said. "Your ugly pal jibbed!"

  "Quite enough!" I replied, in English now of course. "But I've had astroke of luck to-night and I feel happy. Have one with me. This is afinal."

  On going out into the street I looked cautiously about me, for I didnot expect to reach the house of Dr. Stuart unmolested. I credited"Le Balafre" with sufficient acumen to distrust the genuineness ofmy intoxication, even if he was unaware of my real identity. I nevermake the mistake of underestimating an opponent's wit, and whilstacting on the assumption that the scarred man knew me to be forcinghis hand, I recognized that whether he believed me to be drunk orsober, Gaston Mas or another, his line of conduct must be the same.He must take it for granted that I actually designed to lodge my noteswith Dr. Stuart and endeavour to prevent me doing so.

  I could detect no evidence of surveillance whatever and cranking theengine I mounted and drove off. More than once, as I passed alongCommercial Road, I stopped and looked back. But so far as I couldmake out no one was following me. The greater part of my route layalong populous thoroughfares, and of this I was not sorry; but I didnot relish the prospect of Thames Street, along which presently mycourse led me.

  Leaving the city behind me, I turned into that thoroughfare, which atnight is almost quite deserted, and there I pulled up. _Pardieu!_ Iwas disappointed! It seemed as though my scheme had miscarried. Itcould not understand why I had been permitted to go unmolested, and Iintended to walk back to the corner for a final survey beforecontinuing my journey. This survey was never made.

  As I stopped the cab and prepared to descend, a faint--a very faint--sound almost in my ear, set me keenly on the alert. Just in the nickof time I ducked ... as the blade of a long knife flashed past myhead, ripping its way through my cloth cap!

  Yes! That movement had saved my life, for otherwise the knife musthave entered my shoulder--and pierced to my heart!

  Someone was hidden in the cab!

  He had quietly opened one of the front windows and had awaited asuitable opportunity to stab me. Now, recognizing failure, he leaptout on the near side as I lurched and stumbled from my seat, and ranoff like the wind. I never so much as glimpsed him.

  "_Mon Dieu!_" I muttered, raising my hand to my head, from which bloodwas trickling down my face, "the plan succeeds!"

  I bound a handkerchief as tightly as possible around the wound in myscalp and put my cap on to keep the bandage in place. The wound wasonly a superficial one, and except for the bleeding I suffered noinconvenience from it. But I had now a legitimate reason for visitingDr. Stuart, and as I drove on towards Battersea I was modifying myoriginal plan in accordance with the unforeseen conditions.

  It was long past Dr. Stuart's hours of consultation when I arrived athis house, and the servant showed me into a waiting-room, informing methat the doctor would join me in a few minutes. Directly she had goneout I took from the pocket of my tunic the sealed envelope which I hadintended to lodge with the doctor. Pah! it was stained with bloodwhich had trickled down from the wound in my scalp!

  Actually, you will say, there was no reason why I should place aletter in the hand of Dr. Stuart; my purpose would equally well beserved by _pretending_ that I had done so. Ah, but I knew that I hadto deal with clever people--with artists in crime--and it behooved meto be an artist also. I had good reason to know that their system ofespionage was efficient; and the slipshod way is ever the wrong way.

  The unpleasantly sticky letter I returned to my pocket, looking aroundme for some means of making up any kind of packet which could do dutyas a substitute. Beyond a certain draped over a recess at one end ofthe waiting-room I saw a row o
f boxes, a box of lint and other medicalparaphernalia. It was the doctor's dispensary. Perhaps I might findthere an envelope.

  I crossed the room and looked. Immediately around the corner, on alevel with my eyes, was a packet of foolscap envelopes and a stick of black sealing-wax! _Bien!_ all that I now required was a stout sheetof paper to enclose in one of those envelopes. But not a scrap ofpaper could I find, except the blood-stained letter in my pocket--towards which I had formed a strong antipathy. I had not even anewspaper in my possession. I thought of folding three or fourenvelopes, but there were only six in all, and the absence of somany might be noted.

  Drawing aside a baize curtain which hung from the bottom shelf, Idiscovered a number of old card-board boxes. It was sufficient. Witha pair of surgical scissors I cut a piece from the lid of one andthrust it into an envelope, gumming down the lapel. At a little gasjet intended for the purpose I closed both ends with wax and--singular coincidence!--finding a Chinese coin fastened to a corklying on the shelf, my sense of humour prompted me to use it as aseal! Finally, to add to the verisimilitude of the affair I borroweda pen which rested in a bottle of red ink and wrote upon theenvelope the number: 30, that day being the thirtieth day of themonth.

  It was well that the artist within me had dictated this carefulelaboration, as became evident a few minutes later when the doctorappeared at the head of a short flight of stairs and requested me tostep up to his consulting-room. It was a small room, so that thewindow, over which a linen blind was drawn, occupied nearly the wholeof one wall. As Dr. Stuart, having examined the cut on my scalp,descended to the dispensary for lint, the habits of a lifetime assertedthemselves.

  I quickly switched off the light and peeped out of the window aroundthe edge of the blind, which I drew slightly aside. In the shadow ofthe wall upon the opposite side of the narrow lane a man was standing!I turned on the light again. The watcher should not be disappointed!

  My skull being dressed, I broached the subject of the letter, which Isaid I had found in my cab after the accident which had caused theinjury.

  "Someone left this behind to-day, sir," I said; "perhaps the gentlemanwho was with me when I had the accident; and I've got no means oftracing him. He may be able to trace _me_, though, or he may advertise.It evidently contains something valuable. I wonder if you would do mea small favour? Would you mind taking charge of it for a week or so,until it is claimed?"

  He asked me why I did not take it to Scotland Yard.

  "Because," said I, "if the owner claims it from Scotland Yard he isless likely to be generous than if he gets it direct from me!"

  "But what is the point," asked Dr. Stuart, "in leaving it here?"

  I explained that if _I_ kept the letter I might be suspected of anintention of stealing it, whereas directly there was any inquiry, hecould certify that I had left it in his charge. He seemed to besatisfied and asked me to come into his study for a moment. The manin the lane was probably satisfied, too. I had stood three paces fromthe table-lamp all the time, waving the letter about as I talked, andcasting a bold shadow on the linen blind!

  The first thing that struck me as I entered the doctor's study wasthat the French windows, which opened on a sheltered lawn, were open.I acted accordingly.

  "You see," said Dr. Stuart, "I am enclosing your letter in this bigenvelope which I am sealing."

  "Yes, sir," I replied, standing at some distance from him, so that hehad to speak loudly. "And would you mind addressing it to the LostProperty Office."

  "Not at all," said he, and did as I suggested. "If not reclaimedwithin a reasonable time, it will be sent to Scotland Yard."

  I edged nearer to the open window.

  "If it is not reclaimed," I said loudly, "it goes to Scotland Yard--yes."

  "Meanwhile," concluded the doctor, "I am locking it in this privatedrawer in my bureau."

  "It is locked in your bureau. Very good."