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"It's like this, Molly," he said. And, having prefaced his narrative with the sound remark that he had been a fool, he gave her a summary of recent events.
"I see," said Molly. "And you must pay him at once?"
"By the end of the week. We had--we had a bit of a row."
"What about?"
"Oh, nothing," said Spennie. "Anyhow, I told him I'd pay him by Sat.u.r.day, and I don't want to have to climb down."
"Of course not. Jimmy shall lend you the money."
"Who? Jimmy Pitt?"
"Yes."
"But, I say, look here, Molly. I mean, I've been to him, already. He lent me a fiver. He might kick if I tried to touch him again so soon."
"I'll ask him for it."
"But, look here, Molly----"
"Jimmy and I are engaged, Spennie."
"What! Not really? I say, I'm frightfully pleased. He's one of the best. I'm fearfully glad. Why, that's absolutely topping. It'll be all right. I'll sweat to pay him back. I'll save out of my allowance. I can easily do it if I cut out a few things and don't go about so much.
You're a frightfully good sort, Molly. I say, will you ask him to-night? I want to pay Wesson first thing to-morrow morning."
"Very well. You'd better give me those notes, Spennie. I'll put them back."
The amateur cracksman handed over his loot, and retired toward the stairs. Molly could hear him going down them three at a time, in a whirl of relief and good resolutions. She went to Sir Thomas' room, and replaced the notes. Having done this, she could not resist the temptation to examine herself in the gla.s.s for a few moments. Then she turned away, switched off the light, and was just about to leave the room when a soft footstep in the pa.s.sage outside came to her ears.
She shrank back. She felt a curiously guilty sensation, as if she had been in the room with criminal rather than benevolent intentions. Her motives in being where she was were excellent--but she would wait till this person had pa.s.sed before coming out into the pa.s.sage.
Then it came to her with a shock that the person was not going to pa.s.s. The footsteps halted outside the door.
There was a curtain at her side, behind which hung certain suits of Sir Thomas'. She stepped noiselessly behind this.
The footsteps pa.s.sed on into the room.
CHAPTER XVI.
Jimmy had gone up to his room to put on the costume he was to wear in the first act at about the time when Spennie was being seized upon by Charteris to act as prompter. As he moved toward the stairs, a square-cut figure appeared.
It was the faithful Galer.
There was nothing in his appearance to betray the detective to the unskilled eye, but years of practice had left Spike with a sort of sixth sense as regarded the force. He could pierce the subtlest disguise. Jimmy had this gift in an almost equal degree, and it had not needed Mr. Galer's constant shadowing of himself to prove to Jimmy the correctness of Spike's judgment. He looked at the representative of Wragge's Detective Agency, Ltd., as he stood before him now, taking in his every detail: the square, unintelligent face; the badly cut clothes; the clumsy heels; the enormous feet.
"And this," he said to himself, "is the man McEachern thinks capable of tying my hands!" There were moments when the spectacle of Mr. Galer filled Jimmy with an odd sort of fury, a kind of hurt professional pride. The feeling that this espionage was a direct challenge enraged him. Behind this clumsy watcher he saw always the self-satisfied figure of Mr. McEachern. He seemed to hear him chuckling to himself.
"If it wasn't for Molly," he said to himself, "I'd teach McEachern a lesson. I'm trying to hold myself in, and he sets these fool detectives onto me. I shouldn't mind if he'd chosen somebody who knew the rudiments of the game, but Galer! Galer!
"Well, Mr. Galer," he said, aloud, "you aren't trying to escape, are you? You're coming in to see the show, aren't you?"
"Oh, yes," said the detective. "Jest wanted to go upstairs for 'alf a minute. You coming, too?"
"I was going to dress," said Jimmy, as they went up. "See you later,"
he added, at the door. "Hope you'll like the show."
He went into his room. Mr. Galer pa.s.sed on.
Jimmy had finished dressing, and had picked up a book to occupy the ten minutes before he would be needed downstairs, when there burst into the room Spike Mullins, in a state of obvious excitement.
"Gee, Mr. Chames!"
"h.e.l.lo, Spike."
Spike went to the door, opened it, and looked up and down the pa.s.sage.
"Mr. Chames," he said, in a whisper, shutting the door, "there's bin doin's to-night for fair. Me coco's still buzzin'. Say, I was to Sir Thomas' dressin' room----"
"What! What were you doing there?"
Spike looked somewhat embarra.s.sed. He grinned apologetically, and shuffled his feet.
"I've got dem, Mr. Chames," he said.
"Got them? Got what?"
"Dese."
He plunged his hand in his pocket, and drew forth a glittering ma.s.s.
Jimmy's jaw dropped as he gazed at Lady Blunt's rope of pearls.
"Two hundred t'ousand plunks," murmured Spike, gazing lovingly at them. "I says to myself, Mr. Chames ain't got no time to be getting'
after dem himself. He's too busy dese days wit' jollyin' along the swells. So it's up to me, I says, 'cos Mr. Chames'll be tickled to deat', all right, all right, if we can git away wit' dem. So I----"
Jimmy gave tongue with an energy which amazed his faithful follower.
"Spike! You lunatic! Didn't I tell you there was nothing doing when you wanted to take those things the other day?"
"Sure, Mr. Chames. But dose was little d.i.n.ky t'ings. Dese poils is boids, for fair."
"Good heavens, Spike, you must be mad. Can't you see--Oh, Lord!