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"Yes."
"I'll book it."
He did so; signed a fict.i.tious name in the visitors' book, received his key, and went up in the elevator to his room.
He sat down and waited, waited till he heard the tenant of No. 41 come along the pa.s.sage, and pa.s.s through the room bearing that number.
Then Gerald flung off his coat, stepped into the pa.s.sage, satisfied himself that no soul was in sight, turned the handle of the door of No.
41, pushed it open, and sprang on its occupant--Loide.
The surprise party generally has the advantage--Gerald had.
Before Loide could utter a cry, or turn to gaze at his a.s.sailant, strong fingers were gripping his throat and half choking him.
The lawyer was being garroted. Resistance ceased.
He became limp. Gerald was holding an unconscious man in his arm.
Gerald dropped his burden to the floor and sprang to the door, shot the bolt, and then turned to the man on the carpet.
He felt his heart, it was beating--beating furiously. That was all right.
Gerald knew his victim to be a murderer, but he did not want to become one himself.
He went over the man. In the breast pocket, in an envelope, he found the notes. He counted them--eighteen.
One glance at the man, one more feel of the heart, and he went into his own chamber.
Getting into his coat, and putting on his hat, he went out of his room, and, key in hand, was carried by the lift to the ground floor.
Leaving his key in the bureau, he walked away from the hotel, and inquiring of a policeman where the office of the New York Central Bank was, he made in its direction.
At the bank counter he filled a form paying in to the credit of George Depew eighteen thousand pounds.
"Will you wire through to your Oakville branch, telling them to let Mr.
Depew know at once that this money has been paid to his account?"
"Certainly, sir. It shall be done immediately."
"Thank you. Give me the name of the most respectable lawyer near here, will you?"
"Denison, Coomer & Wall--they rank highest around here."
"Thanks."
Gerald went to the lawyers. To the acting partner he said:
"I was recommended here by the New York Central Bank. I was commissioned by Mr. George Depew, farmer, of Oakville, to go to England to collect nineteen thousand pounds, money left him under a will. I got it, and came over by the _Cascaria_. I was robbed on board. Eighteen thousand pounds of the money I have recovered and paid into the New York Central to Mr. Depew's credit; here is the bank's receipt."
"Yes--that is an order."
"One thousand pounds is missing--I traced it to Myer Wolff's--Exchange Bureau on Broadway. I went in. He has the note.
"I told him not to part with the money for it. The man who left it with him was the thief. He is a shrewd, clever thief; prompt measures must be taken to prevent his getting that thousand pounds."
"Where's Depew?"
"At home in Oakville. I want you to fetch him here express."
"Why don't you fetch him yourself?"
"He thinks I am the thief. I only got hands on the eighteen thousand pounds an hour ago. The whole lot was missing yesterday."
"He'll have to make a declaration and get bondsmen before that thousand pounds can be successfully claimed."
"He can do that--most respectable man in the section."
"I'll write him now to come along, and send the letter through special.
How do the trains run? Can he get here to-night?"
"Dead easy. If you catch the next out with your letter, he can be back here before half past four."
"Good. I'll tell him to be here at five o'clock. There'll be justices around at that time. You'll come back?"
"I will--you'll want me?"
"To join in the declaration--that's so."
"Good. I'll be here."
"Till five o'clock then. Good-bye."
"Good-bye."
CHAPTER x.x.xVII
THE LAWYER LIFTED INTO ANOTHER SPHERE
Loide lifted himself on his elbow and looked round. Then he remembered--he was in his room at the New York hotel.
He had entered the room and then--of course, some one had sprung on him from behind.
A horrible thought smote him. He plunged his hand into his breast pocket and screamed with rage--the pocket was empty!