First Person Paramount Part 31

"What is this Stelfox Steele like to look at, Gregson? You know him, don't you?" were the first words that attracted my attention, and thereafter I did not lose a syllable.

"Well!" replied the other, "I know him in a way. That is to say, I have met him once or twice in business, though I don't suppose he would recognise me if we pa.s.sed each other in the street ..."

"Oh! he is that sort, is he?"

"Now, Scott, you go too fast. I did not mean you to infer he is a sn.o.b.

But he must meet a lot of people, don't you know, and they say his memory for faces is not excellent."

"Is he like his photographs?"

"He is their living image."

"Then he is no Adonis, Greg."

"N--no," said Gregson, rather doubtfully. "But I'd not call him an ugly man, Scott. There is an air of quiet force about the fellow that marks him from the crowd. And he has some quaint mannerisms, too, that are not unpleasing."

"For instance?"

"Well, he grips your hand very hard and looks very straight into your eyes, when he meets you. It quite startles one at first, but, for my part, I don't dislike it. It seems honest, if it isn't. Then again, when he talks, he invariably drops his voice and half closes his eyes, no matter what the subject is, just as though he were making you an important confidence. In my opinion he owes a good deal of his success to those two apparent trifles. There's a lot in manner, Scott; more than most people imagine, and his manner simply provokes trust."

"Good Lord, Gregson, you don't mean to say you like the beast!"

"Like him!" echoed the other, raising his gla.s.s. "Why, here's to his confusion. We'll soon be all his bond-slaves, if he has his way! You've heard about his latest scheme, to corner wolfram, haven't you?"

"Please the pigs," muttered Scott, "something will break him before he brings that off. Fancy the villain daring to even dream of interfering with the working of our a.r.s.enals. It's bounce, of course, but what tremendous bounce!"

"If he succeeds," said Gregson, gloomily, "the whole world might as well become American citizens at once. Without wolfram we'll not be able to provide our s.h.i.+ps with armour-plate, nor manufacture a single big gun, except by the gracious favour of J. Stelfox Steele."

"Is it as bad as that?"

"Very nearly. It is impossible to harden steel properly without wolfram. Professor Bryant told me so to-day!"

"The fellow is a public danger--by Jove!"

"Say, rather a national menace, and you will not overstate the case. I tell you what, Scott, whoever tripped him up would deserve well of his country."

"I'd subscribe to a monument for such an one--by gad!"

I felt inclined to cry out at this juncture: "Sirs, look at me, the man is found!" But I restrained the impulse, despite the fact that I was thoroughly elated, and perfectly persuaded too that I had a mission to fulfil in life to save my country.

An hour later, I returned to Bruton Street, burdened with a large bundle of photographs, which I had purchased on the road. They represented J. Stelfox Steele, and in every conceivable posture and att.i.tude which a human being can a.s.sume. I set them about my room and began earnest study. The head was large, and yet rather brainy than intellectual, and the face argued a mind rather active than reflective.

The eyes were well-shaped and neither prominent nor deep-set. The nose was straight and shapely, like my own. Several photographs smiled.

These evidenced him to possess a long, white set of teeth. The upper lip was long and hairless, ergo a tenacious disposition. The lower was thin and compressed--it helped his square, clean-shaven chin to express a powerful determination. For the rest he wore a short, thick, grizzled crop of hair.

A strong, well-balanced countenance upon the whole, and eminently easy to impersonate. Indeed, fortune favoured me more than her wont, for my ears and shape of face resembled his in an extraordinary degree. I spent two hours, however, in careful thought and anxious contemplation before I allowed my wish to have its way. I even tried to catch his bent of mind from his counterfeit presentments, so that nothing might be lacking in my intended effort. At last I arose, and opening a drawer, examined my collection of false teeth. I soon found the set I wanted, and in a trice made change with those I wore. I wanted to surprise myself, so I rigidly refrained from glancing at a mirror. My next act was to explore my wig-box, and presently my head was clothed.

Closing my eyes, I spurred my will, and twisted suddenly the features that required such exercise. Finally, I stepped before the gla.s.s. J.

Stelfox Steele looked back at me--and that result I had obtained without having employed either paint, grease-pot, or other artifice than those I have described. I almost wept with joy, I felt so gratified, for already, in my dreams, I saw myself a millionaire.

My next week was a very busy one. I procured two suits of clothes, such as it was notorious that the great magnate always wore. I practised half-a-dozen hours each day before my mirror, until I had his face by heart and could imitate it swimmingly. And last, but not least, I purchased several piles of newspapers that had recorded J. Stelfox Steele's doings and sayings, manners and habits of life, over which accounts I pored like an ardent student in my leisure hours.

At the end of that period I was perfectly self-confident and anxious to commence my task. I was compelled, however, by force of circ.u.mstance, to postpone the battle for awhile, because Mr. Stelfox Steele had unexpectedly arrived in London. He came, according to the papers--which were full of him--to instal one of his co-adjutor millionaires, named Sampson Y. May, as supreme head of the Anglo-American Hotels Limited, during his temporary absence in South America, whither he proposed to proceed immediately, in order to purchase some large tracts of wolfram-bearing territory, whose control he needed for the perfection of the trust he was then engaged in forming.

I was at first disgusted at the delay, but not for long. Something caught me by the throat and said to me: "You fool, here is the opportunity of your life. Contrive to see the man, and then you will be better able to secure your chances of impersonating him successfully."

To think was to act. It was then early morning. By ten o'clock I would have pa.s.sed muster anywhere as a good-looking, languid, idle, elderly clubman. I wore a grey moustache, and side levers; a slightly darker wig and a monocle. I was, in fact, Lord Algernon Darnley. A "while you wait" printer inscribed the name upon some pasteboards, armed with which, I drove to the office of the Anglo-American Hotels Limited.

My card was deferentially received, but a polite secretary informed me that it would be impossible for the magnate to see me without a prearranged appointment.

"I have one," I drawled, unabashed by the rebuff, "Mr. Steele particularly requested me, through a common acquaintance, to call."

The secretary departed and returned. "Mr. Steele is exceedingly busy,"

he declared. "He will be glad if you will state your business to me."

"It's private," I said calmly. "I won't keep him long. I have a doc.u.ment to give him, that's all, but it's got to be placed in his hands."

I was requested to wait five minutes. I waited an hour, and was at last ushered to the great man's presence.

My first thought was: "How like his photographs!" But he was a taller man than I by a good two inches. Gregson was quite right. He looked me in the eyes very straight and keenly, and he gave my hand an energetic squeeze.

"Are we acquainted?" he demanded, in sharp, incisive tones, and he immediately sat down, pointing briskly to a chair. "Now, what's your business?"

His voice was almost free from tw.a.n.g, but peculiar, all the same. I had to pinch my leg to keep from mimicking it to his face.

"I fibbed," I began coolly, drawling my words to suit my character. "I could have got an introduction easily, but what's the use when a fib would do the trick as well, and quicker, probably. I wanted to see you, don't you know!"

He gave a quick smile, and a quicker, though slighter frown. "Well," he said, "you are here, what can I do for you? I can only spare you sixty seconds!" He took out his watch.

"I've a hundred thousand lying idle," I drawled.

"Pounds or dollars?" He half-closed his eyes, and his tones, though rapid, dropped to a murmur.

"Pounds."

"Well, sir, that is, Lord Darnley?"

"I thought of Anglo-American Hotels?" said I.

"You could not do better," he declared.

"Thanks!" I stood up. "I'm much obliged to you. Good-day!"

A bell tinkled, we shook hands, and I marched off thoroughly delighted.

I had his voice now, and I knew his height;--my two weak points were remedied.

On the following Sunday evening, at midnight, he set out for New York, and I was one of the crowd that watched him catch his train at Euston Station. Next morning I searched the papers through and through, but all they had to say of Mr. Steele was that he had sailed. After breakfast I packed my trunk and drove to a little unfrequented hotel in Lambert Road, where, _in propria persona_, I engaged a bedroom and a sitting-room upon the first floor, in my own name--Agar Hume. About an hour later a well-dressed elderly gentleman slipped out of my bedroom, and, descending the stairs, stepped into the street. This person ordered a hansom to take him to the City, giving the driver the address of a substantial firm of stockbrokers--named Ducker and Sims. I had previously taken care to ascertain that the firm in question had never been in any way connected with J. Stelfox-Steele.

Upon arrival I begged to be allowed an immediate private interview with one of the partners, pretending that my business was of the utmost urgency. My prayer was granted, and I was conducted into a ma.s.sively furnished office, where a hawk-faced man, of about forty years of age, was seated at a desk dictating letters to an ancient shorthand writer.

"Mr. Ducker?" I asked, as he glanced up.