Chapter NINE

Dick Allenby never described himself as being engaged, and the tell-tale finger of Mary Lane bore no ring indicative of her future. He mentioned the fact casually as he sat in her dressing-room between the last two acts of _Cliffs of Fate_ and he talked to her through a cretonne curtain behind which she was changing her dress.

"I shall be getting a bad name," he said. "Nothing damages the reputation of an inventor more readily than to be recognised by stage-door keepers. He admits me now without question."

"Then you shouldn't come so often," she said, coming through the curtain, and sitting before her dressing-table.

"I won't say you're a matter of life and death to me," said Dick, "but very nearly. You're more important than anything in the world."

"Including the Allenby gun?"

"Oh, that!" he said contemptuously. "By the way, a German engineer came in today and offered me, on behalf of Eckstein's--they're the big Essen engineers--ten thousand pounds for the patent."

"What was the matter with him?" she asked flippantly.

"That's what I wondered," said Dick, lighting a forbidden cigarette. "No, he wasn't drunk--quite a capable bloke, and terribly discerning. He told me he thought I was one of the greatest inventors of the age."

"Darling, you are," she said.

"I know I am," said Dick complacently. "But it sounded awfully nice in German. Honestly, Mary, I had no idea this thing was worth so much."

"Are you selling it?" She turned her head to ask the question.

Dick hesitated.

"I'm not sure," he said. "But it is this enormous accession of wealth that has brought me to the point of your unadorned engagement finger."

She turned to the mirror, smoothed her face gently with a puff, and shook her head.

"I'm going to be a very successful actress," she said.

"You are a very successful actress," said Dick lazily. "You've extracted a proposal of marriage from a great genius."

She swung round in her chair.

"Do you know what I'm in dread of?" she asked.

"Besides marriage, nothing, I should think."

"No, there's one prospect that terrifies me." She was very serious. "And that is that your uncle should leave me all his money."

He chuckled softly.

"It is a fear that has never disturbed my night's rest--why do you say that?"

She looked at him, biting her lip thoughtfully.

"Once he said something about it, and it struck me quite recently that he loathes you so much that out of sheer pique he might leave it to me, and that would be dreadful."

He stared at her.

"In Heaven's name, why?" he asked.

"I should have to marry you," she said.

"Out of sheer pique?" he bantered.

She shook her head.

"No; but it would be dreadful, wouldn't it, Dick?"

"I think you're worrying yourself unnecessarily," he said dryly. "The old boy is more likely to leave it to a dog's home. Do you see much of him?"

She told him of her visit to Naylors Crescent, but that was old news to him.

They were talking when there came a tap at the door. She half rose, thinking it was the call boy; but when the knock was repeated and she said "Come in," it was Leo Moran who made an appearance.

He favoured Dick with a little grimace.

"Instead of wasting your time here you ought to be sitting at home, tuning in to my epoch-making address."

"Been broadcasting, have you?" smiled Dick. "Do they make you dress up for it?"

"I'm going on to supper."

This time the knock was followed by the sing-song voice of the call boy, and Mary hurried out. She was glad to escape: for some reason she never felt quite at ease in Mr. Moran's presence.

"Have you seen this show?" asked Dick.

Moran nodded.

"For my sins, yes," he said. "It's the most ghastly play in London. I wonder why old Mike keeps it on? He must have a very rich backer."

"Have you ever heard of Washington Wirth?"

Leo Moran's face was a blank.

"Never heard of him, no. What is he--an American?"

"Something unusual," said Dick. "I was reckoning up the other day; he must have lost ten thousand pounds on this play already, and there's no special reason, so far as I know, why he's keeping it running. Mary's the only woman in the cast who's worth looking at, and she's no friend of his."

"Washington Wirth? The name is familiar." Moran looked at the wall above Dick's head. "I've heard something about him or seen his name. By the way, I met an old friend of yours tonight, Surefoot Smith. You were present when that wretched man Tickler was found, weren't you?"

Dick nodded.

"The fool treated me as though I were an accomplice."

"If the fool you are referring to is Surefoot Smith, he treated me as though I were the murderer," said Dick. "Did you give him some beer?"

Leo Moran opened the door and, after looking down the deserted corridor, came back and closed the door quietly.

"I was hoping I should see you here, Dick. I want to ask you a favour."

Dick grinned.

"Nothing would give me greater joy than to refuse a favour to a bank manager," he said.

"Don't be a fool; it has nothing to do with money. Only----"

He stopped, and it seemed as if he were carefully framing his words.

"I may be out of London for a week or two. My leave is due, and I want to get into the country. I wonder if you could collect my letters at the flat and keep them for me till I come back?"

"Why not have them sent on?" said Dick, in surprise.

Leo Moran shook his head impatiently.

"I have a special reason for asking. I'm having nothing sent on at all. My servant is going away on his holiday, and the flat will be in charge of Heaven knows who. If I send you the key, will you keep an eye on the place?"

"When are you going?" asked Dick.

Moran was vague on this point; there was no certainty whether his leave would be granted. Head office was being rather difficult, although he had a most capable assistant and could have handed over at any moment.

"I want to go at once, but these brutes in the City are just being tin-godlike. You'll never know how near human beings can approach divinity until you have had dealings with general managers of banks," he said. "When you approach them you make three genuflections and stand on your head, and even then they hardly notice you! Is it a bet?"

"Surely," said Dick. "You know where to send the key. And I'll take a little cheap advice from you, now you're here."

He told him of the offer he had received for the gun. There was no need to explain what the gun was, for Leo had both seen and tested it.

"I shouldn't take an outright offer. I should prefer to take half on account of a royalty," he said, when Dick had finished. "Are you going to your flat soon?"

"Almost immediately," said the other. "Mary has a supper engagement."

"With Mr. Wirth?" asked Moran with a smile.

"I thought you'd never heard of him?" said Dick.

"His name came to me as I was speaking. He's the fellow who gives these supper parties. I used to give them myself once upon a time, and Dead Sea fruit they are! But if you're going back I'll walk with you, and renew my acquaintance with your remarkable invention."

Leo Moran would have been ever so much more popular but for the fact that there was invariably a hint of sarcasm in his most commonplace remarks. Sometimes Dick, who liked him well enough, thought he had been soured by some big misfortune; for, despite his geniality, there was generally a bite to his remarks. Dick forgave him as they walked along the Strand for all that he had to say concerning Jerry Dornford.

"There's a wastrel!" said Moran. "I can't tell you why I think so, because I'm interviewing him tomorrow on bank business."

Though the evening was warm, a fog had formed, which, as their cab approached the Park, increased in density. It was clearing off as they passed through Knightsbridge.

"As a matter of fact," said Dick, "you're making me do something it has been on my conscience to do all the evening, and that is, go home and look at that gun. Like a fool, I charged it before I came out. I was about to make the experiment of trying to shoot a nickel bullet through a steel plate, and like an idiot I left it loaded. It's thicker here."

The fog was very patchy, and was so dense that the cabman had to feel his way along the kerb as they approached the house where Dick Allenby had his workshop.

The little lift was in darkness, and even when Dick turned the switch no light came. As he moved he trod on something which crashed under his feet. Immediately there followed a loud and alarming explosion.

"What the devil was that?" asked Moran irritably.

Dick struck a match. He saw on the floor the remains of a small incandescent globe which had evidently been removed from the roof of the lift.

"That's odd. Our janitor is a little careless," he said, and pushed the button that sent the elevator up to the top floor. He took out a key and had another surprise, for a key was already in the lock, so tightly fitted that it could not be turned one way or the other.

He twisted the handle; the door gave.

"There's somebody been playing monkey tricks here," he said.

Turning on the light, he stood stock still, momentarily incapable of speech. The bench on which the gun had stood was empty. The gun was gone!