E. Phillips Oppenheim - 21 Greatest Spy Thrillers in One Premium Edition (Mystery & Espionage Series)

“You had better put down that pocket-book,” he ordered quietly.

The man was upon him with a single spring, but Laverick, without the slightest hesitation, knocked him prone upon the floor, where he lay, for a moment, motionless. Then he slowly picked himself up. His spectacles were broken—he blinked as he stood there.

“Sorry to be so rough,” Laverick said. “Perhaps if you will kindly realize that of the two I am much the stronger man, you will be so good as to sit in that chair and tell me the meaning of your intrusion.”

The man obeyed. He covered his eyes with his hand, for a moment, as though in pain.

“I imagine,” he said—and it seemed to Laverick that his voice had a slight foreign accent—“I imagine that the motive for my paying you this visit is fairly clear to you. People who have compromising possessions may always expect visits of this sort. You see, one runs so little risk.”

“So little risk!” Laverick repeated.

“Exactly,” the other answered. “Confess that you are not in the least inclined to ring your bell and send for a constable to give me in charge for being in possession of a pocket-book abstracted from your safe, containing twenty thousand pounds in Bank of England notes.”

“It wouldn’t do at all,” Laverick admitted.

“You are a man of common sense,” declared the other. “It would not do. Now comes the time when I have a question to ask you. There was a sealed document in this pocket-book. Where is it? What have you done with it?”

“Can you tell me,” Laverick asked, “why I should answer questions from a person whom I discover apparently engaged in a nefarious attempt at burglary?”

The man’s hand shot out from his trouser-pocket, and Laverick looked into the gleaming muzzle of a revolver.

“Because if you don’t, you die,” was the quick reply. “Whether you’ve read that document or not, I want it. If you’ve read it, you know the sort of men you’ve got to deal with. If you haven’t, take my word for it that we waste no time. The document! Will you give it me?”

“Do I understand that you are threatening me?” Laverick asked, retreating a few steps.

“You may understand that this is a repeating revolver, and that I seldom miss a half-crown at twenty paces,” his visitor answered. “If you put out your hand toward that bell, it will be the last movement you’ll ever make on earth.”

“London isn’t really the place for this sort of thing,” Laverick said. “If you discharge that revolver, you haven’t a dog’s chance of getting clear of the building. My clerks would rush out after you into the street. You’d find yourself surrounded by a crowd of business men. You couldn’t make your way through anywhere. You’d be held up before you’d gone a dozen yards. Put down your revolver. We can perhaps settle this little matter without it.”

“The document!” the man ordered. “You’ve got it! You must have it! You took that pocket-book from a dead man, and in that pocket-book was the document. We must have it. We intend to have it.”

“And who, may I ask, are we?” Laverick inquired.

“If you do not know, what does it matter? Will you give it to me?”

Laverick shook his head.

“I have no document.”

The man in the chair leaned forward. The muzzle of his revolver was very bright, and he held it in fingers which were firm as a rock.

“Give it to me!” he repeated. “You ought to know that you are not dealing with men who are unaccustomed to death. You have it about you. Produce it, and I’ve done with you. Deny me, and you have not time to say your prayers!”

Laverick was leaning against a small table which stood near the door. His fingers suddenly gripped the ledger which lay upon it. He held it in front of his face for a single moment, and then dashed it at his visitor. He followed behind with one desperate spring. Once, twice, the revolver barked out. Laverick felt the skin of his temple burn and a flick on the ear which reminded him of his school-days. Then his hand was upon the other man’s throat and the revolver lay upon the carpet.

“We’ll see about that. By the Lord, I’ve a good mind to wring the life out of you. That bullet of yours might have been in my temple.”

“It was meant to be there,” the man gasped. “Hand over the document, you pig-headed fool! It’ll cost you your life—if not to-day, to-morrow.”

“I’ll be hanged if you get it, anyway!” Laverick answered fiercely. “You assassin! Scoundrel! To come here and make a cold-blooded effort at murder! You shall see what you think of the inside of an English prison.”

The man laughed contemptuously.

“And what about the pocket-book?” he asked.

Laverick was silent. His assailant smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“Come,” he said, “I have made my effort and failed. You have twenty thousand pounds. That’s a fair price, but I’ll add another twenty thousand for that document unopened.”

“It is possible that we might deal,” Laverick remarked, kicking the revolver a little further away. “Unfortunately, I am too much in the dark. Tell me the real position of the murdered man? Tell me why he was murdered? Tell me the contents of this document and why it was in his possession? Perhaps I may then be inclined to treat with you.”

“You are either an astonishingly ingenuous person, Mr. Laverick,” his visitor declared, “or you’re too subtle for me. You do not expect me to believe that you are in this with your eyes blindfolded? You do not expect me to believe that you do not know what is in that sealed envelope? Bah! It is a child’s game, that, and we play as men with men.”

Laverick shook his head.

“Your offer,” he asked, “what is it exactly?”

“Twenty thousand pounds,” the man answered. “The document is worth no more than that to you. How you came into this thing is a mystery, but you are in and, what is more, you have possession. Twenty thousand pounds, Mr. Laverick. It is a large sum of money. You find it interesting?”

“I find it interesting,” Laverick answered dryly, “but I am not a seller.”

The intruder moved his hand away from his eyes. His expression was full of wonder.

“Consider for a moment,” he said. “While that document remains in your possession, you walk the narrow way, your life hangs upon a thread. Better surrender it and attend to your stocks and shares. Heaven knows how you first came into our affairs, but the sooner you are out of them the better. What do you say now to my offer?”

“It is refused,” Laverick declared. “I regret; to add,” he continued, “that I have already spared you all the time I have at my disposal. Forgive me.”

He pressed a button with his finger. His visitor rose up in anger.

“You are not such a fool!” he exclaimed. “You are not going to send me away without it? Why, I tell you that there won’t be a safe corner in the World for you!”

Halsey opened the door. Laverick nodded toward his visitor.

“Show this gentleman out, Halsey,” he ordered.

Halsey started. The noise of the revolver shot had evidently been muffled by the heavy connecting doors, but there was a smell of gunpowder in the room, and a little wreath of smoke. The man rose slowly to his feet, still blinking.

“It must be as you will, of course. I wonder if you would be so good as to let your clerk direct me to an oculist? I am, unfortunately, a helpless man in this condition.”

“There is one a few yards off,” Laverick answered. “Put on your hat, Halsey, and show this gentleman where he can get some glasses.”

His visitor leaned towards Laverick.

“It is your life which is in question, not my eyesight,” he muttered. “Do you accept my offer? Will you give me the document?”