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

At the outside of the double crowd he perceived a taxi. Ignoring the storm of questions with which he was assailed, and the advancing helmet of his friend the policeman at the back of the crowd, Laverick hailed it and stepped quickly inside.

“Back out of this and drive to Dover Street,” he directed. The man obeyed him. People raced to look through the window at him. The other commotion had died away,—the man in the road had got up and walked off. A policeman came hurrying along but he was just too late. Very soon they were on their way down Holborn. Once more Laverick had escaped.

A French man-servant, with the sad face and immaculate dress of a High-Church cleric, took possession of him as soon as he had asked for Mademoiselle Idiale. He was shown into one of the most delightful little rooms he had ever even dreamed of. The walls were hung with that peculiar shade of blue satin which Mademoiselle so often affected in her clothes. Laverick, who was something of a connoisseur, saw nowhere any object which was not, of its sort, priceless,—French furniture of the best and choicest period, a statuette which made him, for a moment, almost forget the scene from which he had just arrived. The air in the room seemed as though it had passed through a grove of lemon trees,—it was fresh and sweet yet curiously fragrant. Laverick sank down into one of the luxurious blue-brocaded chairs, conscious for the first time that he was out of breath. Then the door opened silently and there entered not the woman whom he had been expecting, but Mr. Lassen. Laverick rose to his feet half doubtfully. Lassen’s small, queerly-shaped face seemed to have become one huge ingratiating smile.

“I am very glad to see you, Mr. Laverick,” he said,—“very glad indeed.”

“I have come to call upon Mademoiselle Idiale,” Laverick answered, somewhat curtly. He had disliked this man from the first moment he had seen him, and he saw no particular reason why he should conceal his feelings.

“I am here to explain,” Mr. Lassen continued, seating himself opposite to Laverick. “Mademoiselle Idiale is unfortunately prevented from seeing you. She has a severe nervous headache, and her only chance of appearing tonight is to remain perfectly undisturbed. Women of her position, as you may understand, have to be exceptionally careful. It would be a very serious matter indeed if she were unable to sing to-night.”

“I am exceedingly sorry to hear it,” Laverick answered. “In that case, I will call again when Mademoiselle Idiale has recovered.”

“By all means, my dear sir!” Mr. Lassen exclaimed. “Many times, let us hope. But in the meantime, there is a little affair of a document which you were going to deliver to Mademoiselle. She is most anxious that you should hand it to me—most anxious. She will tender you her thanks personally, tomorrow or the next day, if she is well enough to receive.”

Laverick shook his head firmly.

“Under no circumstances,” he declared, “should I think of delivering the document into any other hands save those of Mademoiselle Idiale. To tell you the truth, I had not fully decided whether to part with it even to her. I was simply prepared to hear what she had to say. But it may save time if I assure you, Mr. Lassen, that nothing would induce me to part with it to any one else.”

There was no trace left of that ingratiating smile upon Mr. Lassen’s face. He had the appearance now of an ugly animal about to show its teeth. Laverick was suddenly on his guard. More adventures, he thought, casting a somewhat contemptuous glance at the physique of the other man. He laid his fingers as though carelessly upon a small bronze ornament which reposed amongst others on a table by his side. If Mr. Lassen’s fat and ugly hand should steal toward his pocket, Laverick was prepared to hurl the ornament at his head.

“I am very sorry to hear you say that, Mr. Laverick,” Lassen said slowly. “I hope very much that you will see your way clear to change your mind. I can assure you that I have as much right to the document as Mademoiselle Idiale, and that it is her earnest wish that you should hand it over to me. Further, I may inform you that the document itself is a most incriminating one. Its possession upon your person, or upon the person of any one who was not upon his guard, might be a very serious matter indeed.”

Laverick shrugged his shoulders.

“As a matter of fact,” he declared, “I certainly have no idea of carrying it about with me. On the other hand, I shall part with it to no one. I might discuss the matter with Mademoiselle Idiale as soon as she is recovered. I am not disposed—I mean no offence, sir—but I may say frankly that I am not disposed even to do as much with you.”

Laverick rose to his feet with the obvious intention of leaving. Lassen followed his example and confronted him.

“Mr. Laverick,” he said, “in your own interests you must not talk like that,—in your own interests, I say.”

“At any rate,” Laverick remarked, “my interests are better looked after by myself than by strangers. You must forgive my adding, Mr. Lassen, that you are a stranger to me.”

“No more so than Mademoiselle Idiale!” the little man exclaimed.

“Mademoiselle Idiale has given me certain proof that she knew at least of the existence of this document,” Laverick answered. “She has established, therefore, a certain claim to my consideration. You announce yourself as Mademoiselle Idiale’s deputy, but you bring me no proof of the fact, nor, in any case, am I disposed to treat with you. You must allow me to wish you good afternoon.”

Lassen shook his head.

“Mr. Laverick,” he declared, “you are too impetuous. You force me to remind you that your own position as holder of that document is not a very secure one. All the police in this capital are searching to-day for the man who killed that unfortunate creature who was found murdered in Crooked Friars’ Alley. If they could find the man who was in possession of his pocket-book, who was in possession of twenty thousand pounds taken from the dead man’s body and with it had saved his business and his credit, how then, do you think? I say nothing of the document.”

Laverick was silent for a moment. He realized, however, that to make terms with this man was impossible. Besides, he did not trust him. He did not even trust him so far as to believe him the accredited envoy of Mademoiselle.

“My unfortunate position,” Laverick said, “has nothing whatever to do with the matter. Where you got your information from I cannot say. I neither accept nor deny it. But I can assure you that I am not to be intimidated. This document will remain in my possession until some one can show me a very good reason for parting with it.”

Lassen beat the back of the chair against which he was standing with his clenched fist.

“A reason why you should part with it!” he exclaimed fiercely. “Man, it stares you there in the face! If you do not part with it, you will be arrested within twenty-four hours for the murder or complicity in the murder of Rudolph Von Behrling! That I swear! That I shall see to myself!”

“In which case,” Laverick remarked, “the document will fall into the hands of the English police.”

The shot told. Laverick could have laughed as he watched its effect upon his listener. Mr. Lassen’s face was black with unuttered curses. He looked as though he would have fallen upon Laverick bodily.

“What do you know about its contents?” he hissed. “Why do you suppose it would not suit my purpose to have it fall into the hands of the English police?”

“I can see no reason whatever,” Laverick answered, “why I should take you into my confidence as to how much I know and how much I do not know. I wish you good afternoon, Mr. Lassen! I shall be ready to wait upon Mademoiselle Idiale at any time she sends for me. But in case it should interest you to be made aware of the fact,” he added, with a little bow, “I am not going round with this terrible document in my possession.”