Bones in London

Bones opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself.

"Me and Jim Curtis and young Harry, we were together in the Serpent

Queen– my name's Dibbs. That's where we got hold of the yarn about

Lomo Island, though we didn't believe there was anything in it. But when this Dago died – "

"Which Dago?" asked Bones.

"The Dago that knew all about it," said Mr. Dibbs impatiently, "and wecome to split up his kit in his mess-bag, I found this." He shook theoilskin case in Bones's face. "Well, the first thing I did, when I gotto Sydney, was to desert, and I got a chap from Wellington to put upthe money to hire a boat to take me to Lomo. We were wrecked on Lomo."

"So you got there?" said Bones sympathetically.

"Six weeks I was on Lomo. Ate nothing but crabs, drank nothing butrain-water. But the stuff was there all right, only" – he was veryemphatic, was this simple old sea-dog – "it wasn't under the third tree, but the fourth tree. I got down to the first of the boxes, and it wasas much as I could do to lift it out. I couldn't trust any of theKanaka boys who were with me."

"Naturally," said Bones. "An' I'll bet they didn't trust you, thenaughty old Kanakas."

"Look here," said Mr. Dibbs, and he pulled out of his pocket a handfulof gold coins which bore busts of a foreign-looking lady and gentleman."Spanish gold, that is," he said. "There was four thousand in thelittle box. I filled both my pockets, and took 'em back to Sydney whenwe were picked up. I didn't dare try in Australia. 'That gold willkeep,' I says to myself. 'I'll get back to England and find a man whowill put up the money for an expedition' – a gentleman, you understand?"

"I quite understand," said Bones, all a-quiver with excitement.

"And then I met Harry and Jim. They said they'd got somebody who wouldput the money up, an American fellow, Rockefeller. Have you ever heardof him?"

"I've heard of him," said Bones; "he's got a paraffin mine."

"It may be he has, it may be he hasn't," said Mr. Dibbs and rose."Well, sir, I'm very much obliged to you for your kindness. If you'lldirect me to Mr. Tibbetts's office – "

It was a dramatic moment.

"I am Mr. Tibbetts," said Bones simply.

Blank incredulity was on the face of Mr. Dibbs.

"You?" he said. "But I thought Mr. Tibbetts was an older gentleman?"

"Dear old treasure-finder," said Bones, "be assured I am Mr. Tibbetts.

This is my office, and this is my desk. People think I am older because – " He smiled a little sadly, then: "Sit down!" he thundered.

"Let us go into this."

He went into the matter, and the City clocks were booming one when heled his mariner friend into the street.

He was late at the office the next morning, because he was young andhealthy and required nine hours of the deepest slumber that Morpheuskept in stock.

The grey-eyed girl was typing at a very respectable speed the notesBones had given her the evening before. There was a telegram awaitinghim, which he read with satisfaction. Then:

"Leave your work, my young typewriter," said Bones imperiously. "Ihave a matter of the greatest importance to discuss with you! See thatall the doors are closed," he whispered; "lock 'em if necessary."

"I hardly think that's necessary," said the girl. "You see, if anybodycame and found all the doors locked – "

"Idiot!" said Bones, very red.

"I beg your pardon," said the startled girl.

"I was speaking to me," said Bones rapidly. "This is a matter of thegreatest confidence, my jolly old Marguerite " – he paused, shaking athis temerity, for it was only on the previous day that he haddiscovered her name – "a matter which requires tact and discretion, young Marguerite – "

"You needn't say it twice," she said.

"Well once," said Bones, brightening up. "That's a bargain – I'll callyou Marguerite once a day. Now, dear old Marguerite, listen to this."

She listened with the greatest interest, jotting down the preliminaryexpenses. Purchase of steamer, five thousand pounds; provisioning ofsame, three thousand pounds, etc., etc. She even undertook to make acopy of the plan which Mr. Dibbs had given into his charge, and whichBones told her had not left him day nor night.

"I put it in my pyjama pocket when I went to bed," he explainedunnecessarily, "and – " He began to pat himself all over, consternation in his face.

"And you left it in your pyjama pocket," said the girl quietly. "I'lltelephone to your house for it."

"Phew!" said Bones. "It seems incredible. I must have been robbed."

"I don't think so," said the girl; "it is probably under your pillow.

Do you keep your pyjamas under your pillow?"

"That," said Bones, "is a matter which I never discuss in public. Ihate to disappoint you, dear old Marguerite – "

"I'm sorry," said the girl, with such a simulation of regret that Bonesdissolved into a splutter of contrition.

A commissionaire and a taxicab brought the plan, which was discoveredwhere the girl in her wisdom had suggested.

"I'm not so sure how much money I'm going to make out of this," saidBones off-handedly, after a thorough and searching examination of theproject. "It is certain to be about three thousand pounds – it may be amillion or two million. It'll be good for you, dear old stenographer."

She looked at him.

"I have decided," said Bones, playing with his paper-knife, "to allowyou a commission of seven and a half per cent. on all profits. Sevenand a half per cent. on two million is, roughly, fifty thousandpounds – "

She laughed her refusal.

"I like to be fair," said Bones.

"You like to be generous," she corrected him, "and because I am a girl, and pretty – "

"Oh, I say," protested Bones feebly – "oh, really you are not pretty atall. I am not influenced by your perfectly horrible young face, believe me, dear old Miss Marguerite. Now, I've a sense of fairness, asense of justice – "

"Now, listen to me, Mr. Tibbetts." She swung her chair round to facehim squarely. "I've got to tell you a little story."

Bones listened to that story with compressed lips and folded arms. Hewas neither shocked nor amazed, and the girl was surprised.

"Hold hard, young miss," he said soberly. "If this is a jolly oldswindle, and if the naughty mariner – "

"His name is Webber, and he is an actor," she interrupted.

"And dooced well he acted," admitted Bones. "Well, if this is so, whatabout the other johnny who's putting up ten thousand to my fifteenthousand?"

This was a facer for the girl, and Bones glared his triumph.

"That is what the wicked old ship-sailer said. Showed me the money,an' I sent him straight off on the job. He said he'd got a StockExchange person named Morris – "

"Morris!" gasped the girl. "That is my step-father!"

Bones jumped up, a man inspired.

"The naughty old One, who married your sainted mother?" he gurgled.

"My miss! My young an' jolly old Marguerite!"

He sat down at his desk, yanked open the drawer, and slapped down hischeque-book.

"Three thousand pounds," he babbled, writing rapidly. "You'd betterkeep it for her, dear old friend of Faust."

"But I don't understand," she said, bewildered.

"Telegram," said Bones briefly. "Read it."

She picked up the buff form and read. It was postmarked from Cowes, and ran:

"In accordance your telegraphed instructions, have sold yourschooner-yacht to Mr. Dibbs, who paid cash. Did not give name ofowner. Dibbs did not ask to see boat. All he wanted was receipt formoney."

"They are calling this afternoon for my fifteen thousand," said Bones, cackling light-headedly. "Ring up jolly old Scotland Yard, and ask 'emto send me all the police they've got in stock!"

CHAPTER III

BONES AND THE WHARFINGERS

I

The kite wheeling invisible in the blue heavens, the vulture appearingmysteriously from nowhere in the track of the staggering buck, possessqualities which are shared by certain favoured human beings. Nonewspaper announced the fact that there had arrived in the City ofLondon a young man tremendously wealthy and as tremendouslyinexperienced.

There were no meetings of organized robber gangs, where masked men laidnefarious plans and plots, but the instinct which called the kite tohis quarry and the carrion to the kill brought many strangers – who wereequally strange to Bones and to one another – to the beautiful officewhich he had fitted for himself for the better furtherance of hisbusiness.

One day a respectable man brought to Mr. Tibbetts a plan of awarehouse. He came like a gale of wind, almost before Bones haddigested the name on the card which announced his existence andidentity.

His visitor was red-faced and big, and had need to use a handkerchiefto mop his brow and neck at intervals of every few minutes. Hisgeniality was overpowering.

Before the startled Bones could ask his business, he had put his hatupon one chair, hooked his umbrella on another, and was unrolling, withthat professional tremblement of hand peculiar to all who unroll largestiff sheets of paper, a large coloured plan, a greater portion ofwhich was taken up by the River Thames, as Bones saw at a glance.

He knew that blue stood for water, and, twisting his neck, he read"Thames." He therefore gathered that this was the plan of a propertyadjacent to the London river.

"You're a busy man; and I'm a busy man," said the stentorian manbreathlessly. "I've just bought this property, and if it doesn'tinterest you I'll eat my hat! My motto is small profits and quickreturns. Keep your money at work, and you won't have to. Do you seewhat I mean?"

"Dear old hurricane," said Bones feebly, "this is awfully interesting, and all that sort of thing, but would you be so kind as to explain whyand where – why you came in in this perfectly informal manner? Againstall the rules of my office, dear old thing, if you don't mind mesnubbing you a bit. You are sure you aren't hurt?" he asked.

"Not a bit, not a bit!" bellowed the intruder. "Honest John, Iam – John Staines. You have heard of me?"

"I have," said Bones, and the visitor was so surprised that he showedit.

"You have?" he said, not without a hint of incredulity.

"Yes," said Bones calmly. "Yes, I have just heard you say it, Honest

John Staines. Any relation to John o' Gaunt?"

This made the visitor look up sharply.

"Ha, ha!" he said, his laugh lacking sincerity. "You're a bit of ajoker, Mr. Tibbetts. Now, what do you say to this? This is Stivvins'Wharf and Warehouse. Came into the market on Saturday, and I bought iton Saturday. The only river frontage which is vacant between Greenwichand Gravesend. Stivvins, precious metal refiner, went broke in theWar, as you may have heard. Now, I am a man of few words andadmittedly a speculator. I bought this property for fifteen thousandpounds. Show me a profit of five thousand pounds and it's yours."

Before Bones could speak, he stopped him with a gesture.

"Let me tell you this: if you like to sit on that property for a month, you'll make a sheer profit of twenty thousand pounds. You can affordto do it – I can't. I tell you there isn't a vacant wharfage betweenGreenwich and Gravesend, and here you have a warehouse with thirtythousand feet of floor-space, derricks – derrick, named after thehangman of that name: I'll bet you didn't know that? – cranes, everything in – Well, it's not in apple-pie order," he admitted,"but it won't take much to make it so. What do you say?"

Bones started violently.

"Excuse me, old speaker, I was thinking of something else. Do you mindsaying that all over again?"

Honest John Staines swallowed something and repeated his proposition.

Bones shook his head violently.

"Nothing doing!" he said. "Wharves and ships —no!"

But Honest John was not the kind that accepts refusal without protest.

"What I'll do," said he confidentially, "is this: I'll leave the matterfor twenty-four hours in your hands."

"No, go, my reliable old wharf-seller," said Bones. "I never go up theriver under any possible circumstances – By Jove, I've got an idea!"

He brought his knuckly fist down upon the unoffending desk, and Honest

John watched hopefully.

"Now, if – yes, it's an idea!"

Bones seized paper, and his long-feathered quill squeaked violently.

"That's it – a thousand members at ten pounds a year, four hundredbedrooms at, say, ten shillings a night – How many is four hundredtimes ten shillings multiplied by three hundred and sixty-five? Well, let's say twenty thousand pounds. That's it! A club!"

"A club?" said Honest John blankly.

"A river club. You said Greenhithe – that's somewhere near Henley, isn't it?"

Honest John sighed.

"No, sir," he said gently, "it's in the other direction – toward thesea."

Bones dropped his pen and pinched his lip in an effort of memory.

"Is it? Now, where was I thinking about? I know – Maidenhead! Is itnear Maidenhead?"

"It's in the opposite direction from London," said the perspiring Mr.

Staines.

"Oh!"

Bones's interest evaporated.

"No good to me, my old speculator. Wharves! Bah!"

He shook his head violently, and Mr. Staines aroused himself.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Mr. Tibbetts," he said simply; "I'll leavethe plans with you. I'm going down into the country for a night.Think it over. I'll call to-morrow afternoon."

Bones still shook his head.

"No go, nothin' doin'. Finish this palaver, dear old Honesty!"

"Anyway, no harm is done," urged Mr. Staines. "I ask you, is there anyharm done? You have the option for twenty-four hours. I'll roll theplans up so that they won't be in the way. Good morning!"

He was out of the office door before Bones could as much as deliver thepreamble to the stern refusal he was preparing.

At three o'clock that afternoon came two visitors. They sent in a cardbearing the name of a very important Woking firm of land agents, andthey themselves were not without dignity of bearing.

There was a stout gentleman and a thin gentleman, and they tiptoed intothe presence of Bones with a hint of reverence which was notdispleasing.

"We have come on a rather important matter," said the thin gentleman.

"We understand you have this day purchased Stivvins' Wharf – "

"Staines had no right to sell it?" burst in the stout man explosively."A dirty mean trick, after all that he promised us! It is just his wayof getting revenge, selling the property to a stranger!"

"Mr. Sole" – the thin gentleman's voice and attitude were eloquent ofreproof – "please restrain yourself! My partner is annoyed," heexplained "and not without reason. We offered fifty thousand poundsfor Stivvins', and Staines, in sheer malice, has sold theproperty – which is virtually necessary to our client – literally behindour backs. Now, Mr. Tibbetts, are you prepared to make a little profitand transfer the property to us?"

"But – " began Bones.

"We will give you sixty thousand," said the explosive man. "Take it orleave it – sixty thousand."

"But, my dear old Boniface," protested Bones, "I haven't bought theproperty – really and truly I haven't. Jolly old Staines wanted me tobuy it, but I assure you I didn't."

The stout man looked at him with glazed eyes, pulled himself together, and suggested huskily:

"Perhaps you will buy it – at his price – and transfer it to us?"

"But why? Nothing to do with me, my old estate agent and auctioneer.

Buy it yourself. Good afternoon. Good afternoon!"

He ushered them out in a cloud of genial commonplaces.

In the street they looked at one another, and then beckoned Mr.

Staines, who was waiting on the other side of the road.

"This fellow is either as wide as Broad Street or he's a babe in arms,"said the explosive man huskily.

"Didn't he fall?" asked the anxious Staines.

"Not noticeably," said the thin man. "This is your scheme, Jack, andif I've dropped four thousand over that wharf, there's going to betrouble."

Mr. Staines looked very serious.

"Give him the day," he begged. "I'll try him to-morrow – I haven't lostfaith in that lad."

As for Bones, he made an entry in his secret ledger.

"A person called Stains and two perrsons called Sole Bros. Brotherstryed me with the old Fiddle Trick. You take a Fiddel in a PawnBrokers leave it with him along comes another Felow and pretends its aStadivarious Stradivarious a valuable Fiddel. 2nd Felow offers to payfablous sum pawnbroker says I'll see. When 1st felow comes for hisfiddel pawnbroker buys it at fablous sum to sell it to the 2nd felow.But 2nd felow doesn't turn up.

"Note. – 1st Felow called himself Honest John!! I dout if I doughtit."

Bones finished his entries, locked away his ledger, and crossed thefloor to the door of the outer office.

He knocked respectfully, and a voice bade him come in.

It is not usual for the principal of a business to knock respectfullyor otherwise on the door of the outer office, but then it is not usualfor an outer office to house a secretary of such transcendentalqualities, virtue, and beauty as were contained in the person of MissMarguerite Whitland.

The girl half turned to the door and flashed a smile which was ofwelcome and reproof.

"Please, Mr. Tibbetts," she pleaded, "do not knock at my door. Don'tyou realize that it isn't done?"

"Dear old Marguerite," said Bones solemnly, "a new era has dawned inthe City. As jolly old Confusicus says: 'The moving finger writes, andthat's all about it.' Will you deign to honour me with your presencein my sanctorum, and may I again beg of you" – he leant his bonyknuckles on the ornate desk which he had provided for her, and lookeddown upon her soberly – "may I again ask you, dear old miss, to let mechange offices? It's a little thing, dear old miss. I'm never, nevergoin' to ask you to dinner again, but this is another matter. I am outof my element in such a place as – " He waved his hand disparaginglytowards his sanctum. "I'm a rough old adventurer, used to sleeping inthe snow – hardships – I can sleep anywhere."

"Anyway, you're not supposed to sleep in the office," smiled the girl, rising.

Bones pushed open the door for her, bowed as she passed, and followedher. He drew a chair up to the desk, and she sat down without furtherprotest, because she had come to know that his attentions, hisextravagant politeness and violent courtesies, signified no more thanwas apparent – namely, that he was a great cavalier at heart.

"I think you ought to know," he said gravely, "that an attempt was madethis morning to rob me of umpteen pounds."

"To rob you?" said the startled girl.

"To rob me," said Bones, with relish. "A dastardly plot, happilyfrustrated by the ingenuity of the intended victim. I don't want toboast, dear old miss. Nothing is farther from my thoughts or wishes, but what's more natural when a fellow is offered a – "

He stopped and frowned.

"Yes?"

"A precious metal refiner's – That's rum," said Bones.

"Rum?" repeated the girl hazily. "What is rum?"

"Of all the rummy old coincidences," said Bones, with restrained andhollow enthusiasm – "why, only this morning I was reading in TwiddlyBits, a ripping little paper, dear old miss – There's a columncalled 'Things You Ought to Know,' which is honestly worth thetwopence."

"I know it," said the girl curiously. "But what did you read?"

"It was an article called 'Fortunes Made in Old Iron,'" said Bones.

"Now, suppose this naughty old refiner – By Jove, it's an idea!"

He paced the room energetically, changing the aspect of his face withgreat rapidity, as wandering thoughts crowded in upon him and vastpossibilities shook their alluring banners upon the pleasant scene heconjured. Suddenly he pulled himself together, shot out his cuffs, opened and closed all the drawers of his desk as though seekingsomething – he found it where he had left it, hanging on a peg behindthe door, and put it on – and said with great determination andbriskness:

"Stivvins' Wharf, Greenhithe. You will accompany me. Bring yournote-book. It is not necessary to bring a typewriter. I will arrangefor a taxicab. We can do the journey in two hours."

"But where are you going?" asked the startled girl.

"To Stivvins'. I am going to look at this place. There is apossibility that certain things have been overlooked. Never lose anopportunity, dear old miss. We magnates make our fortune by neverignoring the little things."

But still she demurred, being a very sane, intelligent girl, with animagination which produced no more alluring mental picture than a coldand draughty drive, a colder and draughtier and even more depressinginspection of a ruined factory, and such small matters as a lost lunch.

But Bones was out of the room, in the street, had flung himself upon ahesitant taxi-driver, had bullied and cajoled him to take a monstrousand undreamt-of journey for a man who, by his own admission, had onlysufficient petrol to get his taxi home, and when the girl came down shefound Bones, with his arm entwined through the open window of the door, giving explicit instructions as to the point on the river whereStivvins' Wharf was to be found.

II

Bones returned to his office alone. The hour was six-thirty, and hewas a very quiet and thoughtful young man. He almost tiptoed into hisoffice, closed and locked the door behind him, and sat at his desk withhis head in his hands for the greater part of half an hour.

Then he unrolled the plan of the wharf, hoping that his memory had notplayed him false. Happily it had not. On the bottom right-hand cornerMr. Staines had written his address! "Stamford Hotel, Blackfriars."

Bones pulled a telegraph form from his stationery rack and indited anurgent wire.

Mr. Staines, at the moment of receiving that telegram, was sitting at asmall round table in the bar of The Stamford, listening in silence tocertain opinions which were being expressed by his two companions inarms and partners in misfortune, the same opinions relating in a mostdisparaging manner to the genius, the foresight, and the constructiveability of one who in his exuberant moments described himself as HonestJohn.

The explosive gentleman had just concluded a fanciful picture of whatwould happen to Honest John if he came into competition with theaverage Bermondsey child of tender years.

Honest John took the telegram and opened it. He read it and gasped.He stood up and walked to the light, and read it again, then returned, his eyes shining, his face slightly flushed.

"You're clever, ain't you?" he asked. "You're wise – I don't think!

Look at this!"

He handed the telegram to the nearest of his companions, who was thetall, thin, and non-explosive partner, and he in turn passed it withouta word to his more choleric companion.

"You don't mean to say he's going to buy it?"

"That's what it says, doesn't it?" said the triumphant Mr. Staines.

"It's a catch," said the explosive man suspiciously.

"Not on your life," replied the scornful Staines. "Where does thecatch come in? We've done nothing he could catch us for?"

"Let's have a look at that telegram again," said the thin man, and, having read it in a dazed way, remarked: "He'll wait for you at theoffice until nine. Well, Jack, nip up and fix that deal. Take thetransfers with you. Close it and take his cheque. Take anything he'llgive you, and get a special clearance in the morning, and, anyway, thebusiness is straight."

Honest John breathed heavily through his nose and staggered from thebar, and the suspicious glances of the barman were, for once, unjustified, for Mr. Staines was labouring under acute emotions.

He found Bones sitting at his desk, a very silent, taciturn Bones, whogreeted him with a nod.

"Sit down," said Bones. "I'll take that property. Here's my cheque."

With trembling fingers Mr. Staines prepared the transfers. It was hewho scoured the office corridors to discover two agitated char-ladieswho were prepared to witness his signature for a consideration.

He folded the cheque for twenty thousand pounds reverently and put itinto his pocket, and was back again at the Stamford Hotel so quicklythat his companions could not believe their eyes.

"Well, this is the rummiest go I have ever known," said the explosiveman profoundly. "You don't think he expects us to call in the morningand buy it back, do you?"