A Woman Perfected

"Of course I don't object to your coming again to-morrow; you'll hear of it if you don't."

"But in case I should be prevented, don't you think you'd better give me an extra kiss or two?"

"Frank! I'm always kissing you."

"Not always; sometimes I'm kissing you."

"You'll soon grow tired."

"Shall I? Be careful what you say! you'll be punished if you say it."

"I hope you never will grow tired."

"Sweetheart, you mustn't even say it in jest!"

The rest was that sort of talk which we have most of us talked once; those of us who haven't are to be pitied; it is a kind of talk which is well worth talking. Then Mr. Clifford went on to Bloomsbury Mansions, which was Joseph Oldfield's London address; indeed, so far as his manager knew, it was the proprietor of Peter Piper's Popular Pills' only address. As usual he found the porter in the entrance hall; of him he made inquiry.

"Well, Coles, any news of Mr. Oldfield?"

In the porter's manner, as he replied, there was a significance which Mr. Clifford did not understand.

"I can't say that there's any news of Mr. Oldfield exactly; but there's something going on."

"Going on? What do you mean?"

"In his flat."

"In his flat! What's going on in his flat?"

"That's more than I can tell you, sir; but there's some one in there; in fact, there's two people in there. One of them says he's Mr. Oldfield's solicitor; I don't know who the other is, but he may be another solicitor for all I can tell; he looks as if he might be something in that line."

Frank Clifford opened his eyes.

"His solicitor? What solicitor? What's his name?"

"Seemed to me he was shy about giving his name; but when I made it clear that he wasn't going up unless he did, he said his name was Nash-Herbert Nash. He's quite a young chap-younger than the other, though he's not old."

"Nash? Herbert Nash? I never heard Mr. Oldfield speak of a solicitor named Nash; but of course he may have a dozen solicitors of whom I know nothing. How did they get in? Did you let them in?"

"Not me; they brought Mr. Oldfield's own key; Mr. Nash had it."

"That looks as if they'd at least heard from Mr. Oldfield quite recently, which is more than I have. It's lucky I happened to come just now. Take me up, Coles; I should like to see Mr. Nash."

The porter said, as they were stepping into the lift-

"I hope, sir, there's nothing wrong with Mr. Oldfield-that he's not ill, or anything like that; but it looks odd his solicitor coming instead of him, and that without giving any notice."

"It doesn't necessarily follow, Coles, that there's anything wrong with him on that account; most probably Mr. Oldfield is abroad, and has sent his solicitor instructions, in order to carry out which Mr. Nash has to visit his flat."

The lift stopped; the porter pointed to a door.

"I hope you're right, sir; I should be sorry to hear that anything had happened to Mr. Oldfield; to my thinking he's the pleasantest gentleman we've got in the Mansions, and I don't care who hears me say so. That's his flat, sir. You'll find them in there now. Shall I ring, sir?"

"No; I'll ring."

Mr. Clifford rang.

CHAPTER XXIX

IN JOSEPH OLDFIELD'S FLAT

The idea was Morgan's.

"We're going to call at Bloomsbury Mansions to begin with; that's to be the first move in our plan of campaign." Herbert Nash looking a note of interrogation, Mr. Morgan condescended to explain. "How many times am I to tell you that Bloomsbury Mansions was where Mr. Joseph Oldfield lived when he was in town? When he was there he was Peter Piper's Popular Pills; when he wasn't there if you'd talked to him about pills I dare say he wouldn't have known what you meant."

"But why should we go to Bloomsbury Mansions?"

"Doesn't your own common-sense tell you, my dear Nash, that the more a man knows about the game he's going to play the better chance he has of winning? Certainly it does, because you're one of the cleverest men I know. Very well then; if you and I can manage to be alone together in that flat for, say, half-an-hour, there's very little about Joseph Oldfield which, at the end of that time, we shan't know. Unless I'm mistaken, that's where the key to the situation is; it must be somewhere, and I tell you it's there. That's where all his business papers are, which you and Baynard couldn't find at Cloverlea; his books, his accounts, the lists of his securities; perhaps some of the securities themselves; and, what's more, the whole financial history of those immortal pills. We shall be able to find out what exactly Mr. Frank Clifford's position is, and how we shall best be able to get at him. I'm no gamester; I object to gambling on principle; yet I'm willing to bet a trifle that after I've been there half-an-hour I'll be in a position-with the aid of what I know already-to squash Mr. Frank Clifford between my finger and thumb; and between us, my boy, we'll have Peter Piper's Popular Pills, and the pile they represent, lying at our feet."

"I tell you again, Morgan, what I've told you before, that I think you pitch your anticipations too high; there are all sorts of difficulties in the way which you don't seem to appreciate. Anyhow how do you intend to get into this flat? do you propose to commit burglary?"

"Am I a criminal? a felon? I've been an honest man all my life, and I mean to die an honest man. No, my dear Nash, we're going in through the front door, in broad daylight, before the eyes of the whole staff of the Mansions, if the whole staff chooses to look on, and, as about flats they're mostly a prying lot, they may do; we're going to let ourselves in with Mr. Joseph Oldfield's own private and particular latch-key, and a very private and particular latch-key it is. I lay-betting again! you see, Nash, how a bad habit, once indulged in, grows on one-that, knowing what kind of people they are about flats, he had both lock and key specially made for him; and here that key is."

He held out a small and curious-looking key, of the Bramah type. Mr. Nash eyed it dubiously, as if it were something which he would rather leave alone.

"How do you know it is the key? and where did you get it from?"

"Question No. 2 first, as to where I got it. When the late Donald Lindsay was seized with that most unfortunate stroke I assisted in undressing him; afterwards I folded up his clothes and put them away, and, in the ordinary course of my duty, I examined the pockets. In a small and ingeniously placed pocket inside his waistcoat-which the commonplace searcher would have overlooked-I found this key, secreted. That set me thinking. You will observe that on the tiny ring to which it is attached there is a number. When I learnt certain facts I caused inquiries to be made of a firm which I happen to know manufactures keys like this, asking how long it would take them to make Mr. Joseph Oldfield a duplicate key to his fiat in Bloomsbury Mansions, quoting this number. They replied to the effect that they could let him have another key in four-and-twenty hours; so that's how I know that this is the key to the flat in Bloomsbury Mansions."

"You've a roundabout way of your own of finding out things."

"Roundabout ways are sometimes the shortest, and the safest. Now, my dear Nash, you and I are going together to Bloomsbury Mansions; you will be the bearer of the key; you will show the key to the porter who we shall probably find there; you will tell him that you are Mr. Oldfield's solicitor-which you are; let us keep to the strict and literal truth; he will say 'Walk in!' and, when we have walked in, I think that the rest you can leave to me."

Herbert Nash did not like Mr. Morgan's little plan; he disliked it very much, and said so with considerable force of language, which the gentleman to whom it was addressed did not at all resent. He simply smiled, and persuaded Mr. Nash; having means of persuasion at his command which that person seemed most unwillingly to feel that he was not in a position to resist; the result being that, as we have heard, the pair did gain access to the flat in Bloomsbury Mansions; the porter, as Mr. Morgan had prophesied, looking on as they went in. When they had entered they found themselves in a fair-sized hall.

"I wonder," said Nash, as if struck by the silence of the place, "how he managed for servants."

"The flat people provided service, I expect; they cater, and do everything for tenants if they're wanted to."

"Do you mean to say that he lived here all alone?"

"Generally, I fancy; though when the humour took him he may have kept up any sort of an establishment for all I know; I'll be able to tell you more on that head when I've been over the place. Now let me see. From what I know of the arrangements of flats I should say that that room over there was his own particular apartment." He moved to the door to which he referred. "Locked; however, there's the key in the lock, and it turns quite easily." He threw it open. "Right I am! Nash, this is Joseph Oldfield's Ali Baba's treasure-cave; perhaps presently you'll be fingering some of his precious things. But before we start at that let's see what's behind these other doors; I always like to know the lay of the land before I commence actual operations." Mr. Morgan began opening door after door, glancing at what was behind each, then shutting it again; Herbert Nash stood in the hall and watched. "Looks like a drawing-room; what did he want with a drawing-room, a lone-lorn bachelor? Seem to be some nice things in it too. A bedroom, furnished up to the knocker. My word! that bed cost money; he lay well. Bathroom; spared nothing even over his bath. Dining-room; nothing cheap about that either; he spent money upon this place; I suppose he walked straight out of the bath to his food. Another bedroom; everything in the palest pink; that's meant for a woman's occupation I'll swear. I wonder who it was meant for? Looks as if it had never been lived in. What are those over the way? Domestic offices, I take it; kitchen; yes, and the rest of it, I know; we'll pay attention to you perhaps a trifle later. Now we'll return to Ali Baba's treasure-cave. Come along, Nash."

Mr. Nash followed him into the room; he entered with what seemed dragging footsteps, glancing round, when he was in, with a shame-faced air.

"Morgan," he protested, "I don't like this; I don't care what you say, I don't like it; if we're not committing burglary, we're doing something which is not far off."

"Don't talk nonsense; you a lawyer! and talking about burglary! stuff! If you imagine, Mr. Nash, that I'm the sort of person who would commit burglary you're mistaken. Haven't you got all your explanations pat? You've as much right to be here as any man on this side the grave. Very nice room I call this; very nice; well adapted for a gentleman's occupation. The late Oldfield had a pretty taste in bric-a-brac; like Mr. Donald Lindsay, he'd a good eye for a promising investment. I'm a bit of an authority on the subject myself, so I know. There's a pair of powder blue vases over there-both Oldfield and Lindsay seem to have had a liking for powder blue-which wouldn't be out of the way at a thousand. And unless I'm mistaken that cabinet in the corner is a genuine Boule; Oldfield wasn't likely to have anything imitation about his place; if it is I should like to have the coin it's worth in my pocket; perhaps we shall have it in both our pockets before very long, eh, Nash? What do you think? My dear boy, the contents of this room, the mere trimmings, so to speak, are worth a small fortune in themselves, you can take it from me; I was quite right in calling it Ali Baba's treasure-cave."

"Morgan, look at this!"

"Look at what? Hello! what's that?"

Nash was pointing to a large framed photograph, which stood upon a centre table.

"It's Miss Lindsay; it's his daughter."

"So it is; and a fine photograph too; and a good likeness."

"She-she was with him even when he was here."

There was an odd catch in his voice; Mr. Morgan was as unmoved as ever.

"You mean her effigy was."

"And-and look at that portrait over the mantel."

"Rather a fine bit of painting; quite decent; good colour; clever drawing; face seems alive."

"Can't you see who it is? It's his wife."

"Never saw the lady; but I shouldn't be surprised; there's no mistaking the likeness to the girl. So while he was living a double life he was living it with his wife and child; queer thing human nature."

"Morgan, I feel as if those women were looking at us."

"Looking at us? What do you mean?"

"I-I'm sure they can see us; look how they're staring!"

"Staring! Nash! Stop that! One would think you'd been drinking; or perhaps it's a nip of something you want; there ought to be a decanter somewhere about."

"I want nothing; it would make no difference."

"Then let's get to business. I've a theory; you listen, and tell me what you think of it. From what we know of the late Oldfield I rather infer that when he left the flat he left the keys of all these drawers, and cupboards, and things, behind him; that's the kind of thing he would do; and I know that they weren't at Cloverlea; I'm guessing that they're somewhere about the place at this moment. Now what's your idea of the kind of hiding-place he'd choose?"

"I don't know; and I don't care."

"What do you mean by you don't care? You seem to be in a nice mood, my lad."

"I'll not touch a thing here; nothing!"

"Won't you? Then don't! Who asked you? I'll do all the touching that's wanted; only-mind! if you shirk now you'll pay for it when the time for sharing comes."

"I'm not quite the scoundrel you take it for granted that I am."

"No, you're another and a worse kind, you're a white-livered cur. You do the sneak game, when you think it's safe, for pennies; but when it comes to the man's game, for something worth having, you whine. I can see that I shall have to talk to you as I haven't done yet before you really do begin to find out where you are; but I haven't time to do it now. Where's he likely to have put those keys? Anyhow we ought to be able to get at his writing-table drawers without them; I shouldn't say that there was anything very special about their locks." He took something out of his pocket which he inserted in the keyhole of the top drawer. "It only wants a little-a little management. I thought so; that's done it; drawer No. 1." He drew the top drawer open, and instantly pushed it back again. "What's that?"

There was the sound of an electric bell.

"It's-it's somebody ringing."

"I know it's somebody ringing; I'm not deaf, am I? I don't need you to tell me that it's somebody ringing; but who's ringing? Who knows that we're here?"

"Perhaps it's the porter; or somebody connected with the Mansions."

The two men stood staring at each other; Nash white-faced. The bell was heard again.

"You go and see who's there; if it's the porter, or any one of that sort, you bluff him off. And mind, if you make a mess of things through funk, it'll be you who'll pay."

"I'm not afraid, Mr. Morgan; at least, not in the sense you mean."

Herbert Nash went to the front door; Morgan remained in the room, listening. Without was a young man; behind him was the porter.

"I beg your pardon," said the young man; "but the porter tells me that Mr. Oldfield's solicitor, Mr. Nash, is here; are you Mr. Nash?"

"I am."

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Clifford-Frank Clifford; I am Mr. Oldfield's manager-at Marlborough Buildings; possibly he has mentioned my name to you."

A voice came from within-Morgan's.

"Certainly he has mentioned your name to us, Mr. Clifford; we know it very well, and all about you. Step in, you're the very man we want to see. Nash, let Mr. Clifford in."

After what seemed to be a moment's hesitation Mr. Nash drew the door wider open, so as to permit of Clifford's entering. When he was in the door was shut.

CHAPTER XXX

WHEN THIEVES FALL OUT

"Come in here, Mr. Clifford; it's a very fortunate chance your dropping in on us like this; you couldn't have arranged it better if you'd tried. I've no doubt Mr. Nash is glad to see you, and I'm quite sure I am."

As Clifford followed Morgan into the sitting-room he eyed him a little askance.

"To whom have I the pleasure of speaking?"

"I'm Mr. Oldfield's most intimate friend; I know more about his affairs than any man living."

"May I ask your name?"

"Morgan; Stephen Morgan."

"Are you also a solicitor?"

"Not yet, exactly; I think I may describe myself as Mr. Oldfield's confidential agent. Come in, Nash; don't stop out there; then we can have the door closed-it'll be snugger."

Mr. Nash had stayed in the hall, as if unwilling to associate himself with Morgan's reception of the new-comer; indeed from his bearing one might almost have suspected him of an inclination to march out of the flat, and leave Morgan to deal with Mr. Clifford; possibly he was deterred by the prosaic accident that his hat was in the sitting-room. When Morgan bade him go in he went in, and Morgan closed the door behind him. Clifford looked from one to the other, as if there was something in the attitude of the two men which he could not make out.

"May I ask what you gentlemen are doing here?"

"You may ask; but, so far as I can see, it's no business of yours."

"Quite so; still-at the same time-"

"Yes, Mr. Clifford; at the same time?"

"I wondered."

"There's no harm in your wondering, Mr. Clifford; none at all."

Mr. Clifford turned to Nash, as if he preferred his appearance to Morgan's.

"Can you tell me, Mr. Nash, where Mr. Oldfield is? or how I can place myself in communication with him? As you are possibly aware, he has not been at the office now for some time, and his continued absence-and I may add, silence, because I have heard nothing from him-is occasioning much inconvenience."

"To whom?"

This was Morgan. Clifford seemed to hesitate, then replied-"To me."

"To you? Mr. Oldfield hasn't been in the habit of studying your convenience, has he, Mr. Clifford?"

The new-comer flushed, as if he felt that the other's words were meant unpleasantly. When he answered he looked the speaker straight in the face.

"Mr. Oldfield has been in the habit of studying not only my convenience, but every one's convenience, Mr. Morgan; if you suppose the contrary, I know him better than you do. And, just now, the circumstances are peculiar. I am to be married next week, and I can hardly carry out in their entirety the arrangements I have made unless I know what Mr. Oldfield's movements are likely to be."

"I see; you are to be married next week?"

"Mr. Oldfield knows that I am to be married next week."

"Does he? What's the lady's name?"

"Mr. Oldfield also knows the lady's name; I told him."

"Did you? Then I fancy he's forgotten."

"I never knew Mr. Oldfield forget anything that was of importance to any one in whom he was interested; so I take leave to doubt your fancy, Mr. Morgan."

Mr. Morgan looked at the speaker, for some moments, in rather a peculiar way; then he thrust his hands deeper into his trousers pockets, leaned back his head, and laughed. Clifford flushed again.

"What is the jest, Mr. Morgan?"

"Jest? Clifford, you're a funny one! you're all the jest I want."

"Sir!"

"I give you my word, my dear fellow-" Morgan advanced, with the apparent intention of laying his hand upon the other's shoulder; Clifford retreated; Morgan stared. "What's the matter? Why do you draw back?"

Clifford's manner was courteously frigid.

"You will be able to say anything you wish to say to me from where you are."

"Oh yes, I'm quite able to say to you all I wish from where I am; or from anywhere. Don't you think, Mr. Clifford, you're cutting it a trifle fine?"

"I don't understand."

"No? Surely you're not dull. I beg you to believe I'm not. Haven't I told you I'm Mr. Oldfield's confidential agent?"

"You have, sir; though what especial interest that fact should have for me I still fail to understand; and yet I believe that I am not dull beyond the average man. Mr. Nash, while Mr. Morgan is endeavouring to find words with which to convey his meaning to my comprehension, may I again ask you how I can place myself in immediate communication with Mr. Oldfield?"

Before Nash could answer, Morgan made a hasty movement towards the speaker, crying-

"You miserable hypocrite! trying to play the innocent with us! asking how you can place yourself in communication with Mr. Oldfield, when you know he's dead!"

"Dead! Mr. Oldfield dead, Mr. Morgan!"

"Stop that game of pretending, or I shan't be able to keep my hands off you! Not only is Mr. Oldfield dead, and you know it, but you killed him!"

"Killed him! I! Mr. Nash, is your friend sane?"

"Did ever rogue play the hypocrite so brazenly? and actually I've one of the weapons with which he killed him on me! and here it is. You killed him, Mr. Clifford, with that."

Morgan held out a slip of blue paper on which there was some writing.

"With that? And what is that? It looks to me rather a singular weapon with which to commit murder."

"Does it? you sneering villain! When Brown does all in his power to make of Smith an honest man, and Smith turns out to be a blackguard and a thief, do you think that isn't a blow to Brown? It was that kind of blow killed Joseph Oldfield; it was the shock of learning that you were a forger."

"Learning that I was a forger! Mr. Morgan, you-you said just now that you found it difficult to keep your hands off me; now I'm finding it difficult to keep mine off you. What justification have you for the statement you have just made, that I am a forger?"

"Isn't that justification enough?"

Again Morgan held out the slip of paper.

"I repeat the question I put to you just now-what is that?"

"It's news to you that it's one of the bills you forged?"

"One? Do you charge me with forging others?"

"I don't know what you got for them, Mr. Clifford, but you forged bills to the face value of over forty thousand pounds. Are incidents of the kind of such frequent occurrence in your career that it is necessary to recall this one to your recollection?"

"And do you seriously accuse me of forging bills for more than forty thousand pounds? Was ever anything heard like it?"

"Often; there have been plenty of scoundrels before you, if you find that any consolation."

"Don't imagine that because I endeavour to retain my self-control in the midst of this-this sudden nightmare that I am incapable of showing resentment; if that is what you imagine, you are wrong, Mr. Morgan. What grounds have you for asserting that I forged that bill, or any bill?"

"Mr. Clifford, drop the mask; the time for bluff has gone; try to be candid. You see, Mr. Nash and I know all about it."

"Do you? It so happens that I don't. I ask you again, what grounds have you for asserting that I've committed forgery? Don't be vague; be specific."

"I happen to know the man to whom you gave the bills."

"Do you? What's his name?"

"Sir Henry Trevor."

"Sir Henry Trevor? Harry Trevor? Do you venture to affirm that Harry Trevor says he got forged bills from me, or any bills?"

"He took them to the discounters; when they asked where he got them from, he said they came from you. What he got for them, or what share you had of the plunder, I can't say; at present I'd rather not know; these are details which may come out at the Old Bailey."

Up to then Frank Clifford had kept his countenance to a wonderful degree; but when Mr. Morgan spoke of the Old Bailey his lips flickered, as they might have done had he been suddenly attacked by St. Vitus' Dance; the movement passed, he was calm again.

"Will you let me look at that bill you're holding? I'll not touch it; I merely want to look."

"I'll take care you don t touch it. You can look at an old friend.

"What is the signature it bears?"

"Don't know? I'll tell you. Donald Lindsay, of Cloverlea."

"Donald Lindsay, of Cloverlea? And who is Donald Lindsay, of Cloverlea?"

"Really, Mr. Clifford, when you didn't become an actor what the stage lost! and now-a-days there are so few actors who are to the manner born. It's the very gist of your offending, you sly scamp, that you made such use of the knowledge you had surreptitiously obtained that Joseph Oldfield, of Peter Piper's Popular Pills, was Donald Lindsay, of Cloverlea."