Havoc

  CHAPTER XIII

  STEPHEN LAVERICK'S CONSCIENCE

  Stephen Laverick was a bachelor--his friends called him anincorrigible one. He had a small but pleasantly situated suite ofrooms in Whitehall Court, looking out upon the river. His habitswere almost monotonous in their regularity, and the morningfollowing his late night in the city was no exception to thegeneral rule. At eight o'clock, the valet attached to the suiteknocked at his door and informed him that his bath was ready. Heawoke at once from a sound sleep, sat up in bed, and remembered theevents of the preceding evening.

  At first he was inclined to doubt that slowly stirring effort ofmemory. He was a man of unromantic temperament, unimaginative, andby no means of an adventurous turn of mind. He sought naturallyfor the most reasonable explanation of this strange picture, whichno effort of his will could dismiss from his memory. It was a dream,of course. But the dream did not fade. Slowly it spread itself outso that he could no longer doubt. He knew very well as he sat thereon the edge of his bed that the thing was truth. He, StephenLaverick, a man hitherto of upright character, with a reputation ofwhich unconsciously he was proud, had robbed a dead man, had lookedinto the burning eyes of his murderer, had stolen away with twentythousand pounds of someone else's money. Morally, at anyrate,--probably legally as well,--he was a thief. A glimpse inside hissafe on the part of an astute detective might very easily bring himunder the grave suspicion of being a criminal of altogether deeperdye.

  Stephen Laverick was, in his way, something of a philosopher. Inthe cold daylight, with the sound of the water running into his bath,this deed which he had done seemed to him foolish and reprehensible.Nevertheless, he realized the absolute finality of his action. Thething was done; he must make the best of it. Behaving in every waylike a sensible man, he did not send for the newspapers and searchhysterically for their account of last night's tragedy, but took hisbath as usual, dressed with more than ordinary care, and sat downto his breakfast before he even unfolded the paper. The item forwhich he searched occupied by no means so prominent a position ashe had expected. It appeared under one of the leading headlines,but it consisted of only a few words. He read them with interestbut without emotion. Afterwards he turned to the Stock Exchangequotations and made notes of a few prices in which he was interested.

  He completed in leisurely fashion an excellent breakfast and followedhis usual custom of walking along the Embankment as far as the RoyalHotel, where he called a taxicab and drove to his offices. A littlecrowd had gathered around the end of the passage which led fromCrooked Friars, and Laverick himself leaned forward and lookedcuriously at the spot where the body of the murdered man had lain.It seemed hard to him to reconstruct last night's scene in his mindnow that the narrow street was filled with hurrying men and a streamof vehicles blocked every inch of the roadway. In his early morningmood the thing was impossible. In a moment or two he paid his driverand dismissed him.

  He fancied that a certain relief was visible among his clerks whenhe opened the door at precisely his usual time and with a cheerful"Good-morning!" made his way into the private office. He lit hiscustomary cigarette and dealt rapidly with the correspondence whichwas brought in to him by his head-clerk. Afterwards, as soon as hewas alone, he opened the safe, thrust the contents of that innerdrawer into his breast-pocket, and took up once more his hat andgloves.

  "I am going around to the bank," he told his clerk as he passed out."I shall be back in half-an-hour--perhaps less."

  "Very good, sir," the man answered. "Will Mr. Morrison be here thismorning?"

  Laverick hesitated.

  "No, Mr. Morrison will not be here to-day."

  It was only a few steps to his bankers, and his request for aninterview with the manager was immediately granted. The latterreceived him kindly but with a certain restraint. There are notmany secrets in the city, and Morrison's big plunge on a particularmining share, notwithstanding its steady drop, had been freelycommented upon.

  "What can I do for you, Mr. Laverick?" the banker asked.

  "I am not sure," answered Laverick. "To tell you the truth, I amin a somewhat singular position."

  The banker nodded. He had not a doubt but that he understoodexactly what that position was.

  "You have perhaps heard," Laverick continued slowly, "that my latepartner, Mr. Morrison,--"

  "Late partner?" the manager interrupted.

  Laverick assented.

  "We had a few words last night," he explained "and Mr. Morrisonleft the office with an understanding between us that he should notreturn. You will receive a formal intimation of that during thecourse of the next day or so. We will revert to the matterpresently, if you wish. My immediate business with you is todiscuss the fact that I have to provide something like twentythousand pounds to-day if I decide to take up the purchases of stockwhich Morrison has made."

  "You understand the position, of course, Mr. Laverick, if you failto do so?" the manager remarked gravely.

  "Naturally," Laverick answered. "I am quite aware of the fact thatMorrison acted on behalf of the firm and that I am responsible forhis transactions. He has plunged pretty deeply, though, a greatdeal more deeply than our capital warranted. I may add that I hadnot the slightest idea as to the extent of his dealings."

  The bank manager adopted a sympathetic but serious attitude.

  "Twenty thousand pounds," he declared, "is a great deal of money,Mr. Laverick."

  "It is a great deal of money," Laverick admitted. "I am here toask you to lend it to me."

  The bank manager raised his eyebrows.

  "My dear Mr. Laverick!" he exclaimed reproachfully.

  "Upon unimpeachable security," Laverick continued. The bank managerwas conscious that he had allowed a little start of surprise toescape him, and bit his lip with annoyance. It was entirely contraryto his tenets to display at any time during office hours any sort ofemotion.

  "Unimpeachable security," he repeated. "Of course, if you have thatto offer, Mr. Laverick, although the sum is a large one, it is ourbusiness to see what we can do for you."

  "My security is of the best," Laverick declared grimly. "I havebank-notes here, Mr. Fenwick, for twenty thousand pounds."

  The bank manager was again guilty of an unprofessional action. Hewhistled softly under his breath. A very respectable client hehad always considered Mr. Stephen Laverick, but he had certainlynever suspected him of being able to produce at a pinch such evidenceof means. Laverick smoothed out the notes and laid them upon thetable.

  "Mr. Fenwick," he said, "I believe I am right in assuming that whenone comes to one's bankers, one enters, as it were, into aconfessional. I feel convinced that nothing which I say to you willbe repeated outside this office, or will be allowed to dwell in yourown mind except with reference to this particular transaction betweenyou and me. I have the right, have I not, to take that for granted?"

  "Most certainly," the banker agreed.

  "From a strictly ethical point of view," Laverick went on, "thismoney is not mine. I hold it in trust for its owner, but I hold itwithout any conditions. I have power to make what use I wish ofit, and I choose to-day to use it on my own behalf. Whether I amjustified or not is scarcely a matter, I presume, which concernsthis excellent banking establishment over which you preside so ably.I do not pay these bank-notes in to my account and ask you tocredit me with twenty thousand pounds. I ask you to allow me todeposit them here for seven days as security against an overdraft.You can then advance me enough money to meet my engagements ofto-day."

  The banker took up the notes and looked them through, one by one.They were very crisp, very new, and absolutely genuine.

  "This is somewhat an extraordinary proceeding, Mr. Laverick," hesaid.

  "I have no doubt that it must seem so to you," Laverick admitted."At the same time, there the money is. You can run no risk. If Iam exceeding my moral right in making use of these notes, it is Iwho will have to pay. Will you do as I ask?"

&
nbsp; The banker hesitated. The transaction was somewhat a peculiar one,but on the face of it there could be no possible risk. At the sametime, there was something about it which he could not understand.

  "Your wish, Mr. Laverick," he remarked, looking at him thoughtfully,"seems to be to keep these notes out of circulation."

  Laverick returned his gaze without flinching.

  "In a sense, that is so," he assented.

  "On the whole," the banker declared, "I should prefer to creditthem to your account in the usual way."

  "I am sorry," Laverick answered, "but I have a sentimental feelingabout it. I prefer to keep the notes intact. If you cannot followout my suggestion, I must remove my account at once. This isn't athreat, Mr. Fenwick,--you will understand that, I am sure. It issimply a matter of business, and owing to Morrison's speculationsI have no time for arguments. I am quite satisfied to remain inyour hands, but my feeling in the matter is exactly as I have stated,and I cannot change. If you are to retain my account, myengagements for to-day must be met precisely in the way I havepointed out."

  The banker excused himself and left the room for a few moments.When he returned, he shrugged his shoulders with the air of one whois giving in to an unreasonable client.

  "It shall be as you say, Mr. Laverick," he announced. "The notesare placed upon deposit. Your engagements to-day up to twentythousand pounds shall be duly honored."

  Laverick shook hands with him, talked for a moment or two aboutindifferent matters, and strolled back towards his office. He hadrather the sense of a man who moves in a dream, who is living,somehow, in a life which doesn't belong to him. He was doing theimpossible. He knew very well that his name was in every one'smouth. People were looking at him sympathetically, wondering howhe could have been such a fool as to become the victim of anirresponsible speculator. No one ever imagined that he would beable to keep his engagements. And he had done it. The pricemight be a great one, but he was prepared to pay. At any momentthe sensational news might be upon the placards, and the wholeworld might know that the man who had been murdered in CrookedFriars last night had first been robbed of twenty thousand pounds.So far he had felt himself curiously free from anything in theshape of direct apprehensions. Already, however, the shadow wasbeginning to fall. Even as he entered his office, the sight of astranger offering office files for sale made him start. He halfexpected to feel a hand upon his shoulder, a few words whispered inhis ear. He set his teeth tight. This was his risk and he musttake it.

  For several hours he remained in his office, engaged in a schemefor the redirection of its policy. With the absence of Morrison,too, there were other changes to be made,--changes in the natureof the business they were prepared to handle, limits to be fixed.It was not until nearly luncheon time that the telephone, thesimultaneous arrival of several clients, and the breathless entryof his own head-clerk rushing in from the house, told him what wasgoing on.

  "'Unions' have taken their turn at last!" the clerk announced, inan excited tone. "They sagged a little this morning, but sinceeleven they have been going steadily up. Just now there seems tobe a boom. Listen."

  Laverick heard the roar of voices in the street, and nodded. Hewas prepared to be surprised at nothing.

  "They were bound to go within a day or two," he remarked. "Morrisonwasn't an absolute idiot."

  The luncheon hour passed. The excitement in the city grew. Bythree o'clock, ten thousand pounds would have covered all ofLaverick's engagements. Just before closing-time, it was evendoubtful whether he might not have borrowed every penny withoutsecurity at all. He took it all quite calmly and as a matter ofcourse. He left the office a little earlier than usual, and everyman whom he met stopped to slap him on the back and chaff him. Heescaped as soon as he could, bought the evening papers, found ataxicab, and as soon as he had started spread them open. It wasa remarkable proof of the man's self-restraint that at no timeduring the afternoon had he sent out for one of these early editions.He turned them over now with firm fingers. There was absolutely nofresh news. No one had come forward with any suggestion as to theidentity of the murdered man. All day long the body had lain inthe Mortuary, visited by a constant stream of the curious, butpresumably unrecognized. Laverick could scarcely believe the wordshe read. The thing seemed ludicrously impossible. The twentythousand pounds must have come from some one. Why did they keepsilence? What was the mystery about it? Could it be that they werenot in a position to disclose the fact? Curiously enough, thisunnatural absence of news inspired him with something which wasalmost fear. He had taken his risks boldly enough. Now that Fatewas playing him this unexpectedly good turn, he was conscious of agrowing nervousness. Who could he have been, this man? Whencecould he have derived this great sum? One person at least mustknow that he had been robbed--the man who murdered him must knowit. A cold shiver passed through Laverick's veins at the thought.Somewhere in London there must be a man thirsting for his blood,a man who had committed a murder in vain and been robbed of hisspoil.

  Laverick had no engagements for that evening, but instead of goingto his club he drove straight to his rooms, meaning to change alittle early for dinner and go to a theatre, lie found there,however, a small boy waiting for him with a note in his hand. Itwas addressed in pencil only, and his name was printed upon it.

  Laverick tore it open with a haste which he only imperfectlyconcealed. There was something ominous to him in those printedcharacters. Its contents, however, were short enough.

  DEAR LAVERICK,I must see you. Come the moment you get this. Come without fail,for your own sake and mine. A. M.

  Laverick looked at the boy. His fingers were trembling, but itwas with relief. The note was from Morrison.

  "There is no address here," he remarked.

  "The gent said as I was to take you back with me," the boy answered.

  "Is it far?" Laverick asked.

  "Close to Red Lion Square," the boy declared. "Not more nor fiveminutes in one of them taxicabs. The gent said we was to takeone. He is in a great hurry to see you."

  Laverick did not hesitate a moment.

  "Very well," he said, "we'll start at once."

  He put on his hat again and waited while the commissionaire calledthem a taxicab.

  "What address?" he asked.

  "Number 7, Theobald Square," the boy said. Laverick nodded andrepeated the address to the driver.

  "What the dickens can Morrison be doing in a part like that!" hethought, as they passed up Northumberland Avenue.