The Crime and the Criminal

  CHAPTER XI.

  WHAT MR. TENNANT HAD WRITTEN.

  There were several letters by the morning's post. One's creditors, atany rate, seemed to be in town. Do those sort of people ever go away?Lily Langdale wanted me to look her up. Confound little Lily Langdale!I had looked her up too much already. Chirpy Mason, writing from MonteCarlo, wanted to know if I could do him a hundred or two. Would I wire?No; I would neither do the one or the other. I knew Chirpy. He hadprobably made the same request to half a dozen more of us. There wereonly two letters among the heap worth looking at. One contained justtwo type-written words, "Buy Boomjopfs." No address, no signature, nonothing. I put that aside. It would entail my going into the City assoon as I could. The other letter was from Haselton Jardine:--

  "SLOANE GARDENS.

  "DEAR TOWNSEND,--If you are in town and this catches you, and you havenothing else to do, come round to-morrow (Monday) and dine _enfamille_. Only Dora! I have something which I rather wish to say toyou.

  "Yours,

  "H. J."

  I was to go down to them at Cockington on Friday. What had he to say tome which would not keep till then, I wondered. But I had nothing elseto do--and there was Dora! So, scribbling a line of acceptance, I toldBurton to take it round. When I opened the paper I found that SirHaselton was leading for the defendants in the great diamond earringlibel case--Mrs. Potter Segundi against Lady Lucretia Jenkyns. I shouldnot have minded being in court to see the fun. They say Mrs. P. S. hasbrass enough to start a foundry. I know, of my own knowledge, that LadyJ. is fairly well equipped. When I am in Queer-street I hope that SirHaselton will be briefed for me.

  It was past one when I got out. I ought to have gone straight to theCity. Instead, I dropped into the Climax, and had just one rubber. Icut Pendarvon against Graeme and Bicketts. Pendarvon and I had the luckof the devil: we scored a bumper. Altogether, with bets, I walked offwith about a pony. When I reached the City it was not very far fromfour. I made for a broker in Austin Friars--a man named Tennant, ThomasTennant--as steady a file as ever I saw. I have done a good deal ofbusiness through him at various times. I don't fancy that he has muchnose of his own; but he keeps quiet, asks no questions, and followsinstructions to the letter.

  Tennant was out. He was not in the House. A clerk thought that he wasat Danby's; he would go and see. I knew where Danby's was--it is one ofthose City restaurants where there is more drank than ate--so I savedthat clerk his trouble, and went myself.

  I spotted Tennant directly I got inside the place--a plump littlefellow, with round, pasty face, and hair which always looked to me asif he soaped it. A mild, unassuming neat-as-ninepence sort of man. Hehad a table to himself. As a rule, in a mild sort of way, he is jollyas a sandboy. Just then it appeared to me that he seemed hipped. Takinga chair on the opposite side of the table, carelessly, thoughtlesslyenough, I took hold of a scrap of paper on which he had beenscribbling. When I glanced at it a thrill went down my back. It was abolt out of the blue. I do not think that in all my life before I wasever so taken by surprise.

  Tennant had been scribbling all over the sheet of paper a woman'sname--"Louise O'Donnel." That my appearance on the scene at thatparticular moment was a pure coincidence, I had, of course, no doubt.It could not have been otherwise. But how came he to have been writingthat name? I could scarcely believe my eyes. I stared at the paper, andthen at him.

  "What is the meaning of this?" I asked.

  "The meaning of what?"

  When I showed him what he had been writing on the piece of paper heseemed to be as much taken aback as I was. At first he wanted me tobelieve that he had been writing a name over and over again withouthaving an idea of what it was that he was doing. I could not make himout at all. He made me feel uneasy.

  So far as I was aware, I was the only person in England who had beenacquainted with the girl's real name. She had always assured me thatsuch was the case, and I had believed her. Everybody, except myself,knew her by her stage name--Milly Carroll. Her father was the onlyrelative she had in the world, and he was in Colorado. Father anddaughter had fallen out. Coming to England with a burlesque companyfrom New York, she had left him on the other side of the world. Ifthis story of hers was true--and I did not, and do not, believe shelied--she was not that sort of girl--how did Mr. Thomas Tennant come tobe in possession of her name?

  I put the question to him point blank.

  "What do you know about Louise O'Donnel?"

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing? Tennant, I say!"

  "I heard it mentioned for the first time in my life last night."

  "Last night?" The coincidence made me shiver again.

  "As I was coming up from Brighton."

  "Brighton?" I had to gasp for breath. "Did you come up last night fromBrighton? By what train?"

  "The 8.40."

  I figured it out in my mind. I should not be surprised if that was theidentical train which had rattled over the arch while Louise and I hadbeen leaning against the gate, just before I did something for theHonour of the Club. And Tennant was in it. "Was the long arm ofcoincidence going to make things pleasant for me?"

  "What did you hear about Louise O'Donnel as you were coming up fromBrighton?"

  "Nothing. The name was casually mentioned in my hearing, that was all.It seems to have stuck in my head."

  It did seem to have stuck in his head--and it seemed to have creptunawares from the ends of his fingers. That something had been said ordone to fix the name in his memory, I did not doubt. What had been saidor done was another matter. Somehow I did not seem to care to questionhim too closely. Generally, in his own placid, fish-like fashion,Tennant is as cool as you please. Then he was as fidgety as if he hadbeen sitting on hot bricks. He said he was ill, and he looked it--ifhis ailment was not more mental than physical I misjudged him.

  I clean forgot all about the Boomjopf shares, which I had come up toinstruct him to buy. I left Tennant in Danby's without having mentionedthem to him from first to last. Indeed, I never thought of them till Ipulled Groeden's tip out of my pocket when I got home to dress fordinner. Seeing the girl's name upon that sheet of paper made me all ofa fluster.

  Scarcely had I left Danby's when I all but cannoned into my scamp of abrother. He seemed as little pleased to see me as I was to see him, butas I had seen and heard nothing of him for the last two years, Ithought that I might as well do the fraternal. He looked seedy enough,and cad enough to boot. The cad was in his face and bearing; theseediness was in his clothes. He had on what looked like, not a second,but a fourth-hand overcoat, trimmed with the usual imitation astrachan.If he had his way, I believe that he would be buried in imitationastrachan.

  "Not in prison then?"

  "No." He fidgeted inside his clothes. "I'm not in prison."

  "Recently come out?"

  "Nor have I recently come out."

  "Or just going in?"

  "Not unless, my dear Reginald, it is to visit you."

  Alexander was cheeky; he must be in funds, although he did not look it.

  "May I ask, my dear Alexander, what means you are at present taking toincrease your fortune?"

  He blew his nose with an old silk handkerchief and a flourish. Did heever do anything without a flourish--even pick a pocket?

  "I don't know, my dear Reginald, that it much matters to you what I amdoing, but I don't mind telling you, in confidence, that I am atpresent devoting my energies to the detection of crime."

  "To what?"

  The idea seemed too funny.

  "To the detection of crime. In other words, I am a private detective,on, I think I may say, a considerable scale."

  "The deuce you are! That is something new."

  "And you--may I ask what you are doing?"

  I stared at Alexander. He certainly was coming on.

  "I'm talking to you." br />
  "I trust that the occupation gives you satisfaction. I regret that I amcompelled to cut it short. My time is valuable. In fact, at this momentI have a pressing appointment with a gentleman well known in Citycircles."

  "A bailiff or a policeman, Alexander? They are both of them well knownin City circles."

  "Probably, my dear Reginald, they are better known to you than they areto me. Good-day."

  "Good-day!"

  He raised his hat about three feet; I raised mine about three inches.We parted, I do believe, for the first time in our lives, on the mostaffable of terms.