The Pauper of Park Lane

you?" asked his private secretaryslowly.

  "He is unscrupulous, and would prove certain things that--well, I--Iadmit to you in strictest confidence, Rolfe, that it would be impossiblefor me to face."

  Charlie stared at him in utter amazement.

  "Then you have satisfied yourself that what I told you is correct?"

  "I disbelieved you when you told me. But I no longer doubt."

  "Why?"

  "Because I have seen him to-day--seen him with my own eyes. He wasstanding outside, there against the railings, watching the house."

  "And did he see you?"

  "He saw and recognised me."

  Charlie gave vent to a low whistle. He recognised the seriousness ofthe situation. As private secretary he was in old Statham's confidenceto a certain extent, but never before had he made such an admission offear as that he had just done.

  "Where is he now?"

  "I don't know. Gone to prepare his coup for my ruin, most probably,"was the old man's response, in a strained unnatural voice. "But listen,Rolfe. I have told you to-day what I would tell no other man. In you Ihave reposed many confidences, because I know you well enough to beconfident that you will never betray them."

  "You honour me, sir, by those words," the young man said. "I endeavourto serve you faithfully as it is my duty. I am not forgetful of allthat you have done for my sister and myself."

  "I know that you are grateful, Rolfe," he said, placing his bony handupon the young man's shoulder. "Therefore I seek your aid in this verydelicate affair. The man Adams has returned from the grave--how, I donot know. So utterly bewildering is it all that I was at first underthe belief that my eyes were deceiving me--that some man had been madeup to resemble him and to impose upon me. Yet there is no imposture.The man whom I know to be dead is here in London, and alive!"

  "But did you actually see him dead?" asked Rolfe, innocently.

  Old Statham started quickly at the question.

  "Er--well--no. I mean, I didn't exactly see him dead myself," hefaltered.

  "Then how are you so very positive that he died?"

  "Well, there was a funeral, a certificate, and insurance money was, Ibelieve, paid."

  "That does not prove that he died," remarked Rolfe. "I thought Iunderstood you to say distinctly when we spoke of it the other day thatyou had actually stood beside the dead body of John Adams, and that youhad satisfied yourself that life was extinct."

  "No! no!" cried the old man, uneasily, his face blanched. "If I led youto suppose that, I was wrong. I meant to imply that, from informationfurnished by others, I was under the belief that he had died."

  Charlie Rolfe was silent. Why had his employer altered his declarationso as to suit the exigencies of the moment?

  He raised his eyes to old Sam's countenance, and saw that it was theface of a man upon whom the shadow of a crime had fallen.

  CHAPTER TWELVE.

  IN WHICH A WOMAN'S HONOUR IS AT STAKE.

  "John Adams has seen you!" exclaimed Rolfe, slowly. "Therefore thesituation is, I understand, one of extreme peril. Is that so?"

  "Exactly," responded the millionaire, in a thin, weak voice. "But byyour aid I may yet extricate myself."

  The younger man saw that the other was full of fear. Never had he seenhis employer so nervous and utterly unstrung. The mystery of it allfascinated him. Statham had unwittingly acknowledged having beenpresent at the presumed death of John Adams, and that in itself was avery suspicious circumstance.

  "Whatever assistance I can give I am quite ready to render it," he said,little dreaming what dire result would attend that offer.

  "Ah, yes!" cried the old man, thankfully, grasping his secretary's hand."I knew you would not refuse, Rolfe. If you succeed I shall owe mylife to you; you understand--my life!" And he looked straight into theyoung man's face, adding, "And Samuel Statham never forgets to repay aservice rendered."

  "I look for no repayment," he said. "You have been so very good to mysister and myself that I owe you a deep debt of gratitude."

  "Ah! your sister. Where is she now?"

  "At Cunnington's, in Oxford Street."

  "Oh, yes! I forgot. I wrote to Cunnington myself regarding her, didn'tI? I hope she's comfortable. If not, tell me. I'm the largestshareholder in that business."

  "You are very kind," replied the young man. "But she always says she ismost comfortable, and all the principals are very kind to her. Ofcourse, it was hard for her at first when she commenced to earn her ownliving. The hours, the confinement, and the rigorous rules were irksometo a girl of her character, always been used as she had to freedom and acountry life."

  "Yes," replied the old man rather thoughtfully. "I suppose so. But ifshe's getting on well, I am quite satisfied. Should she have anycomplaint to make, don't fail to let me know."

  Rolfe thanked him. The old fellow, notwithstanding his eccentricities,was always a generous master.

  There was a pause, during which the millionaire walked to the window,peered out to see if the shabby watcher had returned, and then came backagain to his table.

  "Rolfe," he commenced, as he seated himself, with surprising calmness,"I have spoken more openly to you this afternoon than I have spoken toanyone for many years. First, you must remain in London. Just ringthem up in the City, and tell them to send Sheldon here, and say that hemust leave for Belgrade to-night. I will see him at seven o'clock."

  The secretary took up the transmitter of the private telephone line tothe offices of Statham Brothers in Old Broad Street, and in a fewmoments was delivering the principal's message to the manager.

  "Sheldon will be here at seven for instructions," he said, as hereplaced the transmitter.

  "Then sit down, Rolfe--and listen," the old man commanded, indicating achair at the side of the table.

  The younger man obeyed, and the great financier commenced.

  "You have promised your help, and also complete secrecy, have you not?"

  "I shall say nothing," answered the other, at the same time eager tohear some closed page in the old man's history. "Rely upon mydiscretion."

  He was wondering whether the grey-faced old fellow was aware of thestartling events of the previous evening in Cromwell Road. His spieshad told him of Maud. They perhaps had discovered that amazing truth ofwhat had occurred in that house, now deserted and empty.

  Was it possible that old Statham, being in possession of his secret, didnot now fear to repose confidence in him, for he knew that if he werebetrayed he could on his part make an exposure that must prove bothruinous and fatal. The crafty old financier was not the person to placehimself unreservedly in the hands of any man who could possibly turn hisenemy. He had an ulterior motive, without a doubt. But what it wasCharles Rolfe was unable to discover.

  "The mouth of that man Adams must be closed," said the old man, in aslow, deliberate voice, "and you alone are able to accomplish it. Dothis for me, and I can afford to pay well," and he regarded the youngman with a meaning look.

  Was it possible that he suggested foul play. Rolfe wondered. Was hesuggesting that he should lurk in some dark corner and take the life ofthe shabby wayfarer, who had recently returned to England after a longabsence?

  "It is not a question of payment," Rolfe replied. "It is whether anyeffort of mine can be successful."

  "Yes; I know. I admit, Rolfe, that I was a fool. I ought to havelistened to you when you first told me of his re-appearance, and I oughtto have approached him and purchased his silence. I thought myselfshrewd, and my cautiousness has been my undoing."

  "From the little I know, I fear that the purchase of the fellow'ssilence is now out of the question. A week ago it could have beeneffected, but now he has cast all thought of himself to the winds, andhis only object is revenge."

  "Revenge upon myself," sighed the old man, his face growing a triflepaler as he foresaw what a terrible vengeance was within the power ofthat shabby stranger. "Ah! I know. He will be relentless.
He hasevery reason to be if what has been told him had been true. A manlied--the man who is dead. Therefore the truth--the truth that wouldsave my honour and my life--can never be told," he added, with adesperate look upon his countenance.

  "Then you have been the victim of a liar?" Rolfe said. "Yes--of a manwho, jealous of my prosperity, endeavoured to ruin me by making a falsestatement. But his reward came quickly. I retaliated with my financialstrength, and in a year he was ruined. To recoup himself he committedforgery, was arrested, and six months later died in prison--but withoutconfessing that what he had said concerning me