The Pauper of Park Lane

suppose?"

  "Not--not exactly an old friend. I met him for the first time about amonth or so ago," responded Max.

  "And what do you know of him?"

  "Nothing much except that I believe him to be a man of the highestintegrity and the possessor of many friends interested in high finance."

  "Oh! and what causes you to believe that?"

  "Well, we first met in Paris, where, having mooted the idea of apartnership, he introduced me to several well-known people, among themBaron Tellier, who arranged the match monopoly of Turkey, and HerrHengelmann, of Frankfort, whom, no doubt, you know as the concessionaireof the German railway from the Bosphorus to Bagdad."

  The old man gave vent to a dissatisfied grant.

  "Both men stand very high in the financial world, do they not?" Maxasked.

  "Well--they did," replied old Sam, smiling.

  "Did? What, have they gone under?"

  "No. Only Hengelmann has been in his coffin fully two years, and theBaron died at Nice last winter."

  "What?" cried Max, starting forward.

  "I repeat what I say, Mr Barclay. Your friend Adam has been indulgingin a pretty fiction."

  "Are you sure? Are you quite sure they are dead?"

  "Most certainly. I was staying in the same hotel at Nice when the Barondied, and I followed him to the grave. He was a great friend of mine."

  Max Barclay sat stunned. Until that moment he had believed in Jean Adamand his plausible tales, but he now saw how very cleverly he had beendeceived and imposed upon.

  "You're surprised," he laughed. "But you must remember that you can geta decent suit of gentlemanly clothes for five pounds, and visiting-cardsare only two shillings a hundred. People so often overlook those twoimportant facts in life. Thousands of men can put off their identitywith their clothes."

  "But Adam--do you happen to know him?" Max asked. "If you do, it willsurely be a very friendly act to tell me the truth."

  "Well," replied the elder man with some hesitancy, "I may as well tellyou at once that the Sultan has never given any concession for therailway from Nisch to San Giovanni di Medua to cross Turkish territory--and will never give it. He fears Bulgaria and Servia too much, for henever knows what Power may be behind them. And, after all, who canblame him? Why should he open his gates to an enemy? Albania is alwaysin unrest, for in the north the Christians predominate, and there isbound to be trouble ere long."

  "Then you believe that the whole thing is a fiction?"

  "Most certainly it is. If there was any idea of the Sultan giving anirade, I should most certainly know of it. I have good agents inConstantinople. No. Take it from me that the concession will never begiven. It is not to Turkey's interest to allow the development ofServia and Bulgaria, therefore your friend's pretty tale is all a fairystory."

  "Then why is he pressing me to go out to Constantinople?" Max asked.

  Statham shrugged his shoulders, indicative of ignorance.

  "Perhaps he thinks you will plank down money?" he suggested.

  "He wants nothing until I myself am satisfied with the _bona fides_ ofthe business."

  "Stuff on his part, most likely. He's a past-master of the art."

  "How well do you know him?"

  "Sufficiently well to have nothing to do with him."

  "Then that accounts for his refusal to allow me to confide in you," saidBarclay. "I see the reason now."

  "Of course, act just as you think fit. Only recollect that what I'vetold you is bed-rock fact. The man who calls himself Adam is a personto be avoided."

  "Have you had dealings with him?"

  "Just once--and they had a very unpleasant result."

  He reflected upon certain remarks and criticisms which the Frenchman haduttered concerning Statham and his normal methods. In the light of whathe now knew, he saw that the two men were enemies. It seemed as thoughone man wished to tell him something, and yet was hesitant.

  "Have you put any money into the scheme?" the millionaire asked.

  "Not yet."

  "Then don't. Tell him to take it somewhere else. Better still, tellhim to bring it to me. You need not, however, say that it is I whowarned you. Leave him in the dark in that direction. He's a cleverfellow--extraordinarily clever. Who is with him now?"

  "Well, he has a friend named Lyle--a mining engineer."

  "Leonard Lyle--a hunchback?" asked Statham quickly.

  The millionaire's countenance went a trifle paler, and about the cornersof his thin lips was a hard expression. To him, the seriousness of theconspiracy was only too apparent.

  Those two men intended that he should be driven to take his own life--todie an ignominious death.

  "You've spoken to this man Lyle?" he asked in as steady a voice as hecould.

  "Once or twice. He seems to possess a very intimate knowledge ofServia, Bulgaria, and European Turkey. Is he an adventurer like Adam?"

  "Not exactly," was the rather ambiguous reply. "But his associationwith Adam shows plainly that fraud is intended."

  "But why does he want me to go post-haste out to Turkey?" queried Max,who had risen from his chair in the excitement of this sudden revelationwhich caused his brilliant scheme to vanish into thin air.

  "To induce confidence, I expect he would have introduced you to some menwearing fezzes, and declared them to be Pashas high in favour at theYildiz Kiosk. Then before you left Constantinople he would have heldyou to your bargain to put money into the thing. Oh! never fear, youwould have fallen a victim in one way or another. So it's best that youshould know the character of the two men with whom you are dealing.Take my advice; treat them with caution, but refuse to stir from London.They will, no doubt, use every persuasion to induce you to go, but yourbest course is to hear all their arguments, watch the gradualdevelopment of their scheme, and inform me of it. Will you do it?"

  "Will my information assist you in any way, Mr Statham?"

  "Yes, it will--very materially," the old man answered.

  "I have revealed to you the truth, and I ask you, in return, to renderme this little assistance. What I desire to know, is their movementsdaily, and how they intend to act."

  "Towards whom?"

  "Towards myself."

  "Then they are associated against you, you believe?"

  "I suspect them to be," the old man replied. "I know them to be myenemies. They are, like thousands of other men, jealous of my success,and believe they have a grievance against me--one that is entirelyunfounded."

  "And if I do this will you assist me to obtain knowledge of the reasonwhy Marion Rolfe has been dismissed?" asked Max eagerly.

  The old man hesitated, but only for a second. It was easy enough togive him a letter to Cunnington, and afterwards to telephone to OxfordStreet instructions to the head of the firm to refuse a reply.

  So, consenting, he took a sheet of note-paper, and scribbled a few linesof request to Mr Cunnington, which he handed to Max, saying:

  "There, I hope that will have the desired effect, Mr Barclay. On yourpart, remember, you will keep in with Adam and Lyle, and give me all theinformation you can gather. I know how to repay a friendly servicerendered to me, so you are, no doubt, well aware. You will be welcomehere at any hour. I shall tell Levi to admit you."

  "That's a bargain," the younger man asserted. "When will Rolfe return?"

  "To-morrow, or next day. He's in Paris. Shall I tell him you wish tosee him?"

  "Please."

  "But say nothing regarding Adam or his friend. Our compact is astrictly private one, remember."

  And then Max, grasping the hands of the man whom he believed was hisfriend, placed the note in his pocket and went out into the blazing hotSeptember afternoon.

  As he disappeared along the pavement the old millionaire watched himunseen from behind the blind.

  "To the friendship of that man--that man whom I have wronged--I shallowe my life," he murmured aloud.

  And then, crossing to the tel
ephone on his table, he asked for MrCunnington.

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

  THE CITY OF UNREST.

  Ten days had passed since Charlie had met the mysterious Lorena inParis.

  To both Charlie and Max--though now separated by the breadth of Europe--they had been breathless, anxious, never-to-be-forgotten days.

  The ominous words of Lorena ever recurred to him. Apparently the girlknew far more than she had told him, and her declaration thatconfirmation of Adams's charges would be found beyond thatwhite-enamelled door in Park Lane gripped his senses. He could think ofnothing else.

  She had left him in the Rue de Rivoli, outside the Gardens, refusing