CHAPTER V
JOHN MINUTE'S LEGACY
La Rochefoucauld has said that prudence and love are inconsistent. MayNuttall, who had never explored the philosophies of La Rochefoucauld,had nevertheless seen that quotation in the birthday book of anacquaintance, and the saying had made a great impression upon her. Shewas twenty-one years of age, at which age girls are most impressionableand are little influenced by the workings of pure reason. They areprepared to take their philosophies ready-made, and not disinclined toaccept from others certain rigid standards by which they measure theirown elastic temperaments.
Frank Merrill was at once a comfort and the cause of a certainhalf-ashamed resentment, since she was of the age which resentsdependence. The woman who spends any appreciable time in the discussionwith herself as to whether she does or does not love a man can only haveher doubts set at rest by the discovery of somebody whom she lovesbetter. She liked Frank, and liked him well enough to accept the littlering which marked the beginning of a new relationship which was notexactly an engagement, yet brought to her friendship a glamour which ithad never before possessed.
She liked him well enough to want his love. She loved him little enoughto find the prospect of an early marriage alarming. That she did notunderstand herself was not remarkable. Twenty-one has not the experienceby which the complexities of twenty-one may be straightened out and madevisible.
She sat at breakfast, puzzling the matter out, and was a littledisturbed and even distressed to find, in contrasting the men, that ofthe two she had a warmer and a deeper feeling for Jasper Cole. Her alarmwas due to the recollection of one of Frank's warnings, almostprophetic, it seemed to her now:
"That man has a fascination which I would be the last to deny. I findmyself liking him, though my instinct tells me he is the worst enemy Ihave in the world."
If her attitude toward Frank was difficult to define, more remarkablewas her attitude of mind toward Jasper Cole. There was somethingsinister--no, that was not the word--something "frightening" about him.He had a magnetism, an aura of personal power, which seemed to paralyzethe will of any who came into conflict with him.
She remembered how often she had gone to the big library at Weald Lodgewith the firm intention of "having it out with Jasper." Sometimes it wasa question of domestic economy into which he had obtruded hisviews--when she was sixteen she was practically housekeeper to heradopted uncle--perhaps it was a matter of carriage arrangement. Once ithad been much more serious, for after she had fixed up to go with amerry picnic party to the downs, Jasper, in her uncle's absence and onhis authority, had firmly but gently forbidden her attendance. Was it anaccident that Frank Merrill was one of the party, and that he was comingdown from London for an afternoon's fun?
In this case, as in every other, Jasper had his way. He even convincedher that his view was right and hers was wrong. He had pooh-poohed onthis occasion all suggestion that it was the presence of Frank Merrillwhich had induced him to exercise the veto which his extraordinaryposition gave to him. According to his version, it had been theinclusion in the party of two ladies whose names were famous in thetheatrical world which had raised his delicate gorge.
May thought of this particular incident as she sat at breakfast, andwith a feeling of exasperation she realized that whenever Jasper had sethis foot down he had never been short of a plausible reason for opposingher.
For one thing, however, she gave him credit. Never once had he spokendepreciatingly of Frank.
She wondered what business brought Jasper to such an unsavoryneighborhood as that in which she had seen him. She had all a woman'scuriosity without a woman's suspicions, and, strangely enough, she didnot associate his presence in this terrible neighborhood or hismysterious comings and goings with anything discreditable to himself.She thought it was a little eccentric in him, and wondered whether he,too, was running a "little mission" of his own, but dismissed that ideasince she had received no confirmation of the theory from the peoplewith whom she came into contact in that neighborhood.
She was halfway through her breakfast when the telephone bell rang, andshe rose from the table and crossed to the wall. At the first word fromthe caller she recognized him.
"Why, uncle!" she said. "Whatever are you doing in town?"
The voice of John Minute bellowed through the receiver:
"I've an important engagement. Will you lunch with me at one-thirty atthe Savoy?"
He scarcely waited for her to accept the invitation before he hung uphis receiver.
The commissioner of police replaced the book which he had taken from theshelf at the side of his desk, swung round in his chair, and smiledquizzically at the perturbed and irascible visitor.
The man who sat at the other side of the desk might have beenfifty-five. He was of middle height, and was dressed in a somewhatviolent check suit, the fit of which advertised the skill of the greattailor who had ably fashioned so fine a creation from so unlovely apattern.
He wore a low collar which would have displayed a massive neck but forthe fact that a glaring purple cravat and a diamond as big as a hazelnutdirected the observer's attention elsewhere. The face was an unusualone. Strong to a point of coarseness, the bulbous nose, the thick,irregular lips, the massive chin all spoke of the hard life which JohnMinute had spent. His eyes were blue and cold, his hair a thick andunruly mop of gray. At a distance he conveyed a curious illusion ofrefinement. Nearer at hand, his pink face repelled one by its crudities.He reminded the commissioner of a piece of scene painting that pleasedfrom the gallery and disappointed from the boxes.
"You see, Mr. Minute," said Sir George suavely, "we are rather limitedin our opportunities and in our powers. Personally, I should be mosthappy to help you, not only because it is my business to help everybody,but because you were so kind to my boy in South Africa; the letters ofintroduction you gave to him were most helpful."
The commissioner's son had been on a hunting trip through Rhodesia andBarotseland, and a chance meeting at a dinner party with the Rhodesianmillionaire had produced these letters.
"But," continued the official, with a little gesture of despair,"Scotland Yard has its limitations. We cannot investigate the cause ofintangible fears. If you are threatened we can help you, but the merefact that you fancy there is come sort of vague danger would not justifyour taking any action."
John Minute hitched about in his chair.
"What are the police for?" he asked impatiently. "I have enemies, SirGeorge. I took a quiet little place in the country, just outsideEastbourne, to get away from London, and all sorts of new people areprying round us. There was a new parson called the other day for asubscription to some boy scouts' movement or other. He has been hanginground my place for a month, and lives at a cottage near Polegate. Whyshould he have come to Eastbourne?"
"On a holiday trip?" suggested the commissioner.
"Bah!" said John Minute contemptuously. "There's some other reason.I've had him watched. He goes every day to visit a woman at a hotel--aconfederate. They're never seen in public together. Then there's apeddler, one of those fellows who sell glass and repair windows; nobodyknows anything about him. He doesn't do enough business to keep a flyalive. He's always hanging round Weald Lodge. Then there's a MissPaines, who says she's a landscape gardener, and wants to lay out thegrounds in some newfangled way. I sent her packing about her business,but she hasn't left the neighborhood."
"Have you reported the matter to the local police?" asked thecommissioner.
Minute nodded.
"And they know nothing suspicious about them?"
"Nothing!" said Mr. Minute briefly.
"Then," said the other, smiling, "there is probably nothing knownagainst them, and they are quite innocent people trying to get aliving. After all, Mr. Minute, a man who is as rich as you are mustexpect to attract a number of people, each trying to secure some of yourwealth in a more or less legitimate way. I suspect nothing moreremarkable than this has happened."
He leaned back in h
is chair, his hands clasped, a sudden frown on hisface.
"I hate to suggest that anybody knows any more than we, but as you areso worried I will put you in touch with a man who will probably relieveyour anxiety."
Minute looked up.
"A police officer?" he asked.
Sir George shook his head.
"No, this is a private detective. He can do things for you which wecannot. Have you ever heard of Saul Arthur Mann? I see you haven't. SaulArthur Mann," said the commissioner, "has been a good friend of ours,and possibly in recommending him to you I may be a good friend to bothof you. He is 'The Man Who Knows.'"
"'The Man Who Knows,'" repeated Mr. Minute dubiously. "What does heknow?"
"I'll show you," said the commissioner. He went to the telephone, gave anumber, and while he was waiting for the call to be put through heasked: "What is the name of your boy-scout parson?"
"The Reverend Vincent Lock," replied Mr. Minute.
"I suppose you don't know the name of your glass peddler?"
Minute shook his head.
"They call him 'Waxy' in the village," he said.
"And the lady's name is Miss Paines, I think?" asked the commissioner,jotting down the names as he repeated them. "Well, we shall--Hello! Isthat Saul Arthur Mann? This is Sir George Fuller. Connect me with Mr.Mann, will you?"
He waited a second, and then continued:
"Is that you, Mr. Mann? I want to ask you something. Will you note thesethree names? The Reverend Vincent Lock, a peddling glazier who is knownas 'Waxy,' and a Miss Paines. Have you got them? I wish you would let meknow something about them."
Mr. Minute rose.
"Perhaps you'll let me know, Sir George--" he began, holding out hishand.
"Don't go yet," replied the commissioner, waving him to his chair again."You will obtain all the information you want in a few minutes."
"But surely he must make inquiries," said the other, surprised.
Sir George shook his head.
"The curious thing about Saul Arthur Mann is that he never has to makeinquiries. That is why he is called 'The Man Who Knows.' He is one ofthe most remarkable people in the world of criminal investigation," hewent on. "We tried to induce him to come to Scotland Yard. I am not sosure that the government would have paid him his price. At any rate, hesaved me any embarrassment by refusing point-blank."
The telephone bell rang at that moment, and Sir George lifted thereceiver. He took a pencil and wrote rapidly on his pad, and when he hadfinished he said, "Thank you," and hung up the receiver.
"Here is your information, Mr. Minute," he said. "The Reverend VincentLock, curate in a very poor neighborhood near Manchester, interested inthe boy scouts' movement. His brother, George Henry Locke, has had somedomestic trouble, his wife running away from him. She is now staying atthe Grand Hotel, Eastbourne, and is visited every day by herbrother-in-law, who is endeavoring to induce her to return to her home.That disposes of the reverend gentleman and his confederate. Miss Painesis a genuine landscape gardener, has been the plaintiff in twobreach-of-promise cases, one of which came to the court. There is nodoubt," the commissioner went on reading the paper, "that her _modusoperandi_ is to get elderly gentlemen to propose marriage and then tocommence her action. That disposes of Miss Paines, and you now know whyshe is worrying you. Our friend 'Waxy' has another name--ThomasCobbler--and he has been three times convicted of larceny."
The commissioner looked up with a grim little smile.
"I shall have something to say to our own record department for failingto trace 'Waxy,'" he said, and then resumed his reading.
"And that is everything! It disposes of our three," he said. "I will seethat 'Waxy' does not annoy you any more."
"But how the dickens--" began Mr. Minute. "How the dickens does thisfellow find out in so short a time?"
The commissioner shrugged his shoulders.
"He just knows," he said.
He took leave of his visitor at the door.
"If you are bothered any more," he said, "I should strongly advise youto go to Saul Arthur Mann. I don't know what your real trouble is, andyou haven't told me exactly why you should fear an attack of any kind.You won't have to tell Mr. Mann," he said with a little twinkle in hiseye.
"Why not?" asked the other suspiciously.
"Because he will know," said the commissioner.
"The devil he will!" growled John Minute, and stumped down the broadstairs on to the Embankment, a greatly mystified man. He would have goneoff to seek an interview with this strange individual there and then,for his curiosity was piqued and he had also a little apprehension, onewhich, in his impatient way, he desired should be allayed, but heremembered that he had asked May to lunch with him, and he was alreadyfive minutes late.
He found the girl in the broad vestibule, waiting for him, and greetedher affectionately.
Whatever may be said of John Minute that is not wholly to his credit, itcannot be said that he lacked sincerity.
There are people in Rhodesia who speak of him without love. Theydescribe him as the greatest land thief that ever rode a Zeedersburgcoach from Port Charter to Salisbury to register land that he hadobtained by trickery. They tell stories of those wonderful coach drivesof his with relays of twelve mules waiting every ten miles. They speakof his gambling propensities, of ten-thousand-acre farms that changedhands at the turn of a card, and there are stories that are lessprintable. When M'Lupi, a little Mashona chief, found gold in '92, andrefused to locate the reef, it was John Minute who staked him out andlit a grass fire on his chest until he spoke.
Many of the stories are probably exaggerated, but all Rhodesia agreesthat John Minute robbed impartially friend and foe. The confidant ofLo'Ben and the Company alike, he betrayed both, and on that terrible daywhen it was a toss of a coin whether the concession seekers would bebutchered in Lo'Ben's kraal, John Minute escaped with the onlyavailable span of mules and left his comrades to their fate.
Yet he had big, generous traits, and could on occasions be a tender anda kindly friend. He had married when a young man, and had taken his wifeinto the wilds.
There was a story that she had met a handsome young trader and hadeloped with him, that John Minute had chased them over three hundredmiles of hostile country from Victoria Falls to Charter, from Charter toMarandalas, from Marandalas to Massikassi, and had arrived in Biera soclose upon their trail that he had seen the ship which carried them tothe Cape steaming down the river.
He had never married again. Report said that the woman had died ofmalaria. A more popular version of the story was that John Minute hadrelentlessly followed his erring wife to Pieter Maritzburg and had shother and had thereupon served seven years on the breakwater for his sin.
About a man who is rich, powerful, and wholly unpopular, hated by themajority, and feared by all, legends grow as quickly as toadstools on amarshy moor. Some were half true, some wholly apocryphal, deliberate,and malicious inventions. True or false, John Minute ignored them all,denying nothing, explaining nothing, and even refusing to take actionagainst a Cape Town weekly which dealt with his career in a spirit ofunpardonable frankness.
There was only one person in the world whom he loved more than the girlwhose hand he held as they went down to the cheeriest restaurant inLondon.
"I have had a queer interview," he said in his gruff, quick way, "I havebeen to see the police."
"Oh, uncle!" she said reproachfully.
He jerked his shoulder impatiently.
"My dear, you don't know," he said. "I have got all sorts of peoplewho--"
He stopped short.
"What was there remarkable in the interview? she asked, after he hadordered the lunch.
"Have you ever heard," he asked, "of Saul Arthur Mann?"
"Saul Arthur Mann?" she repeated, "I seem to know that name. Mann, Mann!Where have I heard it?"
"Well," said he, with that fierce and fleeting little smile which rarelylit his face for a second, "if you don't know him he knows you;
he knowseverybody."
"Oh, I remember! He is 'The Man Who Knows!'"
It was his turn to be astonished.
"Where in the world have you heard of him?"
Briefly she retailed her experience, and when she came to describe theomniscient Mr. Mann--"A crank," growled Mr. Minute. "I was hoping therewas something in it."
"Surely, uncle, there must be something in it," said the girl seriously."A man of the standing of the chief commissioner would not speak abouthim as Sir George did unless he had very excellent reason."
"Tell me some more about what you saw," he said. "I seem to remember thereport of the inquest. The dead man was unknown and has not beenidentified."
She described, as well as she could remember, her meeting with theknowledgable Mr. Mann. She had to be tactful because she wished to tellthe story without betraying the fact that she had been with Frank. Butshe might have saved herself the trouble, because when she was halfwaythrough the narrative he interrupted her.
"I gather you were not by yourself," he grumbled. "Master Frank wassomewhere handy, I suppose?"
She laughed.
"I met him quite by accident," she said demurely.
"Naturally," said John Minute.
"Oh, uncle, and there was a man whom Frank knew! You probably knowhim--Constable Wiseman."
John Minute unfolded his napkin, stirred his soup, and grunted.
"Wiseman is a stupid ass," he said briefly. "The mere fact that he wasmixed up in the affair is sufficient explanation as to why the dead manremains unknown. I know Constable Wiseman very well," he said. "He hassummoned me twice--once for doing a little pistol-shooting in the gardenjust as an object lesson to all tramps, and once--confound him!--for asmoking chimney. Oh, yes, I know Constable Wiseman."
Apparently the thought of Constable Wiseman filled his mind through twocourses, for he did not speak until he set his fish knife and forktogether and muttered something about a "silly, meddling jackass!"
He was very silent throughout the meal, his mind being divided betweentwo subjects. Uppermost, though of least importance, was the personalityof Saul Arthur Mann. Him he mentally viewed with suspicion andapprehension. It was an irritation even to suggest that there might besecret places in his own life which could be flooded with the light ofthis man's knowledge, and he resolved to beard "The Man Who Knows" inhis den that afternoon and challenge him by inference to produce all theinformation he had concerning his past.
There was much which was public property. It was John Minute's boastthat his life was a book which might be read, but in his inmost heart heknew of one dark place which baffled the outside world. He broughthimself from the mental rehearsal of his interview to what was, afterall, the first and more important business.
"May," he said suddenly, "have you thought any more about what I askedyou?"
She made no attempt to fence with the question.
"You mean Jasper Cole?"
He nodded, and for the moment she made no reply, and sat with eyesdowncast, tracing a little figure upon the tablecloth with her fingertip.
"The truth is, uncle," she said at last, "I am not keen on marriage atall just yet, and you are sufficiently acquainted with human nature toknow that anything which savors of coercion will not make me predisposedtoward Mr. Cole."
"I suppose the real truth is," he said gruffly, "that you are in lovewith Frank?"
She laughed.
"That is just what the real truth is not," she said. "I like Frank verymuch. He is a dear, bright, sunny boy."
Mr. Minute grunted.
"Oh, yes, he is!" the girl went on. "But I am not in love withhim--really."
"I suppose you are not influenced by the fact that he is my--heir," hesaid, and eyed her keenly.
She met his glance steadily.
"If you were not the nicest man I know," she smiled, "I should be veryoffended. Of course, I don't care whether Frank is rich or poor. Youhave provided too well for me for mercenary considerations to weigh atall with me."
John Minute grunted again.
"I am quite serious about Jasper."
"Why are you so keen on Jasper?" she asked.
He hesitated.
"I know him," he said shortly. "He has proved to me in a hundred waysthat he is a reliable, decent lad. He has become almost indispensable tome," he continued with his quick little laugh, "and that Frank has neverbeen. Oh, yes, Frank's all right in his way, but he's crazy on thingswhich cut no ice with me. Too fond of sports, too fond of loafing," hegrowled.
The girl laughed again.
"I can give you a little information on one point," John Minute went on,"and it was to tell you this that I brought you here to-day. I am a veryrich man. You know that. I have made millions and lost them, but I havestill enough to satisfy my heirs. I am leaving you two hundred thousandpounds in my will."
She looked at him with a startled exclamation.
"Uncle!" she said.
He nodded.
"It is not a quarter of my fortune," he went on quickly, "but it willmake you comfortable after I am gone."
He rested his elbows on the table and looked at her searchingly.
"You are an heiress," he said, "for, whatever you did, I should neverchange my mind. Oh, I know you will do nothing of which I shoulddisapprove, but there is the fact. If you marry Frank you would stillget your two hundred thousand, though I should bitterly regret yourmarriage. No, my girl," he said more kindly than was his wont, "I onlyask you this--that whatever else you do, you will not make your choiceuntil the next fortnight has expired."
With a jerk of his head, John Minute summoned a waiter and paid hisbill.
No more was said until he handed her into her cab in the courtyard.
"I shall be in town next week," he said.
He watched the cab disappear in the stream of traffic which flowed alongthe Strand, and, calling another taxi, he drove to the address withwhich the chief commissioner had furnished him.