CHAPTER

TO FACE THE BUSINESS END of an automatic was no new thing to Jimmie Silverdale. Yet four years of war, so far from making him careless, had given him a keen appreciation of the potentialities of a deadly weapon in the bands of a determined man. A reckless man might be brave; but he was usually a fool. There were men who could have borne tribute to Jimmie's courage; and these same men could also have told that he was far from being a fool.

      He stood stock still and a slow grin spread over his face.

      "Why, it's my dear old friend, Eston!" he exclaimed.

      Eston advanced a step and with his left hand thrust Hilary behind him. He held his pistol very steadily. "Just myself, Mr. Silverdale," he said softly. "You expected to see me, of course— but not at this precise moment. Keep very still, please. I fancy you were trying to edge along a trifle and I prefer to have you at a reasonable distance. I'm a little at tension myself and something might happen if you moved. I suppose you are, so to speak, an advance courier for the Scotland Yard folk."

      Jimmiyawned. "Dear old lad," he drawled. "Still playing lead for the pictures. For an intelligent man, Eston, you make me tired, You know as well as I do that you daren't murder me. It isn't done, old boy. Put down that howitzer and take things reasonably. In about an hour's time, when you're sitting comfortably in a nice, cool cell and are able to think things over, you will realize that this is good advice. You're hooked, old bean."

      There was a sneer on Eston's face. "All very humorous, I've no doubt, 'I he said. "I've never been a funny man myself and I'm not at all alarmed, thank you. I know that Knuckleduster didn't make a get-away to-night through his own brains. It was a frame-up, as I guessed. I've been expecting you and your friends for some considerable time."

      "Well, I'm here," said Silverdale coolly.

      "Yes, you're here. I think you'll stop here, too. I've made arrangements for just such a contingency. I'm afraid the Daily Wire will soon be missing one live, very alert, reporter. You see—"

      Hilary suddenly gave a cry and sprang forward. "Look out, Jimmie!"

      She was too late. From behind, two men had stealthily approached while the journalist was being held in conversation and, taken from behindI he stood not a dog's chance. In a few seconds he was lying prone, a heavy knee pressed into the small of his back and strong arms wrenching his wrists back till they could be lashed behind him.

      At the same moment, Hilary had tried to spring past Eston to Jimmie's aid. The crook over-balanced and half fell but recovered himself. He seized the girl roughly by the wrists and hurled her backwards.

      "You keep out of this, my lady," he ordered.

      She picked herself up as the men jerked Jimmie to his feet. The journalist was very white. "You—Eston!" he snarled. "I'll find a way to get even with you for this!"

      Eston knew that it was not his own predicament that had transformed Silverdale's jaunty nonchalance to white-hot passion, and an unpleasant smile passed across his features. "The dear lad," he smirked repeating Silverdale's words. "He is a chivalrous boy. He doesn't like to see the pretty dear knocked about. Don't you worry, Silverdale. Hilary and I understand one another. If I've hurt her, a kiss will put it right." He stepped back, placed his arm round the girl's waist, and bent his evil face to hers. "Won't it, Hilary? "

      Tied though he was, it took the united strength of his two assailants to hold Jimmie Silverdale back then. Hilary, however, fought herself free and, with surprising vigor, crashed her fist full in Eston's face. He loosed her with an ugly oath and she fled along the corridor.

      Eston wiped his face with a silk handkerchief and shrugged his shoulders. He seemed to have regained control of himself.

      "A bit of a spitfire, Silverdale," he observed, "but I like 'em with a little spice. Now we'll have to deal with you. I'm afraid I cannot offer you that nice, cool cell which you kindly spoke about to me just now. But we'll try the next best tbing—a little attic that we have fortunately got available as a spare room. I think perhaps that it might be advisable if you were gagged. I don't want to seem hard, but we never know what may happen."

      Someone whipped a handkerchief over Jimmie's mouth and then with an escort on each side he was urged along. Eston led the way to what Jimmie judged was the top-most floor of the house and he was pushed into a tiny, bare, windowless room with, as he noticed almost automatically, a strong, heavy oaken door.

      "I guess you will wait for your friends here," said Eston mildly—"that is, if they ever come. Just take a turn round his ankles, Jim, if you don't mind. We'll be on the safe side."

      Lashed hand and foot, Jimmie heard the door closed, and the thrusting of the bolts and a clash as the key turned, told him that Eston was taking no chances.

      To Jimmie Silverdale, tied hand and foot in that garret, things became curiously quiet. His ears strained to catch the slightest sound, he could hear nothing. Either the house was very substantially built or the people in it had become very noiseless.

      Apart from the physical discomfort of his bonds, and the hard floor, the journalist was little worried. It could only be a matter of minutes at the longest before Garfield moved. If only he could have smoked a cigarette, he could possess his soul in patience. It was no use worrying over spilt milk.

      Time passed very slowly. He wished he could look at his watch. The floor became intolerably hard and he rolled over on his other side for a rest. His wrists and his ankles were sore and he had more than once felt a twinge of cramp. Something must have gone wrong— yet what could have gone wrong? Why had not the police carried out their raid? It must have been an hour—no, more likely two hours—since he had got into this place. He concentrated on an attempt to free his wrists. But there had been no mistake when they had been secured. The only result was an increased rawness of the skin.

      Then he caught a slight sound and his eyes lighted. Muffled steps were ascending the stairs. Jimmie waited alert.

      Bolts clicked back into place and, with the turning of the key, Eston slipped quietly into the room. He wore a hat and overcoat and seemed cool and smiling. He carried a candle.

      "Well, Silverdale," he said, "I seem to have trumped your trick for once. You have had a little time for reflection. Don't you think you would be a wise man to call quits—you can get all you want if you come in with me. Ah, I forgot." He stooped and freed the bound man from his gag. "Now that's better. What do you think?"

      Silverdale took one or two heavy breaths. The gag had oppressed him. "I'd be able to think better if you cut my hands and feet free," he observed.

      Eston shook his head smilingly. "I have no doubt," he retorted. "You'll forgive me if I remark that I have a great respect for your physical prowess. Until we come to some amicable arrangement, I don't wish to put you in the way of temptation. You can talk quite well as you are."

      "I don't know that I want to talk to you," said Jimmie. "You know that everything you say will be used as evidence against you at your trial."

      The smile on Eston's face widened to an appreciative grin. "A sense of humor must be a great asset to a journalist. There are several reasons why what I say will not be used against me at my trial. For one thing I shall never be tried. Alternatively, as the lawyers say, you will not give evidence. Get that? We've got to come to a thorough understanding right now. Either you play partners with us, or the game ceases to interest you at all. You're right up against it."

      "Really, this sounds interesting. You're going to murder me."

      "Oh, dear, no! Nothing nearly so crude as that You must give me some credit for a little ingenuity, my dear Silverdale. It may happen that, in a little while your friends outside—whom I have provided with occupation for a time—will take it into their heads to raid this place. As a fact, they'll have to break the door down to do it, and meanwhile there is enough petrol and enough matches in the place to make quite a considerable blaze. In the confusion, it is not unlikely that you will be overlooked. I'm afraid you are liable to get somewhat—ah—scorched, unless you listen to reason."

      "Don't bluff."

      Eston lifted his shoulders. "I was afraid you might think that. Therefore—I am going to fell you a few things—things that I'd only tell to a trusted ally—or a man who will be dead in a few hours."

      The picture of scornful incredulity outwardly, Silverdale gave an inward shudder. He knew enough of Eston to realize that he was a man utterly without scruple, especially when pushed into a corner. Trapped and surrounded as he was, it was likely that he would go to any lengths to gain a chance. He believed that Eston was speaking the truth when he said he had found some method to distract the detectives. Otherwise, he would merely be wasting time with his prisoner.

      "There were between twenty and thirty people in all in this place a little while ago," went on Eston. "They are mostly inoffensive fools with a taste for gambling which I try to gratify. You will probably have surmised that this place is mine, though as a rule I take no personal part in its management. Well, I've given them and the staff orders to clear out in different directions. I judge there isn't an enormous force of police in the cordon round about and they'll be reluctant to let anyone get away from hereas I say, their hands will be pretty full. I hate to break faith with my clients but after all it's only a question of a fine.

      "Now I'm going to confess that I played a little trick on you when we bottled you on the stairs just now. I wanted to find out whether you were really in love with Hilary—or whether you were playing a devil of a deep game—or whether you knew, in fact, what I know. You fell for it. You are in love with the girl. What's more, she is in love with you."

      "One of these days," observed Silverdale, "if you escape the hangman—which I doubt— someone will confer a benefit on society by strangling you. I'd volunteer for the job myself."

      "Don't be hasty. I want you to hear me through in patience. You are aware, of course, that the lady is not Miss Hilary Sloane at all. That she is a widow?"

      A flicker of surprise passed across Jimmie's face to be instantly suppressed. He remembered his conversation with Garfield. He was determined to let Eston go as far as be would.

      "I have known Miss Sloane some considerable time," he said. "I suppose it's waste of breath calling you a liar?"

      "Ah, you are a little astonished. There is no reason why I should lie to you. I want your help and I am treating you quite frankly. The lady was secretly married some years ago in America, and she is the widow of our late lamented friend Harold Saxon. More than that—" he stretched out a hand eagerly—"she is his heiress. Oh, you may laugh, but I assure you that I have my facts all straight. I have even a copy of the marriage certificate and I know that Saxon left the whole of his property to his wife."

      "That latter point," said Jimmie, "explains why Velvet committed a burglary at Saxon's flat a few days before the murder took place."

      "Draw what inferences you like," said Eston. "I am just telling you. Saxon's fortune, I may say, amounts to several millions—a stake worth playing for. I'm no piker. If you come in on this, you're a made man."

      Silverdale puckered his brow, as one who considered a proposition. "If all this is true," he said, "and not a fantastic nightmare, where do I come in? I can see something of wbat you're after, but I don't see where I fit into the scheme. You're not making me this offer out of sheer altruism, I suppose?"

      "Scarcely," said Eston dryly. "Listen. I have had this in mind for a year or more, ever since I learned that Saxon had made a secret marriage. First of all I had to find out where the girl was and chance helped me there since she was living with a lady who was under some obligation to me."

      "Nora Dring?"

      "That doesn't matter. What does matter is that I found her. I don't want to wear any halo with you and I'll admit if you like that I have made rather a specialty of using my knowledge of little family secrets now and again."

      "Don't trouble about the gloss," said Silverdale. "Use the word 'blackmail.' It's shorter."

      "As you like. I saw further than blackmail, though. Blackmail meant at the best a few thousands now and again. As I said before, I'm no piker. I believe in big business. If Saxon died, his widow would get his money. I took precautions to be sure of that. My idea was that I might marry the lady and so get my fingers on things. I believe I might have carried out that part of the program, had there not been complications—in other words yourself."

      "You flatter me. As I understand it, what you intended to do was to kill Saxon and marry his widow?"

      "If I had killed Saxon," said Eston, "I shouldn't have made the mistake of making it an obvious murder. That was clumsily done. Otherwise you have summed up the situation. I took advantage of things. If you had been less in Hilary's mind, it might have come off, or I might do—what I shall do if you refuse my terms now and make her marry me whatever her feelings in the matter. Now, here is my offer. You want to marry her; she wants to marry you. I want to finger some of Saxon's money. You will take a million and I will take the rest."

      "And what about the police?"

      A sneer passed across Eston's face. "Oh, the police! You and I ought to be able to fix things so far as they are concerned. I'm not worried about that. They suspect Hilary of the murder but we'll be able to arrange an alibi."

      "They don't suspect Hilary, as you know quite well. For one thing, she could never inherit Saxon's fortune if she had killed him."

      "Well?" Eston shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't matter whom they suspect. I'll give you my word that we'll be all right. Now, time is getting short. I've put my proposition up to you, what do you think of it?"

      Silverdale struggled to a sitting position. "I think you have made a mistake. I'll see you in the deepest corner of the infernal regions before I agree to anything you put up. Go away."

      "You're a little overstrained. Just consider it sanely for a moment. I offer you a million pounds more than you are fighting for. You only want the girl. Why refuse? You'll have nothing on your conscience. Look here, Silverdale, I'm in love with Hilary myself. On my soul, I shall be almost glad if you refuse."

      Silverdale rolled over so that his back was towards the other and remained contemptuously silent.

      "You've had your chance," said Eston. "I'll be damned if I'll waste more time with you!"

      The door closed behind him.