Books: The Mystery of the Four Fingers
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Fred M. White >> The Mystery of the Four Fingers
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"We are getting on," Gurdon said. "That little touch about the Portuguese
language clearly points to Fenwick."
"Of course, it does," Venner went on. "But that is not quite all. The
letter goes on to say that something like a struggle took place, after
which the cripple was bundled into the cab, which was driven away. It was
a four-wheeled cab, and the peculiarity about it was that it had india
rubber tires, which is a most unusual thing for the typical growler. The
author of all this information says that the struggle appeared to be of
no very desperate nature, for it was followed by nothing in the way of a
call for help. Indeed, the workman who is telling all this seemed to
think that it was more or less in the way of what he calls a spree. He
said nothing whatever to the police about it, fearing perhaps that he
himself was in no fit state to tell a story; and, besides, there was just
the possibility that he might find himself figuring before a magistrate
the next morning. That is the whole of the letter, Gurdon, which though
it conveys very little to the authorities, is full of pregnant
information for ourselves. At any rate, it tells us quite clearly that
Fenwick was at the bottom of this outrage."
"Quite right," Gurdon said. "The little touch about the Portuguese
language proves that. Is there anything else in the letter likely to be
useful to us?"
"No, I have given you the whole of it. Personally, the best thing we can
do is to go and interview the writer, who has given his name and address.
A small, but judicious, outlay in the matter of beer will cause him to
tell us all we want to know."
It was somewhere in the neighborhood of the Docks where the man who had
given his name as James Taylor was discovered later on in the day. He was
a fairly intelligent type of laborer, who obtained a more or less
precarious livelihood as a docker. As a rule, he worked hard enough four
or five hours a day when things were brisk, and, in slack periods when
money was scarce, he spent the best part of his day in bed. He had one
room in a large tenement house, where the friends found him partially
dressed and reading a sporting paper. He was not disposed to be
communicative at first, but the suggestion of something in the way of
liquid refreshment stimulated his good-nature.
"Right you are," he said. "I've had nothing today besides a mouthful of
breakfast, and when I've paid my rent I shall have a solitary tanner
left; but I 'ope you gents are not down here with a view of getting a
poor chap into trouble?"
Gurdon hastened to reassure him on that head. He was balancing a
half-sovereign thoughtfully on his forefinger.
"We are not going to hurt you at all," he said. "We want you to give us a
little information. In proof of what I say you can take this
half-sovereign and obtain what liquid refreshment you require. Also, you
can keep the change. If you don't like my proposal, there is an end of
the matter."
"Don't be short, guv'nor," Taylor responded. "I like that there
proposition of yours so well that I'm going to take it; 'alf-sovereigns
ain't so plentiful as all that comes to. If you just wait a moment, I'll
be back in 'alf a tick. Then I'll tell you all you want to know."
The man was back again presently, and professed himself ready to answer
any questions that might be put to him. His manner grew just a little
suspicious as Venner mentioned the name of Bates.
"You don't look like police," he said. "Speaking personally, I ain't fond
of 'em, and I don't want to get into trouble."
"We have no connection whatever with the police," Venner said. "In fact,
we would rather not have anything to do with them. It so happens that we
are both interested in the gentleman that you saw getting into the cab
the other night. I have read your letter in the paper, and I am quite
prepared to believe every word of it. The only thing we want to know is
whether you saw the man in the cab--"
"Which one?" Taylor asked. "There were two blokes in the cab."
"This is very interesting," Venner murmured. "I shall be greatly obliged
to you if you will describe both of them."
"I couldn't describe the one, guv'nor," Taylor replied. "His back was to
me all the time, and when you come to think of it, I wasn't quite so
clear in the head as I might have been. But I caught a glimpse of the
other man's face; as he looked out of the cab the light of the lamp shone
on his face. He'd a big cloak on, as far as I could judge, with the
collar turned up about his throat, and a soft hat on his head. He knocks
the hat off looking out of the cab window, then I see as 'is head was
bald like a bloomin' egg, and yellow, same as if he had been painted. I
can't tell you any more than that, not if you was to give me another
'alf-sovereign on the top of the first one."
"Just another question," Gurdon said. "Then we won't bother you any more.
About what age do you suppose the man was?"
Taylor paused thoughtfully for a moment before he replied.
"Well, I should think he was about fifty-five or sixty," he said. "Looked
like some sort of a foreigner."
"That will do, thank you," Venner said. "We will not detain you any
longer. At the same time I should be obliged if you would keep this
information to yourself; but, of course, if the police question you, you
will have to speak. But a discreet silence on the subject of this visit
of ours would be esteemed."
Taylor winked and nodded, and the friends departed, not displeased to get
away from the stuffy and vitiated atmosphere of Taylor's room. On the
whole, they were not dissatisfied with the result of their expedition. At
any rate, they had now proof positive of the fact that Fenwick was at the
bottom of the mysterious disappearance of the man called Bates.
"I don't quite see what we are going to do next," Venner said. "So
far, we have been exceedingly fortunate to find ourselves in
possession of a set of clues which would be exceedingly valuable to
the police. But how are we going to use these clues is quite another
matter. What do you suggest?"
"Keeping a close eye upon Fenwick at any rate. For that purpose it would
not be a bad idea to employ a private inquiry agent. He need know
nothing of what we are after."
Thereupon it was decided that Gurdon was to dine with Venner that night
and go fully into the matter.
CHAPTER X
THE SECOND FINGER
It was, perhaps, fortunate for all concerned that, though Venner was so
closely identified by the irony of Fate with the movements of Mark
Fenwick, he was not known to the latter personally, though they had been
almost side by side three years previous in Mexico. Therefore, it was
possible for Venner to get a table in the dining-room quite close to that
of the alleged millionaire. It was all the more fortunate, as things
subsequently turned out, that Fenwick had returned to town that afternoon
and had announced his intention of dining at the hotel the same evening.
This information Venner gave to Gurdon when the latter turned up about
half-past seven. Then the host began to outline the plan of campaign
which he had carefully thought out.
"Fenwick is dining over there," he said. "He generally sits with his back
to the wall, and I have had our table so altered that we can command all
his movements. Vera, of course, will dine with him. Naturally enough, she
will act as if we were absolute strangers to her. That will be
necessary."
"Of course," Gurdon admitted. "But isn't it a strange thing that you
should be an absolute stranger to Fenwick?"
"Well, it does seem strange on the face of it. But it is capable of the
easiest explanation. You see, when I first met Vera, she was at school in
a town somewhere removed from the Four Finger Mine. I saw a good deal of
her there, and when finally she went up country, we were practically
engaged. At her urgent request the engagement was kept a secret, and when
I followed to the Mines it was distinctly understood that I should not
call at Fenwick's house or make myself known to him except in the way of
business. As it happens, we never did meet, and whenever I saw Vera it
was usually by stealth. The very marriage was a secret one, and you may
charge me fairly with showing great weakness in the matter. But there, I
have told you the story before, and you must make the best of it. On the
whole, I am glad things turned out as they did, for now I can play my
cards in the game against Fenwick without his even suspecting that he has
me for an opponent. It is certainly an advantage in my favor."
Venner had scarcely ceased speaking before Fenwick and Vera appeared. She
gave one timid glance at Venner; then, averting her eyes, she walked
demurely across to her place at the table. Fenwick followed, looking
downcast and moody, and altogether unlike a man who is supposed to be
the happy possessor of millions. His manner was curt and irritable, and
he seemed disposed to find fault with everything. Venner noticed, too,
that though the man ate very little he partook of far more champagne than
was good for anyone. Thanks no doubt to the wine, the man's dark mood
lifted presently, and he began chatting to Vera. The two men at the other
table appeared to be deeply interested in their dinner, though, as a
matter of fact, they were listening intently to every word that Fenwick
was saying. He was talking glibly enough now about some large house in
the country which he appeared to have taken for the winter months. Vera
listened with polite indifference.
"In Kent," Fenwick was saying. "Not very far from Canterbury. A fine old
house, filled with grand furniture, just the sort of place you'd like.
I've made all arrangements, and the sooner we get away from London the
better I shall be pleased."
"It will be rather dull, I fear," Vera replied. "I don't suppose that I
shall get on very well with county people--"
"Hang the county people," Fenwick growled. "Who cares a straw for them?
Not but what they'll come along fast enough when they hear that Mark
Fenwick, the millionaire, is in their midst. Still, there is a fine park
round the house, and you'll be able to get as much riding as you want."
Venner watching furtively saw that Vera was interested for the first
time. He had not forgotten the fact that she was an exceedingly fine
horsewoman; he recollected the glorious rides they had had together.
Interested as he was in the mysterious set of circumstances which had
wound themselves into his life, he was not without hope that this change
would enable him to see more of Vera than was possible in London. In the
lonely country he would be able to plan meetings with her; indeed, he had
made up his mind to leave London as soon as Vera had gone. Moreover, in
this instance, duty and inclination pointed the same way. If the mystery
were to be solved and Vera freed from her intolerable burden, it would be
essential that every movement of Fenwick's should be carefully watched.
The only way to carry out this plan successfully would be to follow him
into Kent.
"You heard that?" he murmured to Gurdon. "We must find out exactly where
this place is, and then look out some likely quarters in the
neighborhood. I must contrive to see Vera and learn her new address
before she goes."
"No reason to worry about that," Gurdon said. "It will all be in the
papers. The doings of these monied men are chronicled as carefully now
as the movements of Royalty. It is any odds when you take up your
_Morning Post_ in the morning that you will know not only exactly where
Fenwick is going to spend the winter, but get an exact history of the
house. So far as I can see we might finish our dinner and go off to a
theatre. We are not likely to hear any more to-night, and all this
mystery and worry is beginning to get on my nerves. What do you say to
an hour or two at the Gaiety?"
Venner pleaded for a few moments' delay. So far as he was personally
concerned he felt very unlike the frivolity of the typical musical
comedy; but still, he had finished his dinner by this time and was not
disposed to be churlish. Fenwick had completed his repast also, and was
sipping his coffee in an amiable frame of mind, heedless apparently of
business worries of all kinds.
At the same moment a waiter came into the room and advanced to the
millionaire's table with a small parcel in his hand.
"A letter for you, sir. An express letter which has just arrived. Will
you be good enough to sign the receipt?"
"Confound the people," Fenwick growled. "Can't you leave me alone for
half an hour when I am having my dinner? Take the thing up to my room.
You sign it, Vera."
"I'll sign it, of course," Vera replied. "But don't you think you had
better open the parcel? It may be of some importance. People don't
usually send express letters at this time of night unless they are
urgent. Or, shall I open it for you?"
The waiter had gone by this time, taking the receipt for the letter with
him. With a gesture Fenwick signified to Vera that she might open the
parcel. She cut the string and opened the flat packet, disclosing a small
object in tissue paper inside. This she handed to Fenwick, who tore the
paper off leisurely. Then the silence of the room was startled by the
sound of an oath uttered in tones of intense fury.
"Curse the thing!" Fenwick cried. His yellow face was wet and ghastly
now. The big purple veins stood out like cords on his forehead. "Am I
never to be free from the terror of this mystery? Where did it come from?
How could it be possible when the very man I have most reason to dread is
no longer in a position--"
The speaker broke off suddenly, as if conscious that he was betraying
himself. The little object in the tissue paper lay on the table in such a
position that it was impossible for Venner or Gurdon to see what it was,
but they could give a pretty shrewd guess. Venn or looked inquiringly at
his friend.
"Well, what do you suppose it is?" he asked.
"Personally, I have no doubt whatever as to what it is," Gurdon said. "I
am as sure as if I held the thing in my hand at the present moment. It
is the second finger which at some time or another was attached to
Fenwick's hand."
"You've got it," Venner said. "Upon my word, the farther we go with this
thing the more complicated it becomes. No sooner do we clear up one point
than a dozen fresh ones arrive. Now, is not this amazing? We know
perfectly well that the man whom we have to call Bates has been kidnapped
by our interesting friend opposite, and yet here the second warning
arrives just as if Bates were still free to carry out his vengeance. What
can one make of it?"
"Well, the logical conclusion is that Bates has an accomplice. I fail to
see any other way of accounting for it."
Fenwick still sat there mopping his heated face and turning a disgusted
eye upon the little object on the table. He seemed to be terribly
distressed and upset, though there was nothing like the scene on the
previous occasion, and, doubtless, few diners besides Venner and Gurdon
knew that anything out of the common was taking place there. But they
were watching everything carefully; they noted Fenwick's anxious face,
they could hear his stertorous breathing. Though he had dined so freely
he called for brandy now, a large glass of which he drank without any
addition whatever. Then his agitation became less uncontrollable and a
little natural color crept into his cheeks. Without glancing at it he
slipped the little object on the table into his pocket and rose more or
less unsteadily to his feet.
"I have had a shock," he muttered. "I don't deny that I have had a
terrible shock. You don't understand it, Vera, and I hope you never will.
I wish I had never touched that accursed mine. I wish it had been fathoms
under the sea before I heard of it, but the mischief has been done now,
and I shall have to go on to the end. You can stay here if you like--as
to me, I am going to my own room. I want to be alone for a bit and think
this matter out."
Fenwick lurched across the room with the air of a man who is more or less
intoxicated, though his head was clear enough and his faculties undimmed.
Still, his limbs were trembling under him and he groped his way to the
door with the aid of a table here and there. It was perhaps rather a
risky thing to do, but Venner immediately crossed over and took the seat
vacated so recently by Fenwick. Vera welcomed him shyly, but it was
palpable that she was ill at ease. She would have risen had not Venner
detained her.
"Don't you think you are very imprudent?" she said. "Suppose he should
change his mind and come back here again?"
"I don't think there is much chance of that," Venner said, grimly.
"Fenwick will only be too glad to be by himself for a bit. But tell me,
dear, what was it that gave him such a shock?"
"I don't understand it at all," Vera said. "It was something to do
with that dreadful mine and the vengeance connected with it. This is
the second time the same thing has happened within the last few days,
and I fear that it will culminate sooner or later in some fearful
tragedy. I have some hazy idea of the old legend, but I have almost
forgotten what it is."
"I don't think you need worry about that," Venner said. "Though it
will have to be spoken of again when the whole thing is cleared up;
but now I wish to talk to you on more personal matters. Did I not
understand Fenwick to say to-night that he was taking a large house
somewhere in Kent?"
"That is his intention, I believe," Vera replied. "I understand it is a
large, dull place in the heart of the country. Personally I am not
looking forward to it with the least pleasure. Things are bad enough here
in London, but there is always the comfortable feeling that one is
protected here, whereas in a lonely neighborhood the feeling of
helplessness grows very strong."
"You are not likely to be lonely or neglected," Venner smiled. "As soon
as I have definitely ascertained where you are going, Gurdon and myself
will follow. It is quite necessary that we should be somewhere near you;
but, of course, if you object--"
But Vera was not objecting. Her face flushed with a sudden happiness. The
knowledge that the man she loved was going to be so near her filled her
with a sense of comfort.
"Don't you think it will be dangerous?" she asked.
"Not in the least," Venner said. "Don't forget that I am a stranger to
Mark Fenwick, which remark applies with equal force to Gurdon. And if we
take a fancy to spend a month or two hunting in the neighborhood of
Canterbury, surely there is nothing suspicious in that. I am looking
forward to the hunting as a means whereby we may manage to get some long
rides together. And even if Fenwick does find it out, it will be easy to
explain to him that you made my acquaintance on the field of sport."
"I am glad to hear you say that," Vera whispered. "I may be wrong, of
course, but I feel that strange things are going to happen, and that I
shall need your presence to give me courage."
Vera might have said more, but a waiter came into the room at the same
moment with an intimation to the effect that Mr. Fenwick desired to speak
to her. She flitted away now, and there was nothing for it but for Venner
to fall in with Gurdon's suggestion of a visit to the theatre.
It was not long after breakfast on the following morning that Venner
walked into Gurdon's rooms with a new proposal.
"I have been thinking out this confounded thing," he said. "I have an
idea; as you know, the house where you had your adventure the other night
is empty, it has occurred to me that perhaps it may be to let. If so, we
are going to call upon the agent in the characters of prospective
tenants. What I want to do is to ascertain if possible the name of the
owner of the premises."
"I see," Gurdon said thoughtfully. "I am ready for you now."
It was some little time before the friends got on the right track, but
they found the right man at length. The agent was not quite sure whether
he was in a position at present to make any definite arrangements on the
part of the owner.
"I presume he wants to let the house," he said, "though I have no
instructions, and it is some considerable time since I have heard from my
client. You see, he lives abroad."
"Can't you give us his address," Venner asked, "and let us write to him
direct? It would save time."
"That I fear is equally impossible," the agent explained. "My client
wanders about from place to place, and I haven't the remotest idea where
to find him. However, I'll do my best."
"You might tell us his name," Venner said.
"Certainly. His name is Mr. Le Fenu."
"What do you make of it?" Venner said, when once more he and Gurdon were
in the street. "I see you have forgotten what the name of Le Fenu
implies. Don't you remember my telling you that the original owner of
the Four Finger Mine who was murdered by the Dutchman, Van Fort, was
called Le Fenu?"
CHAPTER XI
AN UNEXPECTED MOVE
On the whole the discovery was startling enough. It proved to
demonstration that the man who called himself Bates must have been in
some way connected with the one-time unfortunate owner of the Four Finger
Mine. There was very little said as the two friends walked down the
street together. Venner paused presently, and stood as if an idea had
occurred to him.
"I have a notion that something will come of this," he said. "I had a
great mind to go back to the agent's and try to get the key of the empty
house under some pretext or another."
"What do you want it for?" Gurdon asked.
"I am not sure that I want it for anything," Venner admitted. "I have a
vague idea, a shadowy theory, that I am on the right track at last, but I
may be wrong, especially as I am dealing with so unscrupulous an opponent
as Fenwick. All the same, I think I'll step round to that agent's office
this afternoon and get the key. Sooner or later, I shall want a town
house, and I don't see why that Portsmouth Square place shouldn't suit me
very well."
Venner was true to his intention, and later in the afternoon was once
more closeted with the house-agent.
"Do you really want to let the place?" he asked.
"Well, upon my word, sir, I'm not quite sure," the agent replied. "As
I said before, it is such a difficult matter to get in contact with
the owner."
"But unless he wanted to let it, why did he put it in your hands?" Venner
asked. "Still, you can try to communicate with him, and it will save time
if you let me have the keys to take measurements and get estimates for
the decorating, and so on. I will give you any references you require."
"Oh, there can be no objection to that," the agent replied. "Yes, you can
have the keys now, if you like. You are not in the least likely to run
away with the place."
Venner departed with the keys in his possession, and made his way back to
the hotel. He had hardly reached his own room before a waiter came in
with a note for him. It was from Vera, with an urgent request that Venner
would see her at once, and the intimation that there would be no danger
in his going up to the suite of rooms occupied by Mark Fenwick. Venner
lost no time in answering this message. He felt vaguely uneasy and
alarmed. Surely, there must be something wrong, or Vera would not have
sent for him in this sudden manner. He could not quite see, either, how
it was that he could call at Fenwick's rooms without risk. However, he
hesitated no longer, but knocked at the outer door of the self-contained
rooms, which summons was presently answered by Vera herself.
"You can come in," she said. "I am absolutely alone. Mr. Fenwick has gone
off in a great hurry with all his assistants, and my own maid will not be
back for some little time."
"But is there no chance of Fenwick coming back?" Venner asked. "If he
caught me here, all my plans would be ruined. My dear girl, why don't you
leave him and come to me? I declare it makes me miserable to know that
you are constantly in contact with such a man as that. It isn't as if you
were any relation to him."
"Thank goodness, I am no relation at all," Vera replied. "It is not for
my own sake that I endure all this humiliation."
"Then, why endure it?" Venner urged.
"Because I cannot help myself. Because there is someone else whom I have
to look after and shield from harm. Some day you will know the whole
truth, but not yet, because my lips are sealed. But I did not bring you
here to talk about myself. There are other and more urgent matters. I am
perfectly sure that something very wrong is going on here. Not long after
breakfast this morning, Mr. Fenwick was sitting here reading the paper,
when he suddenly rose in a state of great agitation and began sending
telegrams right and left. I am certain that there was terribly disturbing
intelligence in that paper; but what it was, I, of course, cannot say. I
have looked everywhere for a clue and all in vain. No sooner were the
telegrams dispatched than the three or four men here, whom Mr. Fenwick
calls his clerks, gathered all his papers and things together and sent
them off by express vans. Mr. Fenwick told me that everything was going
to the place that he had taken at Canterbury, but I don't believe that,
because none of the boxes were labelled. Anyway, they have all gone, and
I am instructed to remain here until I hear from Mr. Fenwick again."
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