It appears that he happened to show this man--he's a man of title, by the way--a letter I wrote to him last spring, when I got back to Mexico--and so in that way this man, when he wanted me to come over, just told Gafferson to cable to me.""Gafferson," Thorpe repeated, very slowly, and with almost an effect of listlessness. He was conscious of no surprise;it was as if he had divined all along the sinister shadows of Lord Plowden and Lord Plowden's gardener, lurking in the obscurity behind this egregious old ass of a Tavender.
"He's a tremendous horticultural sharp," said the other.
"Probably you've heard tell of him. He's taken medals for new flowers and things till you can't rest.
He's over at--what do you call it?--the Royal Aquarium, now, to see the Dahlia Show. I went over there with him, but it didn't seem to be my kind of a show, and so I left him there, and I'm to look in again for him at 5:30. I'm going down to his place in the country with him tonight, to meet his boss--the nobleman I spoke of.""That's nice," Thorpe commented, slowly. "I envy anybody who can get into the country these days. But how did you know I was here?" "The woman in the book-store told me--I went there the first thing. You might be sure I'd look you up. Nobody was ever a better friend than you've been to me, Thorpe. And do you know what I want you to do? I want you to come right bang out, now, and have a drink with me.""I was thinking of something of the sort myself,"the big man replied. "I'll get my hat, and be with you in a minute."In the next room he relinquished his countenance to a frown of fierce perplexity. More than a minute passed in this scowling preoccupation. Then his face lightened with the relief of an idea, and he stepped confidently back into the parlour.
"Come along," he said, jovially. "We'll have a drink downstairs, and then we'll drive up to Hanover Square and see if we can't find a friend of mine at his club."In the office below he stopped long enough to secure a considerable roll of bank-notes in exchange for a cheque.
A little later, a hansom deposited the couple at the door of the Asian Club, and Thorpe, in the outer hallway of this institution, clicked his teeth in satisfaction at the news that General Kervick was on the premises.
The General, having been found by a boy and brought down, extended to his guests a hospitality which was none the less urbane for the evidences of surprise with which it was seasoned. He concealed so indifferently his inability to account for Tavender, that the anxious Thorpe grew annoyed with him, but happily Tavender's perceptions were less subtle. He gazed about him in his dim-eyed way with childlike interest, and babbled cheerfully over his liquor. He had not been inside a London club before, and his glimpse of the reading-room, where, isolated, purple-faced, retired old Empire-makers sat snorting in the silence, their gouty feet propped up on foot-rests, their white brows scowling over the pages of French novels, particularly impressed him. It was a new and halcyon vision of the way to spend one's declining years.
And the big smoking-room--where the leather cushions were so low and so soft, and the connection between the bells and the waiters was so efficient--that was even better.
Thorpe presently made an excuse for taking Kervick apart.
"I brought this old jackass here for a purpose," he said in low, gravely mandatory tones. "He thinks he's got an appointment at 5:30 this afternoon--but he's wrong.
He hasn't. He's not going to have any appointment at all--for a long time yet. I want you to get him drunk, there where he sits, and then take him away with you, and get him drunker still, and then take a train with him somewhere--any station but Charing Cross or that line--and I don't care where you land with him--Scotland or Ireland or France--whatever you like. Here's some money for you--and you can write to me for more. I don't care what you say to him--make up any yarn you like--only keep him pacified, and keep him away from London, and don't let a living soul talk to him--till I give you the word.
You'll let me know where you are. I'll get away now--and mind, General, a good deal depends on the way you please me in this thing."The soldier's richly-florid face and intent, bulging blue eyes expressed vivid comprehension. He nodded with eloquence as he slipped the notes into his trousers pocket.
"Absolutely," he murmured with martial brevity, from under his white, tight moustache.
With only a vague word or two of meaningless explanation to Tavender, Thorpe took his departure, and walked back to the hotel. From what he had learned and surmised, it was not difficult to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
This ridiculous old fool, he remembered now, had reproached himself, when he was in England before, for his uncivil neglect of his brother-in-law. By some absurd chance, this damned brother-in-law happened to be Gafferson.
It was clear enough that, when he returned to Mexico, Tavender had written to Gafferson, explaining the unexpected pressure of business which had taken up all his time in England. Probably he had been idiot enough to relate what he of course regarded as the most wonderful piece of good news--how the worthless concession he had been deluded into buying had been bought back from him.
As likely as not he had even identified the concession, and given Thorpe's name as that of the man who had first impoverished and then mysteriously enriched him. At all events, he had clearly mentioned that he had a commission to report upon the Rubber Consols property, and had said enough else to create the impression that there were criminal secrets connected with its sale to the London Company.
The rest was easy. Gafferson, knowing Lord Plowden's relation to the Company, had shown him Tavender's letter.
Lord Plowden, meditating upon it, had seen a way to be nasty--and had vindictively plunged into it. He had brought Tavender from Mexico to London, to use him as a weapon.
