In Strange Company: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas. Boothby Guy

      The Albino was not at all impressed by the man's determined attitude. Taking a step towards him, he whispered a sentence in his ear, with the result that next moment the fellow was scuttling down the street like one possessed, his companion after him.

      Macklin turned to Vargas with a grin.

      "There seems to be something in the old word after all. Now come; we've got our work cut out."

      As he spoke he produced a key, and opened the door of the dwelling before which they stood, and which was to the right of that they designed to visit. Entering, they proceeded along the passage to the small yard at the back. Once there only a low wall separated them from the other house. With an agility surprising in one so deformed, the Albino mounted it, and dropped on to the other side; Vargas followed him, and together they approached a window. Opening this, they crept through it into the dwelling; then, soft as cats, passed across the room towards the central passage. At a signal from Macklin, Vargas produced and lit a candle.

      Having before they started made themselves familiar with that part of the house which contained the treasure of which they were in search, they were able to approach it without hesitation or delay. On reaching the room they paused to listen, at the same time taking the precaution of examining their arms. Then, stealthily opening the door, they entered, the Albino first and Vargas in the rear, shading the candle with his hand.

      A half-starved, decrepit old man was pacing up and down at the further end. On seeing them he stopped his walk, and advanced towards them with a courtly bow.

      "You are very welcome," he began in English. "I've been expecting you this week past. You must excuse the unprepared state of my surroundings; but I've only moved in here while my Kensington house is being redecorated. You will stay and take dinner with me, of course?"

      "What does he say?" asked Vargas, who had no knowledge of English.

      "He's mad! – stark, staring mad!" replied the Albino.

      "Won't you sit down?" continued their host. "I will ring and have the wine put in ice. By the way, I don't think you told me your business; my memory is not what it was. I have had troubles – serious troubles."

      "That's enough of that, my friend," Macklin interposed "Confound your memory! We want that money – the Two Hundred and Fifty Thousand you swindled the Kamtchatka Bank out of. If you want to save your skin, you'd better own up where it is, and save any bother."

      The ex-banker continued to smile sweetly.

      "Ah! there's a very good story connected with that. It's going the round of the clubs now. Lord Burgoo, our chairman, asked me about it this afternoon in Piccadilly. You must know that I took it out to Chili to invest on the Bank's behalf. One evening, I was sitting in my room in the Calle de San Pedro, when a singularly handsome man called to see me. 'Mr. Bradshaw,' said he, 'I'm sorry to trouble you, but I've come to play you a game of cards for that money.' I had no objection, of course, so down we sat. Eventually he won, and I paid him all that was left of the £250,000. It was a good stake, wasn't it?"

      "You lie!" shrieked the Albino, dashing at him and clutching him by the throat. "That be hanged for a tale. It's only one of your damned dodges to put us off the scent. Where is it? Tell me, or I'll throttle you!"

      "I assure you it's the truth," gasped the unfortunate banker, half strangled. "I will even tell you his name."

      The Albino withdrew his hand.

      "Now, what was it? Quick!"

      "Let me think. I fancy it began with V – Veneda, or some such name. Of course I did not ask, but he allowed it to slip from him in his excitement. He was a most gentlemanly person, and interested me exceedingly."

      "Nonsense! I won't believe it; he dared not do it. But, Marcos Veneda, you thieving traitorous hound, by God, if this be true it will prove the worst day's work you've ever done in your life."

      Then in Spanish he explained what had happened to Vargas, whose rage was absurdly theatrical. He danced and swore, tore his hair and ground his teeth in an ecstasy of passion.

      "Stop that nonsense," said the Albino. "We must search the house as quickly as possible, and if it's not here, find Veneda without a moment's delay. Now we see why he wanted us to spare him. It strikes me we've been sold, and badly too."