do so. I simply deposited them as security until the turn in price of ‘Unions’ came.
“It is a very nice point, Mr. Laverick,” the bank manager remarked. “I should consider that you had already made use of them.”
“Every one to his own conscience,” Laverick answered calmly.
“You place me in a very embarrassing position, Mr. Laverick.”
“I cannot admit that at all,” Laverick replied. “There is only one inquiry which you could have had which could justify you in insisting upon what you have suggested. It emanated, I presume, from Scotland Yard?”
“If it had,” Mr. Fenwick answered, “no considerations of etiquette would have intervened at all. I should have felt it my duty to have revealed at once the fact of your deposit. At the same time, the inquiry comes from an even more important source,—a source which cannot be ignored.”
Laverick thought for a moment.
“After all, the matter is a very simple one,” he declared. “By four o’clock this afternoon my account shall be within its limits. You will then automatically restore to me the packet which you hold on my behalf, and the possession of which seems to embarrass you.”
“If you do not mind,” the banker answered, “I should be glad if you would take it with you. It means, I think, a matter of six or seven thousand pounds added to your overdraft, but as a temporary thing we will pass that.”
“As you will,” Laverick assented carelessly. “The charge of those documents is a trust with me as well as with yourself. I have no doubt that I can arrange for their being held in a secure place elsewhere.”
The usual formalities were gone through, and Laverick left the bank with the brown leather pocket-book in his breast-coat pocket. Arrived at his office, he locked it up at once in his private safe and proceeded with the usual business of the day. Even with an added staff of clerks, the office was almost in an uproar. Laverick threw himself into the struggle with a whole-hearted desire to escape from these unpleasant memories. He succeeded perfectly. It was two hours before he was able to sit down even for a moment. His head-clerk, almost as exhausted, followed him into his room.
“I forgot to tell you, sir,” he announced, “that there s a man outside—Mr. Shepherd was his name, I believe—said he had a small investment to make which you promised to look after personally. He would insist on seeing you—said he was a waiter at a restaurant which you visited sometimes.”
“That’s all right,” Laverick declared. “You can show him in. We’ll probably give him American rails.”
“Can’t we attend to it in the office for you, sir?” the clerk asked. “I suppose it’s only a matter of a few hundreds.”
“Less than that, probably, but I promised the fellow I’d look after it myself. Send him in, Scropes.”
There was a brief delay and then Mr. Shepherd was announced. Laverick, who was sitting with his coat off, smoking a well-earned cigarette, looked up and nodded to his visitor as the door was closed.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he remarked. “We’re having a bit of a rush.”
The man laid down his hat and came up to Laverick’s side.
“I guess that, sir,” he said, “from the number of people we’ve had in the ‘Black Post’ to-day, and the way they’ve all been shouting and talking. They don’t seem to eat much these days, but there’s some of them can shift the drink.”
“I’ve got some sound stocks looked out for you,” Laverick remarked, “two hundred and fifty pounds’ worth. If you’ll just approve that list as a matter of form,” he added, pushing a piece of paper across, “you can come in to-morrow and have the certificates. I shall tell them to debit the purchase money to my private account, so that if any one asks you anything, you can say that you paid me for them.”
“I’m sure I’m much obliged, sir,” the man said. “To tell you the truth,” he went on, “I’ve had a bit of a scare to-day.”
Laverick looked up quickly.
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
“May I sit down, sir? I’m a bit worn out. I’ve been on the go since half-past ten.”
Laverick nodded and pointed to a chair. Shepherd brought it up to the side of the table and leaned forward.
“There’s been two men in to-day,” he said, “asking questions. They wanted to know how many customers I had there on Monday night, and could I describe them. Was there any one I recognized, and so on.”
“What did you say?”
“I declared I couldn’t remember any one. To the best of my recollection, I told them, there was no one served at all after ten o’clock. I wouldn’t say for certain—it looked as though I might have had a reason.”
“And were they satisfied?”
“I don’t think they were,” Shepherd admitted. “Not altogether, that is to say.”
“Did they mention any names?” asked Laverick—“Morrison’s, for instance? Did they want to know whether he was a regular customer?”
“They didn’t mention no names at all, sir,” the man answered, “but they did begin to ask questions about my regular clients. Fortunate like, the place was so crowded that I had every excuse for not paying any too much attention to them. It was all I could do to keep on getting orders attended to.”
“What sort of men were they?” Laverick asked. “Do you think that they came from the police?”
“I shouldn’t have said so,” Shepherd replied, “but one can’t tell, and these gentlemen from Scotland Yard do make themselves up so sometimes on purpose to deceive. I should have said that these two were foreigners, the same kidney as the poor chap as was murdered. I heard a word or two pass, and I sort of gathered that they’d a shrewd idea as to that meeting in the ‘Black Post’ between the man who was murdered and the little dark fellow.”
Laverick nodded.
“Jim Shepherd,” he declared, “you appear to me to be a very sagacious person.”
“I’m sure I’m much obliged, sir; I can tell you, though,” he added, “I don’t half like these chaps coming round making inquiries. My nerves ain’t quite what they were, and it gives me the jumps.”
Laverick was thoughtful for a few moments.
“After all, there was no one else in the bar that night,” he remarked,—“no one who could contradict you?”
“Not a soul,” Jim Shepherd agreed.
“Then don’t you bother,” Laverick continued. “You see, you’ve been wise. You haven’t given yourself away altogether. You’ve simply said that you don’t recollect any one coming in. Why should you recollect? At the end of a day’s work you are not likely to notice every stray customer. Stick to it, and, if you take my advice, don’t go throwing any money about, and don’t give your notice in for another week
