patient was better but was still in an unconscious condition.
V. “RECEIVED WITH THANKS
“Steel swallowed a hasty breakfast and hurried off town- wards. He had £1,000 packed away in his cigar-case, and the sooner he was free from Beckstein the better he would be pleased. He came at length to the offices of Messrs. Mossa and Mack, whose brass-plate bore the legend that the gentry in questions were solicitors, and that they also had a business in London. As David strode into the offices of the senior partner that individual looked up with a shade of anxiety in his deep, Oriental eyes.
“If you have come to offer terms,” he said, nasally, “I am sorry—”
“To hear that I have come to pay you in full,” David said, grimly; “£974 16s. 4d. up to yesterday, which I understand is every penny you can rightfully claim. Here it is. Count it.”
He opened the cigar-case and took the notes therefrom. Mr. Mossa counted them very carefully indeed. The shade of disappointment was still upon his aquiline features. He had hoped to put in execution to-day and sell David up. In that way quite £200 might have been added to his legitimate earnings.
“It appears to be all correct,” Mossa said, dismally.
“So I imagined, sir. You will be so good as to indorse the receipt on the back of the writ. Of course you are delighted to find that I am not putting you to painful extremities. Any other firm of solicitors would have given me time to pay this. But I am like the man who journeyed from Jericho to Jerusalem—”
“And fell amongst thieves! You dare to call me a thief? You dare—”
“I didn’t,” David said, drily. “That fine, discriminating mind of yours saved me the trouble. I have met some tolerably slimy scoundrels in my time, but never any one of them more despicable than yourself. Faugh! the mere sight of you sickens me. Let me get out of the place so that I can breathe.”
David strode out of the office with the remains of his small fortune rammed into his pocket. In the wild, unreasoning rage that came over him he had forgotten his cigar-case. And it was some little time before Mr. Mossa was calm enough to see the diamonds winking at him.
“Our friend is in funds,” he muttered. “Well, he shall have a dance for his cigar-case. I’ll send it up to the police-station and say that some gentleman or other left it here by accident. And if that Steel comes back we can say that there is no cigar-case here. And if Steel does not see the police advertisement he will lose his pretty toy, and serve him right. Yes, that is the way to serve him out.”
Mr. Mossa proceeded to put his scheme into execution whilst David was strolling along the sea front. He was too excited for work, though he felt easier in his mind than he had done for months. He turned mechanically on to the Palace Pier, at the head of which an Eastbourne steamer was blaring and panting. The trip appealed to David in his present frame of mind. Like most of his class, he was given to acting on the spur of the moment…. It was getting dark as David let himself into Downend Terrace with his latchkey.
How good it was to be back again! The eye of the artist rested fondly upon the beautiful things around. And but for the sport of chance, the whim of fate, these had all passed from him by this time. It was good to look across the dining-table over venetian glass, to see the pools of light cast by the shaded electric, to note the feathery fall of flowers, and to see that placid, gentle face in its frame of white hair opposite him. Mrs. Steel’s simple, unaffected pride in her son was not the least gratifying part of David’s success.
“You have not suffered from the shock, mother?” he asked.
“Well, no,” Mrs. Steel confessed, placidly. “You see, I never had what people call nerves, my dear. And, after all, I saw nothing. Still, I am very, very sorry for that poor young man, and I have sent to inquire after him several times.”
“He is no worse or I should have heard of it.”
“No, and no better. And Inspector Marley has been here to see you twice to-day.”
David pitied himself as much as a man could pity himself considering his surroundings. It was rather annoying that this should have happened at a time when he was so busy. And Marley would have all sorts of questions to ask at all sorts of inconvenient seasons.
Steel passed into his study presently and lighted a cigarette. Despite his determination to put the events of yesterday from his mind, he found himself constantly returning to them. What a splendid dramatic story they would make! And what a fascinating mystery could be woven round that gun-metal cigar-case!
By the way, where was the cigar-case? On the whole it would be just as well to lock the case away till he could discover some reasonable excuse for its possession. His mother would be pretty sure to ask where it came from, and David could not prevaricate so far as she was concerned. But the cigar-case was not to be found, and David was forced to the conclusion that he had left it in Mossa’s office.
A little annoyed with himself he took up the evening Argus. There was half a column devoted to the strange case at Downend Terrace, and just over it a late advertisement to the effect that a gun-metal cigar-case had been found and was in the hands of the police awaiting an owner.
David slipped from the house and caught a ‘bus in St. George’s Road.
At the police-station he learnt that Inspector Marley was still on the premises. Marley came forward gravely. He had a few questions to ask, but nothing to tell.
“And now perhaps you can give me some information?” David said, “You are advertising in to-night’s Argus a gun-metal cigar-case set with diamonds.”
“Ah,” Marley said, eagerly, “can you tell us anything about it?”
“Nothing beyond the fact that I hope to satisfy you that the case is mine.”
Marley stared open-mouthed at David for a moment, and then relapsed into his sapless official manner. He might have been a detective cross-examining a suspected criminal.
“Why this mystery?” David asked. “I have lost a gun-metal cigar-case set with diamonds, and I see a similar article is noted as found by the police. I lost it this morning, and I shrewdly suspect that I left it behind me at the office of Mr. Mossa.”
“The case was sent here by Mr. Mossa himself,” Marley admitted.
“Then, of course, it is mine. I had to give Mr. Mossa my opinion of him this morning, and by way of spiting me he sent that case here, hoping, perhaps, that I should not recover it. You know the case Marley—it was lying on the floor of my conservatory last night.”
“I did notice a gun-metal case there,” Marley said, cautiously.
“As a matter of fact, you called my attention to it and asked if it was mine.”
“And you said at first that it wasn’t, sir.”
“Well, you must make allowances for my then frame of mind,” David laughed. “I rather gather from your manner that somebody else has been after the case; if that is so, you are right to be reticent. Still,
