The Twelve African Novels (A Collection). Edgar WallaceЧитать онлайн книгу.
dodge you’ve worked.”
This was not exactly true, but it pleased Peter to believe that he had some part in Amber’s many nefarious schemes.
“It’s a Dodge and a Game, my Peter,” said Amber, carefully wrapping up the plates. “It’s this much of a game, that if the police suddenly appeared and found these in my possession I should go down to the tombs for seven long bright years, and you for no less a period.”
It may have been an effect of the bad lighting of the room, but it seemed that Peter, the desperate criminal, went a little pale at the prospect so crudely outlined.
“That’s a bit dangerous, ain’t it?” he said uncomfortably. “Takin’ risks of that kind, Amber, — what is it?”
“Forgery,” said the calm Amber, “forgery of Bank of England notes.”
“Good gaw,” gasped Peter, and clutched the edge of the table for support.
“I was thinkin’ the same,” said Amber, and rose. “I am going to take these precious articles of virtue and bigotry to a safe place,” he said.
“Where? — be careful, ol’ man — don’t get yourself into trouble, an’ don’t get me into trouble — after me keepin’ clear of prison all these years, — chuck ’em into the river; borrer a boat down by Waterloo.”
He gave his advice in hoarse whispers as Amber left the room, with a little nod, and continued it over the crazy balustrades, as Amber went lightly down the stairs.
He turned into the Borough, and walked quickly in the direction of London Bridge. He passed a policeman, who, as bad luck would have it, knew him, and the man looked at him hard, then beckoned him.
Amber desired many things, but the one thing in the world that he did not wish was an interview with an inquisitorial policeman. To pass on, pretending not to have noticed the summons, would annoy the man, so Amber stopped, with his most winning smile.
“Well, Mr. Amber,” bantered the constable, “I see you’re out — going straight now?”
“So straight, my constable,” said Amber earnestly, “that you could use my blameless path as a T square.” He observed the quick, professional “ look over “ the man gave him. The plates were showing out of his pocket he knew, and the next remark might easily be a request for information regarding the contents of the flat package. His eye roved for a means of escape, and a slow moving taxicab attracted him. He raised his hand and whistled.
“Doin’ the heavy now, are you?” asked the constable disapprovingly.
“In a sense I am,” said Amber, and without moving he addressed the chauffeur who had brought his machine to the kerb.
“I want you to take me to New Scotland Yard,” he said; then addressing the policeman, he asked, “Do you think Chief Inspector Fell will be on duty?”
“Inspector Fell “ — there was a note of respect in the constable’s voice—” I couldn’t say, we don’t know very much about the Yard people — what are you going to see him about?”
“I am afraid I cannot appease your curiosity, my officer,” said Amber as he stepped into the cab, “but I will inform the chief inspector that you were anxious to know.”
“Here, Amber, none of that! “ said the alarmed policeman, stepping to the edge of the pavement, and laying his hand upon the door. “You’re not going to say that?”
“Not a bit,” Amber grinned, “my little joke; honour amongst policemen, eh?”
The cab made a wide circle, and Amber, looking back through the little back window, saw the policeman standing in that indefinable attitude which expresses doubt and suspicion.
It was a close shave, and Amber breathed a sigh of relief as the danger slipped past. He had ten minutes to decide upon his plan. Being more than ordinary nimble of wit, his scheme was complete before the cab ran smoothly over Westminster Bridge and turned into New Scotland Yard. There was an inspector behind a desk, who looked up from a report he was writing.
“I want to see Mr. Fell,” said Amber.
“Name?”
“Amber.”
“Seem to know it, — what is the business?”
For answer, Amber laid one hand on the polished counter that separated him from the officer, and placed two fingers diagonally across it.
The inspector grunted affirmatively and reached for the telephone.
“An outside — to see Mr. Fell…. Yes.” He hung up the receiver.
“Forty-seven,” he said; “you know your way up.”
It happened that Amber did not possess this knowledge, but he found no difficulty in discovering number forty-seven, which was a reception-room.
He had a few minutes to wait before a messenger came for him and showed him into a plainly furnished office.
Very little introduction is needed to Josiah Fell, who has figured in every great criminal case during the past twenty years. A short, thickset man, bald of forehead, with a pointed brown beard. His nose was short and retroussé, his forehead was bald, the flesh about his mild blue eyes was wrinkled and creased by much laughter. He was less like the detective of fiction than the unknowledgable would dare imagine.
“Amber, by heavens!” said the detective. He had a habit of using strong and unnecessary language.
“Amber, my boy, come in and firmey la porte. Well — ?”
He unlocked a drawer and produced a box of cigars. He was always glad to meet his “clients,” and Amber was an especial favourite of his. Though when he came to think about the matter he had not met Amber professionally.
“You’ll have a cigar?”
“What’s wrong with ‘em?” asked Amber, cautiously selecting one.
“Nothing much,” and as Amber lit the cheroot he had taken—” What do you want? Confession, fresh start in life — oh! of course, you’ve got somebody to put away; they telephoned up that you were doing outside work.”
Amber shook his head.
“I told ’em that because I knew that would get me an interview without fuss, — an old convict I met in prison gave me the sign.”
He took the packages from his pocket and laid them on the table.
“For me?” queried the officer.
“For you, my Hawkshaw,” said Amber.
The detective stripped the paper away, and uttered an exclamation as he saw what the parcels contained.
“Gee — Moses I “ He whistled long and softly. “Not your work, Amber? Hardly in your line, eh?”
“Hardly.”
“Where did you get them?” Fell looked up quickly as he asked the question.
“That’s the one thing I’m not going to tell you,” said Amber quietly, “but if you want to know how I got them, I burgled an office and found them in a safe.”
“When.?”
“Tonight.”
The inspector pressed a bell and a policeman came into the room.
“Send an all station message: In the event of an
office burglary being reported, keep the complainant under observation.”
The man scribbled the message down and left.
“I send that in case you won’t alter your mind about giving me the information I want.”
“I’m