Dead Men's Money, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  THE MIDNIGHT MISSION

  Before he said a word more, I knew that Mr. Gilverthwaite was veryill--much worse, I fancied, than my mother had any notion of. It wasevidently hard work for him to get his breath, and the veins in histemples and forehead swelled out, big and black, with the effort oftalking. He motioned to me to hand him a bottle of some stuff which hehad sent for from the chemist, and he took a swig of its contents fromthe bottle neck before he spoke again. Then he pointed to a chair at thebed-head, close to his pillow.

  "My lungs!" he said, a bit more easily. "Mortal bad! Queer thing, a greatman like me, but I was always delicate in that way, ever since I was anipper--strong as a bull in all else. But this word is private. Lookhere, you're a lawyer's clerk?"

  He had known that, of course, for some time--known that I was clerk to asolicitor of the town, and hoping to get my articles, and in due coursebecome a solicitor myself. So there was no need for me to do more thannod in silence.

  "And being so," he went on, "you'll be a good hand at keeping a secretvery well. Can you keep one for me, now?"

  He had put out one of his big hands as he spoke, and had gripped mywrist with it--ill as he was, the grip of his fingers was like steel, andyet I could see that he had no idea that he was doing more than layinghis hand on me with the appeal of a sick man.

  "It depends what it is, Mr. Gilverthwaite," I answered. "I should like todo anything I can for you."

  "You wouldn't do it for nothing," he put in sharply. "I'll make it wellworth your while. See here!"

  He took his hand away from my wrist, put it under his pillow, and drewout a bank-note, which he unfolded before me.

  "Ten pound!" he said. "It's yours, if you'll do a bit of a job for me--inprivate. Ten pound'll be useful to you. What do you say, now?"

  "That it depends on what it is," said I. "I'd be as glad of ten pounds asanybody, but I must know first what I'm expected to do for it."

  "It's an easy enough thing to do," he replied. "Only it's got to be donethis very night, and I'm laid here, and can't do it. You can do it,without danger, and at little trouble--only--it must be done private."

  "You want me to do something that nobody's to know about?" I asked.

  "Precisely!" said he. "Nobody! Not even your mother--for even the best ofwomen have tongues."

  I hesitated a little--something warned me that there was more in all thisthan I saw or understood at the moment.

  "I'll promise this, Mr. Gilverthwaite," I said presently. "If you'lltell me now what it is you want, I'll keep that a dead secret fromanybody for ever. Whether I'll do it or not'll depend on the nature ofyour communication."

  "Well spoken, lad!" he answered, with a feeble laugh. "You've the makingsof a good lawyer, anyway. Well, now, it's this--do you know thisneighbourhood well?"

  "I've never known any other," said I.

  "Do you know where Till meets Tweed?" he asked.

  "As well as I know my own mother's door!" I answered.

  "You know where that old--what do they call it?--chapel, cell, somethingof that nature, is?" he asked again.

  "Aye!--well enough, Mr. Gilverthwaite," I answered him. "Ever since I wasin breeches!"

  "Well," said he, "if I was my own man, I ought to meet another man nearthere this very night. And--here I am!"

  "You want me to meet this other man?" I asked.

  "I'm offering you ten pound if you will," he answered, with a quick look."Aye, that is what I'm wanting!"

  "To do--what?" I inquired.

  "Simple enough," he said. "Nothing to do but to meet him, to give him aword that'll establish what they term your bony fides, and a message fromme that I'll have you learn by heart before you go. No more!"

  "There's no danger in it?" I asked.

  "Not a spice of danger!" he asserted. "Not half as much as you'd find inserving a writ."

  "You seem inclined to pay very handsomely for it, all the same," Iremarked, still feeling a bit suspicious.

  "And for a simple reason," he retorted. "I must have some one to dothe job--aye, if it costs twenty pound! Somebody must meet thisfriend o' mine, and tonight--and why shouldn't you have ten pound aswell as another?"

  "There's nothing to do but what you say?" I asked.

  "Nothing--not a thing!" he affirmed.

  "And the time?" I said. "And the word--for surety?"

  "Eleven o'clock is the time," he answered. "Eleven--an hour beforemidnight. And as for the word--get you to the place and wait about a bit,and if you see nobody there, say out loud, 'From James Gilverthwaite asis sick and can't come himself'; and when the man appears, as he will,say--aye!--say 'Panama,' my lad, and he'll understand in a jiffy!"

  "Eleven o'clock--Panama," said I. "And--the message?"

  "Aye!" he answered, "the message. Just this, then: 'James Gilverthwaiteis laid by for a day or two, and you'll bide quiet in the place you knowof till you hear from him.' That's all. And--how will you get out there,now?--it's a goodish way."

  "I have a bicycle," I answered, and at his question a thought struck me."How did you intend to get out there yourself, Mr. Gilverthwaite?" Iasked. "That far--and at that time of night?"

  "Aye!" he said. "Just so--but I'd ha' done it easy enough, my lad--if Ihadn't been laid here. I'd ha' gone out by the last train to the nigheststation, and it being summer I'd ha' shifted for myself somehow duringthe rest of the night--I'm used to night work. But--that's neither herenor there. You'll go? And--private?"

  "I'll go--and privately," I answered him. "Make yourself easy."

  "And not a word to your mother?" he asked anxiously.

  "Just so," I replied. "Leave it to me."

  He looked vastly relieved at that, and after assuring him that I had themessage by heart I left his chamber and went downstairs. After all, itwas no great task that he had put on me. I had often stayed until verylate at the office, where I had the privilege of reading law-books atnights, and it was an easy business to mention to my mother that Iwouldn't be in that night so very early. That part of my contract withthe sick man upstairs I could keep well enough, in letter and spirit--allthe same, I was not going out along Tweed-side at that hour of the nightwithout some safeguard, and though I would tell no one of what mybusiness for Mr. Gilverthwaite precisely amounted to, I would tell oneperson where it would take me, in case anything untoward happened and Ihad to be looked for. That person was the proper one for a lad to go tounder the circumstances--my sweetheart, Maisie Dunlop.

  And here I'll take you into confidence and say that at that time Maisieand I had been sweethearting a good two years, and were as certain ofeach other as if the two had been twelve. I doubt if there was suchanother old-fashioned couple as we were anywhere else in the BritishIslands, for already we were as much bound up in each other as if we hadbeen married half a lifetime, and there was not an affair of mine that Idid not tell her of, nor had she a secret that she did not share with me.But then, to be sure, we had been neighbours all our lives, for herfather, Andrew Dunlop, kept a grocer's shop not fifty yards from ourhouse, and she and I had been playmates ever since our school-days, andhad fallen to sober and serious love as soon as we arrived at what we atany rate called years of discretion--which means that I was nineteen, andshe seventeen, when we first spoke definitely about getting married. Andtwo years had gone by since then, and one reason why I had no objectionto earning Mr. Gilverthwaite's ten pounds was that Maisie and I meant towed as soon as my salary was lifted to three pounds a week, as it soonwas to be, and we were saving money for our furnishing--and ten pounds,of course, would be a nice help.

  So presently I went along the street to Dunlop's and called Maisie out,and we went down to the walls by the river mouth, which was a regularevening performance of ours. And in a quiet corner, where there was aseat on which we often sat whispering together of our future, I toldher that I had to do a piece of business for our lodger that night andthat the precise nature of it was a secret which I must not let outeven to her. />
  "But here's this much in it, Maisie," I went on, taking care that therewas no one near us that could catch a word of what I was saying; "I cantell you where the spot is that I'm to do the business at, for a finelonely spot it is to be in at the time of night I'm to be there--an hourbefore midnight, and the place is that old ruin that's close by whereTill meets Tweed--you know it well enough yourself."

  I felt her shiver a bit at that, and I knew what it was that was in hermind, for Maisie was a girl of imagination, and the mention of a lonelyplace like that, to be visited at such an hour, set it working.

  "Yon's a queer man, that lodger of your mother's, Hughie," she said. "Andit's a strange time and place you're talking of. I hope nothing'll cometo you in the way of mischance."

  "Oh, it's nothing, nothing at all!" I hastened to say. "If you knew itall, you'd see it's a very ordinary business that this man can't dohimself, being kept to his bed. But all the same, there's naught liketaking precautions beforehand, and so I'll tell you what we'll do. Ishould be back in town soon after twelve, and I'll give a tap at yourwindow as I pass it, and then you'll know all's right."

  That would be an easy enough thing to manage, for Maisie's room, whereshe slept with a younger sister, was on the ground floor of her father'shouse in a wing that butted on to the street, and I could knock at thepane as I passed by. Yet still she seemed uneasy, and I hastened to saywhat--not even then knowing her quite as well as I did later--I thoughtwould comfort her in any fears she had. "It's a very easy job, Maisie," Isaid; "and the ten pounds'll go a long way in buying that furniture we'realways talking about."

  She started worse than before when I said that and gripped the hand thatI had round her waist.

  "Hughie!" she exclaimed. "He'll not be giving you ten pounds for a bit ofa ride like that! Oh, now I'm sure there's danger in it! What would a manbe paying ten pounds for to anybody just to take a message? Don't go,Hughie! What do you know of yon man except that he's a stranger thatnever speaks to a soul in the place, and wanders about like he was spyingthings? And I would liefer go without chair or table, pot or pan, thanthat you should be running risks in a lonesome place like that, and atthat time, with nobody near if you should be needing help. Don't go!"

  "You're misunderstanding," said I. "It's a plain and easy thing--I'venothing to do but ride there and back. And as for the ten pounds, it'sjust this way: yon Mr. Gilverthwaite has more money than he knows what todo with. He carries sovereigns in his pockets like they were sixpennypieces! Ten pounds is no more to him that ten pennies to us. And we'vehad the man in our house seven weeks now, and there's nobody could say anill word of him."

  "It's not so much him," she answered. "It's what you may meet--there!For you've got to meet--somebody. You're going, then?"

  "I've given my word, Maisie," I said. "And you'll see there'll be noharm, and I'll give you a tap at the window as I pass your house comingback. And we'll do grand things with that ten pounds, too."

  "I'll never close my eyes till I hear you, then," she replied. "And I'llnot be satisfied with any tap, neither. If you give one, I'll draw theblind an inch, and make sure it's yourself, Hughie."

  We settled it at that, with a kiss that was meant on my part to be one ofreassurance, and presently we parted, and I went off to get my bicycle inreadiness for the ride.