The Five Knots

CHAPTER XXXIV
A HUMAN DERELICT

About the time that Wilfrid was being hurried off in the motor towards Maldon Grange and wondering bitterly if he had a single friend in the world, Russell was coming to himself with a hazy feeling that all was not well with him. He was lying on a couch in his sitting-room, fully dressed. The gas had not been lighted, though it was dark; indeed, as far as he could make out by the street cries, it was late in the evening.

His body was aching from head to foot and his head throbbed with feverish pain. Gradually he began to piece one or two events together. Slowly he began to have a faint idea of where he was and what had happened. He managed to stagger to his feet and ring the bell. His landlady came in, curious. She seemed to be relieved and annoyed at the same time.

"What on earth is the matter?" Russell groaned. "And how did I manage to get here? What time of day or night is it?"

"It is not quite half-past nine, sir," the landlady replied. "You came home this morning about seven o'clock. I didn't see you myself, but that is what they tell me. However, I suppose young men will be young men."

There was no mistaking the significance of the last few words, and, despite his racking head, Russell smiled.

"So you think it is like that, do you?" he said. "Let me assure you that you are mistaken. I had an adventure last night which very nearly landed me into serious trouble. But we need not go into that now. If you can get me something to eat I shall be glad, and please let me have a large syphon of soda."

Russell dragged himself into his bedroom where he felt all the better for a bath. Then he swallowed a strong dose of sal volatile, which had the effect of clearing his head and making him feel almost a man again. He managed to eat a fairly good meal presently and partake of a strong whisky and soda, after which he lit his pipe and sat down to review the events of the previous evening. It was all clear to him now.

"What a fool I was!" he murmured. "And yet I don't see how I could have helped it. I thought I could have managed a couple of opium pipes without getting into such a state. And the worst of it is that the night was wasted. By the way, I wonder if the night really was wasted. Perhaps I shall recollect something that will put me on the right track. And, by Jove, I've forgotten all about Mercer. Has he been here to-day, or has he been busy with his own affairs? It is maddening to cut time to waste like this. The best thing I can do is to see Uzali."

Russell's naturally strong constitution had asserted itself by now. He even felt ready to undertake another adventure. And time was pressing, too, for he had more or less wasted the last few weeks in London, on his way home from Borneo, and his supply of money was getting very low. He was thinking of putting on his hat and coat when the landlady came to the door of the sitting-room with the information that somebody desired to see him.

"Send him up," Russell said casually.

"I suppose it is all right, sir," the landlady said dubiously. "I suppose you are capable of taking care of yourself. The person downstairs is not quite the sort of man one cares about having on the front door-step. Still, sir – "

Russell waved his hand impatiently and the landlady disappeared.

She came back presently followed by a tall figure in the last stages of dilapidation. The man had seen better days, for his black frock suit had been well cut and his boots were not without a reminiscence of Bond Street. Now he was shiny and seedy to the last degree; a mass of dirty, greasy hair hung over his shoulders, and the top hat which he held gingerly between his thumb and forefinger had lost most of its colour and shape. It was plain what had brought the man to this pass, for the facts were written in his bleary eyes and shaky fingers. He glanced uneasily at Russell as if somewhat doubtful as to his reception. The latter rose and motioned his visitor to a chair. Then he closed the door carefully.

"I hope I have come at the proper time," the stranger said.

"Oh, that's all right, Goatley," Russell replied. "Let me see, it must be quite two years since we met. You came to me when I was living at the other side of London and asked me to buy certain information from you. As the information was by no means complete I refused the deal. I am prepared to open it again now if you can tell me anything definite."

The stranger cowered over the fire warming his long blue hands; his lean frame shivered from time to time as if he and warmth had long been strangers. He lifted his bleared eyes to Russell and his glance fell again.

"I think I can help you," he said, "in fact, I am certain of it. I should have come to you before, only there was one little matter that I couldn't get to the bottom of anyway. And now I think I have got everything straight. But perhaps you have changed your mind. You used to be keen enough on getting even with Samuel Flower – "

"Ah, now you are beginning to talk," Russell exclaimed. "If you can help me there I am prepared to pay you handsomely. You look as if a few pounds would do you good."

"It isn't altogether that," Goatley murmured. "Though, Heaven knows, a sovereign or two will be my salvation. If you ask me how I have spent the past two years I couldn't tell you. I have been as low down as a man can get, though I don't mind owning that I have had my bits of luck occasionally. At present I am down to my last penny and I shall be turned out of my lodgings this evening if I can't find at least a sovereign. You wouldn't call them lodgings. They're not fit for a dog. But they have been a home to me, and I am getting fairly desperate. And while I have been starving, eager even to snatch a broken crust from the gutter, that scoundrel has been flourishing on the fat of the land. My own flesh and blood, too! I should like to know where Samuel Flower would have been to-day had it not been for me. I gave him his start in life. I pushed him up the ladder. And when he thought he was safe, he turned and ruined me as if I had been a deadly enemy. Do you suppose he would ever have made his money in Borneo if it hadn't been for me? I tell you when I wake up in the night and think of it I could find it in my heart to kill him. But I have neither nerve nor pluck left. I daresay if he were to pass me in the street and throw me a shilling I should pick it up with gratitude. But if I haven't the courage to strike for myself, I know those who have. And you are one of them, Mr. Russell. Oh, I can show you the way to pull him down, to make him the scorn of his fellow men. I have waited for this opportunity for years, and by great good luck it has come at last. But you will repay me, Mr. Russell. You will not allow me to starve when you come into your own."

All this came from Goatley in a vehement stream of concentrated passion which set him coughing until it was painful to witness his struggles for breath. With a sudden impulse Russell set food upon the table and invited his guest to eat and drink. Goatley did not need a second invitation. He fell upon the cold meat like a wolf. Then, gradually, the greedy look left his eye, he lay back in his chair and took the cigarette which Russell offered him. Something like manhood had returned.

"Whatever you do for me shall be well paid for," Russell said. "Now tell me what you have discovered. I know you have a great deal of information. I know that you were well acquainted with North Borneo before Samuel Flower ever went there. But I seem to know as much about Samuel Flower as you can teach me. Now if you could only tell me where one would come upon the track of Jansen – "

Goatley laughed as he puffed at his cigarette.

"We shall come to that in good time," he said. "But perhaps you had better hear what I have to say as to what happened to me last night. I was making my way back to Drury Lane, where the place which I call my home is situated, and was passing on the far side of Gower Street near the house where Samuel Flower lives in town. It was very late, and just as I reached the spot I saw a man on the doorstep talking to one of Flower's servants. I don't know why I stopped, or why I listened. But I did. My hearing is exceptionally good and I could follow everything that was said; so I lingered and listened, perhaps as much out of curiosity as anything. I gathered that the stranger wanted to see Flower on business, and that my dear friend had not come home yet. There was something peculiar in the accent of the caller which impelled me to wait till he had left the house. I followed him to the top of the street and even farther. Can you guess who he was?"

"I think so," Russell said cheerfully. "You are going to tell me that you have found Jansen at last. Come, this won't be a bad evening's work for you."

CHAPTER XXXV
JANSEN AT HOME

"Is the information worth five pounds?" Goatley asked.

"The information is worth five pounds," Russell said emphatically. "Especially as I take it that you can put your hand upon our man at any moment. Now what happened afterwards?"

"Well, I walked the streets till late in the morning, never losing sight of the Dutchman until he returned to the neighbourhood of Gower Street. The second time he called at Flower's house he was more successful, for he was inside the place for an hour before he came out again, on the best of terms with himself, and went off towards Gray's Inn Road. I tracked him to a house there, where I presume he lives, for he let himself in with a latch-key, and presently I saw a light in one of the windows over the shop. The place is a small bird-fancier's, and from what I could see I should say that Jansen has a couple of rooms and does for himself. I have the name and address. If you think it is likely to be of any use to you – "

"So far so good," Russell exclaimed. "But do you think that Jansen is there now?"

"He was there half an hour ago, because I came straight from Gray's Inn Road," Goatley explained.

Russell rose abruptly and took some money out of his pocket which he handed over to Goatley.

"There are the five pounds to go on with," he said. "And it is for you to say whether they shall be the last I shall ever give you, or whether they shall be multiplied a hundredfold. It is entirely in your hands, and if you can keep off the drink you ought to do very well over this."

"Never fear about that," Goatley laughed. "I would do much for money, but I would do a great deal more for revenge. But for that scoundrelly cousin of mine, I should have been in a good position to-day. Look at me now, and contrast me with what I was when you first knew me. If I stopped the first gentleman I met in the street and told him that I was an old University man he would laugh me to scorn. And yet you know I should be speaking the truth. But I am wasting your time. What do you want me to do? I don't suppose you made me a present of that five pounds."

"I didn't," Russell said curtly. "I want you to go back and keep an eye upon Jansen, and when he leaves his rooms, as he will probably do soon, you must follow him and ascertain where he goes. Then you can come and see me at the Wanderers' Club in Piccadilly where I shall be till midnight. After that I can dispense with your services for the present, but you had better keep in touch with me. But you will do that for your own sake as well as mine. I think that is all."

Goatley departed, feeling all the better for his meal, having also informed Russell of Flower's departure for Maldon Grange. Russell thought he could be trusted. Now he had to look up Uzali.

The latter was dressed. He had recently dined, for the things were still on the table and the occupant of the room was seated before the fire reading an evening paper. There was a shrewd smile on his face as he welcomed Russell.

"You mustn't take any notice of me," he said. "I have had an accident which accounts for the marks on my face, but I am feeling myself again. Have you anything fresh to tell me? I am all curiosity."

"Don't you think you had better be candid with me?" Russell asked. "If we are going to work together in this matter you should explain how you received those marks on your face."

"Quite right," Uzali agreed. "Anyway, if I don't tell you, Wilfrid Mercer will. I am like a colonel commanding a regiment whose men have been fired on by his own troops. But sit down and take a cigarette, and I will tell you all about it."

Russell listened to the story without comment, though the situation was grave enough.

"It doesn't seem to trouble you much," he said by and by. "But doesn't it strike you as ominous that your fellow-countrymen should attack you in this way?"

"Well, you see, it might have been an accident," Uzali explained. "I haven't met those men face to face yet, at least not in such a way that recognition might be mutual. And they may be priests. If they are, I should have no more command over them than you would. Honestly, the situation is somewhat alarming. I suppose all we can do is to try to catch one of my countrymen red-handed in his next attack on Mr. Flower."

"Well, that won't be in London," Russell answered. "I have just had a man named Goatley with me. I don't suppose you have ever heard of him, but it was he, in the first place, who induced Samuel Flower to undertake a voyage to Borneo. He knows as much about the whole thing as we do, and he tells me that Samuel Flower has gone back to Maldon Grange within the last two hours. There is no doubt that Flower has been made the subject of a second attack, for he was conveyed to Maldon Grange in a motor-ambulance, which points to another step in the tragedy. I thought you would like to know this because it is important."

Uzali rose excitedly to his feet.

"It is important," he cried. "Then those people were more or less successful in their attempt last night. We must get down to Maldon Grange without delay lest a worse thing happen. I suppose it is too late to think about going there to-night?"

Russell said the thing was impossible before morning.

"I couldn't manage it," he went on. "Besides, there are matters which need an explanation. We have not got to the bottom of things yet, and I want you to see Goatley."

Uzali announced himself as ready to do whatever Russell required of him. It was getting on towards twelve o'clock when they left the flat and made their way along Piccadilly to the Wanderers' Club. An inquiry of the porter elicited the fact that nobody had been asking for Mr. Russell, so that they were fain to wait in the smoking-room. About half an hour later a message came to Russell that some one wanted to see him outside on pressing business, whereupon he rose and signed Uzali to follow him. Goatley stood waiting patiently upon the pavement, though his manner was eager and excited. One glance at his face showed Russell that he had not forgotten his promise as to alcohol.

"Have you any news for us?"

"'Hextra speshul,'" Goatley replied. "I had to wait outside his rooms so long that my patience was nearly exhausted. He has gone to a music-hall over the river. I forget the name, but I can take you."

A cab was called and the music-hall was soon reached, a shabby concern leading out of one of the streets off Waterloo Road. Late as it was the place was still fairly well filled with a rabble of men and women enjoying themselves after the fashion of their kind, though most people would have found the entertainment dreary to the last degree. A moment or two later as the smoke cleared, the form of Jansen was to be seen at one of the small tables, where he was talking earnestly to a companion whose face was partially hidden behind a big ulster overcoat the hood of which he had drawn over his head. Russell, however, recognized the features of the man he was in search of.

"I have made no mistake, sir?" Goatley asked.

"You have made no mistake," Russell said in tones of satisfaction. "I should know that rascal anywhere. You have done an exceedingly good night's work and can go back to your rooms with the feeling that you have earned your money. See me in the morning and I will tell you what to do next. And if you could effect a change for the better in your wardrobe – "

Goatley nodded and went his way, so that Russell was free to take stock of the man whom he had been looking for so long. He was not more interested than Uzali, who kept his eyes fixed upon the two intently; indeed, Russell had to speak to him more than once before he could get a reply from his companion.

"Yes, yes," Uzali whispered. "But it is nearly one, and all these people will be going soon. Let us get outside and wait. I have a particular reason for wishing to see who it is that Jansen has in his company."

The request was so significant that Russell rose without further protest. They stood together in the shade waiting till the audience poured out. Jansen and a little man in an ulster were almost the last to appear. Russell saw Uzali's eyes glisten.

"Let us follow them," the latter whispered. "It is as I thought. The man in the coat is one of my countrymen."

CHAPTER XXXVI
LEADING THE WAY

To all outward appearances, the little bird-fancier's shop in Gray's Inn Road was innocent enough, and no doubt the police would have given the tenant of the shop a good character if they had been asked about his antecedents. The proprietor was a born naturalist and was too much devoted to his studies to make his business a success. He was a dried-up little man who lived behind the shop where he did entirely for himself, for he had a morbid horror of everything in the shape of woman. He cared little or nothing for the litter and confusion which marked his sitting-room, and as long as he could pay his rent was satisfied to pass a monotonous existence. It was, therefore, a stroke of luck for Mr. Giles when a somewhat obese foreigner walked into his shop one day and asked if he had a couple of rooms to spare. Giles had the rooms to spare, but there was no furniture in them, and he could not depart from his rule that no woman should ever set foot on the premises. Instead of regarding these statements as drawbacks, the would-be lodger affected to receive them with every demonstration of approval.

"Ah, my friend," he said, "this is just what I want. I am an old traveller. I have seen a great deal of the world and have always been accustomed to do for myself. If I pay ten shillings a week for these rooms and bring my own furniture, will that satisfy you, eh? I will not interfere with you and you will not interfere with me. I will cook my own food and do my own cleaning and everything. What I want is quiet, for I am writing a book on my travels, and must not be interrupted."

There was only one reply to such an offer, and that was to close with it with alacrity. Ten shillings a week would make all the difference between affluence and poverty to the naturalist. It would pay his rent and enable him to buy such books as his soul coveted. Within a week Jansen was established in his new quarters. It was no empty boast that his landlord and he would see little of one another, for weeks passed at a time without their exchanging a word.

Meanwhile, Jansen was conquering a certain shyness with which he had been afflicted during the earlier part of his tenancy. At first he hardly left the house except at night, but now he walked in and out, whistling blithely to himself as if he had no care or trouble in the world.

So far as his sitting-room was concerned, there was no reason to disregard his statement that he was writing a book. One or two tables were littered with papers, but maps and strange-looking plans which could have only been properly understood by an engineer were most in evidence.

One night, Jansen had cooked his frugal supper over a spirit-lamp, and then put his cooking utensils on one side and lighted a big Dutch pipe. From time to time he glanced at the noisy little clock on the mantel-piece as if anxious he should not forget some important appointment. He drew from his pocket a bundle of letters which he spread out on his ample knee. The contents of the letters appeared to give him satisfaction, for he chuckled again and again as he read them.

"Strange what mistakes clever men make sometimes," he muttered. "There is Flower, who thinks he has deceived everybody. Well, he has not hoodwinked me. Ah, it is true that, as the philosopher says, everything comes to him who knows how to wait, and my three years have not been wasted. Within a few weeks there will no longer be either Samuel Flower nor Cotter to stand in the way. And all I shall have to do is to go down to Maldon Grange and help myself, and spend the rest of my life in ease and pleasure."

Jansen glanced at the clock again, which now indicated the half hour after nine. He rose from his seat and walked on tip-toe towards the door. Despite his great weight he made no more noise than a cat. He could hear his landlord bustling about in the back of the shop as he crept down the stairs and opened the front door. He stood there just a moment with the light of the gas behind him, looking up and down the street as if searching for some one. Then, presently, out of the shadows emerged a slight figure wearing a long overcoat and tall silk hat. As the figure passed Jansen the latter held out a detaining hand.

"All right, my friend," he said. "I am waiting for you. Come this way."

The figure made no demur; no remark whatever crossed his lips. He followed Jansen quietly upstairs into the sitting-room, the door of which was then carefully closed. No word was spoken till Jansen produced the materials for the filling and smoking of an opium pipe which he handed to his companion. The latter had discarded his hat and overcoat. He looked out of place in his European costume as he squatted on the floor with the pipe between his lips.

"You know why you are here?" Jansen asked.

"I know very well," the Oriental said stolidly. "I come because you are willing to help me. You will tell me how, and when it is all over you are going to show me that which I can take back to my country whence your countryman stole it. That is why I am here to-night."

"Quite right," Jansen said cheerfully. "But you are moving too fast. We don't do things so rapidly in this country. Do you know that your man has gone again? Do you know that he left London to-night?"

The Eastern looked up and his beady eyes gleamed like stars. Cold-blooded man of the world as he was Jansen shuddered as he noticed the glance.

"What I am telling you is the truth," he went on. "He has gone. They have spirited him away, and no doubt they fancy he is out of harm's reach."

"He is not," the Malay said unconcernedly. "Were he at the end of the world he would not be safe from us. Have we not waited and watched and travelled all these years, and did not the star of luck shine upon us at last? You know whether it is true that that man is safe."

"Oh, we know," Jansen said cheerfully. "But the point is this, my friend; you are in a civilized country where the police have peculiar ideas. If they can lay hands upon you they won't care a rap about your religious scruples. You will find yourself within the walls of an English gaol and the two of you will be hanged to a certainty. What about your revenge then? Your prey will escape you, secure in the knowledge that he has no longer anybody to fear. He will be able to enjoy his ill-gotten gains with a light heart. You are taking this thing too easily. Now suppose I can show you a way – "

Once more the Oriental's eyes glistened.

"You are bound to show us a way," he said. "You are pledged to it. Are you not one of us? Have you not taken the sacred vows? And if you should dare to play us false – "

"Come, come, don't talk like that," Jansen said in an injured tone. "Do be reasonable. Didn't I ask you here to-night on purpose to show you a way. But it will be useless unless I can see both of you together. If you are not going to trust me, you had better go your own way and there will be an end of it."

Jansen shrugged his shoulders as if he washed his hands of the whole transaction. Out of the corners of his narrow eyes the man squatting on the floor watched him intently. By and by he laid down his pipe with a sigh and produced from his pocket a flimsy bit of paper on which he proceeded to scribble something with a charcoal pencil. Even then he hesitated before he handed it over to Jansen. The latter assumed an attitude of indifference which he was very far from feeling.

"There," the Malay said, "that is where you will find him at twelve of the clock to-night. I have trusted everything into your hands, and if you fail us – but you will not fail us. You must see him and bring him here so that we may talk this matter over."

Jansen thrust the paper carelessly into his pocket as if it were of no importance. He began to talk of other matters likely to interest the Oriental. He spoke of the latter's country and people whilst the little man nodded drowsily over the opium pipes which his host was preparing for him. Finally his head fell back upon the carpet and he lay in the deep sleep which the drug produces.

"Good," Jansen muttered. "It is better luck than I anticipated. I did not expect to get two birds with one stone. And now to sweep the other into the net."