The Red Mouse Part 23

"You're quite a business woman, Mrs. Challoner."

"I have to be," she acknowledged with a smile that was intensely pathetic.

"And that's all you have?" he asked a moment later.

"Absolutely."

"Your house," mused Murgatroyd, half to himself, "will take care of Thorne's fee."

"How much will that be?"

Murgatroyd jerked his head nervously.

"Thorne?--Oh, he'll take all he can get!" There was a short silence which Murgatroyd suddenly broke. "Mrs. Challoner, your attempt to bribe is no longer an attempt. You have succeeded. I shall set your husband free!"

Mrs. Challoner smiled while the tears trickled down her cheeks.

"I shall get you the hundred thousand dollars right away," she said, as if it were a mere bagatelle.

"Just one moment, please," continued Murgatroyd, waving her back into her seat, for she had risen. "I shall set your husband free for _eight hundred and sixty thousand dollars_!"

Miriam Challoner leaned back in her chair. She seemed to hesitate.

"For everything I have!" she muttered half aloud.

Murgatroyd reached over and touched her on the arm, and repeated in the same tone:--

"Everything you have!" And added: "Surely you did not think that I would sell myself for less?"

"No, no, of course not," she faltered. "I wish I had millions to give you. You are a good man--you are doing a good act."

Murgatroyd shook his head and said somewhat impatiently:--

"Mrs. Challoner, this is a business transaction; let us close it. You can get those securities to-day, I suppose?"

"Yes," she replied in the next breath, the flush of joy still on her face.

"Then do so, please." His voice was hoa.r.s.e now. "And bring them to me here wrapped up in brown paper. You understand that n.o.body must know about this. You know what it would mean to me, to you, to Challoner ..."

"Yes, yes," she cried eagerly, and held out her hand. "It's an agreement."

But Murgatroyd purposely ignored her hand and abruptly turned away, saying:--

"This matter must be closed at once."

And with a confident "I'll be back in half an hour," Mrs. Challoner pa.s.sed out of the door, which Murgatroyd had softly and noiselessly unlocked.

The man who presently was brought out of the barred ante-room and taken before the prosecutor might have been anything from a floor-walker of a big department store to a manager of a renowned rathskeller. It was evident from the manner in which he bore himself while under the constant surveillance of the minions of the law, that he was perfectly at home in the presence of strangers, and that unusual situations did not feaze him. In the matter of general adornment of the person, however, Pemmican of the low brow was an exception to his cla.s.s: no diamond blazed from his shirt-front or fingers; moreover, he was dressed in the most sombre of blacks, and under his soft felt hat of the same colour the hair was brushed forward with scrupulous care. The long, thin, smooth-shaven face, the little, deep-set eyes, the abnormally low brow, which was accentuated by this odd arrangement of his hair, the pasty complexion, all gave one the impression of dignified sleekness. In other words, one could easily have pictured the man as performing in a most impressive manner the last offices needed by man here below. To sum up, the att.i.tude of the man now waiting for the prosecutor to address him--Pemmican of the low brow always knew his place--produced the effect of distressed meekness.

"Pemmican," said Murgatroyd, all geniality and good-fellowship now, "how are they treating you?" And then, with a chuckle: "You look peaked, my man!"

It was second nature to Pemmican to swallow his indignation and simulate cheerfulness, but he answered peevishly:--

"No wonder I'm all to the bad. But why am I kept locked up in this house of detention?"

McGrath grinned and spoke for the prosecutor.

"Witnesses is wary game and scarce; it ain't always the open season, so we got to keep 'em in cold storage, see?"

Pemmican ignored this remark, but turned to the prosecutor, and there was a whine in the voice that said:--

"You made my bail so infernally large that my friends would not put it up for me."

"I did it purposely," Murgatroyd declared, still smiling. "This is an important case; you are the only witness; and I've got to keep you where your friends cannot reach you--" here a faint flush spread over the prosecutor's countenance--"cannot corrupt you, Pemmican."

Suddenly Murgatroyd rose from his revolving chair. He nodded a dismissal to McGrath; and then going over to a table in the centre of the room, he drew to him a sheet of foolscap from a pile lying there, and said:--

"Come over here, Pemmican!" There was an article of some kind in the hand that rested on the table. "Just sketch me here--on this paper--a little plan showing the position of the men in Room A that night."

"Sure," volunteered Pemmican, taking the proffered pencil; "now, here was Colonel Hargraves, here was----"

He stopped abruptly. For he had seen that the article in Murgatroyd's hand was a wallet marked "R. H."

"Go on!" said Murgatroyd.

"And here was--" Pemmican stopped again.

"What are you looking at?" Murgatroyd asked. "Oh, that?" he said casually, and pa.s.sed the wallet to Pemmican.

Pemmican started and backed away.

"I don't want it. It ain't mine. I don't know what it is--what is it, anyhow?" he gulped. "No, counsellor," he added; "and besides, I wasn't looking at it."

Murgatroyd patted the wallet.

"It was Colonel Hargraves's pocketbook," he said. "I thought you recognised it."

"Never saw it before, counsellor," he repeated sulkily; "never saw it before."

"You must have seen it," persisted Murgatroyd; "it's pretty well worn, and he must have carried it a long time. He was one of your patrons. The fact is, Pemmican," he went on, "this wallet was the occasion of my sending for you just now. I am informed that when Hargraves last carried it the wallet was full of bills; and when he was found in the street it was quite empty. It is a mere detail, but I should like to know whether Challoner robbed this man as well as killed him."

Pemmican slowly shook his head.

"Can't help you out," he answered, "for I never saw the wallet. I don't know...."

Murgatroyd went off on another tack.