The Secret House Part 20

"Tell me, what do you want?" he asked. He had seen the curious gesture that Poltavo had made--the pa.s.s sign which had unbarred the entrance to many strange people.

"I want to see Farrington!" replied Poltavo, coolly.

"Farrington!" Fall's brow knit in a puzzled frown.

"Farrington," repeated Poltavo, impatiently. "Do not let us have any of this nonsense, Fall. I want to see him on a matter of urgency. I am Poltavo."

"I know just who you are," said Fall, calmly, "but why you should come here under the impression that the late Mr. Farrington is an inmate of this establishment I do not understand. We are a lunatic asylum, not a mortuary," he said, with heavy humour.

Still, he led the way upstairs to the drawing-room on the first floor.

"What is the trouble?" he asked, as he closed the door behind him.

Poltavo chose to tell the story of his identification by T. B. Smith rather than the real object of his journey. Fall listened in silence.

"I doubt very much whether he will see you," he said: "he is in his worst mood. However, I will go along and find out what his wishes are."

He was absent for ten minutes, and when he returned he beckoned to the visitor.

Poltavo followed him up the stairs till he came to the room in which the bedridden Mr. Moole lay.

A man turned as the two visitors came in--it was Farrington in the life, Farrington as he had seen him on the night of his disappearance from the box at the Jollity. The big man nodded curtly.

"Why have you come down here," he asked, harshly, "leading half the detectives in London to me?"

"I do not think you need bother about half the detectives in London,"

said Poltavo. He looked at Fall. "I want to see you alone," he said.

Farrington nodded his head and the other departed, closing the door behind him.

"Now," said Poltavo,--he crossed the room with two strides,--"I want to know what you mean--you treacherous dog--by this infernal will of yours!"

"You can sit down," said Farrington, coolly, "and you can learn right now, Poltavo, that I do not stand for any man questioning me as to why I should do this or that, and I certainly do not stand for any human being in the world speaking to me as you are doing."

"You know that you are in my power," said Poltavo, viciously. "Are you aware that I could raise my finger and tumble your precious plot into the dust?"

"There are many things I know," said Farrington, "and if you knew them too you would keep a civil tongue in your head. Sit down. What is the trouble?"

"Why did you leave that instruction in your will? That Doris was to marry this infernal Doughton?"

"For a very good reason."

"Explain the reason!" stormed the angry man.

"I shall do nothing so absurd," smiled Farrington, crookedly; "it is enough when I say I want this girl's happiness. Don't you realize," he went on rapidly, "that the only thing I have in my life, that is at all clean, or precious, or worth while, is my affection for my niece? I want to see her happy; I know that her happiness lies with Doughton."

"You are mad," snarled the other; "the girl is half in love with me."

"With you," Farrington's eyes narrowed; "that is absolutely impossible."

"Why impossible?" demanded Poltavo loudly; "why impossible?" He thumped the table angrily.

"For many reasons," said Farrington. "First, because you are unworthy to be her under-gardener, much less her husband. You are, forgive my frankness, a blackguard, a thief, a murderer, a forger and a bank robber, so far as I know." He smiled. "Yes, I was an interested listener to your conversation with Fall. I have all sorts of weird instruments here by which I can pick up unguarded items of talk, but fortunately I have no need to be informed on this subject. I have as complete a record of your past as our friend Smith, and I tell you, Poltavo, that whilst I am willing that you shall be my agent, and that you shall profit enormously by working hand in hand with me, I would sooner see myself dead than I should hand Doris over to your tender mercies."

An ugly smile played about the lips of Poltavo.

"That is your last word?" he asked.

"That is my last word," said Farrington; "if you will be advised by me, you will let the matter stand where it is. Leave things as they are, Poltavo. You are on the way to making a huge fortune; do not let this absurd sentiment, or this equally absurd ambition of yours, step in and spoil everything."

"And whatever happens you would never allow Doris to marry me?"

"That is exactly what I meant, and exactly what I still say," said Farrington, firmly.

"But, suppose,"--Poltavo's hands caressed his little moustache, and he was smiling wickedly,--"suppose I force your hand?"

Farrington's eyebrows rose. "How?" he demanded.

"Suppose I take advantage of the fact that Miss Doris Gray, an impressionable young English girl, receptive to sympathetic admiration and half in love with me--suppose, I say, I took advantage of this fact, and we marry in the face of your will?"

"You would be sorry," said Farrington, grimly; "you may be sorry that you even threatened as much."

"I not only threaten," snarled Poltavo, "but I will carry out my threat, and you interfere with me at your peril!" He shook his clenched fist in Farrington's face. The elder man looked at him with a long, earnest glance in which his keen eyes seemed to search the very soul of the Russian.

"I wish this had not happened," he said, half to himself. "I had hoped that there was the making of a useful man in you, Poltavo, but I have been mistaken. I never thought that sentiment would creep in. Is it money--her fortune?" he asked, suddenly.

Poltavo shook his head.

"Curse the money," he said, roughly; "I want the girl. I tell you, Farrington, every day she grows more precious and more desirable to me."

"Other women have become precious and desirable to you," said Farrington in a low, pa.s.sionate voice, "and they have enjoyed the fleeting happiness of your favour for--how long? Just as long as you wanted, Poltavo, and when you have been satisfied and sated yourself with joy, you have cast them out as they had been nothing to you. I know your record, my man," he said. "All that I want now is to a.s.sure myself that you are in earnest, because if you are----" He paused.

"If I am----?" sneered Poltavo.

"You will not leave this house alive," said Farrington.

He said it in a matter-of-fact tone, and the full significance of his speech did not dawn upon the Russian until long after he had said it.

For the s.p.a.ce of a second or two his lips were smiling, and then the smile suddenly froze. His hand went back to his hip pocket and reappeared, holding a long-barrelled automatic pistol.

"Don't you try any of your tricks on me," he breathed. "I am quite prepared for all eventualities, Mr. Farrington; you make a mistake to threaten me."

"Not such a mistake as you have made," smiled Farrington. "You may fire your pistol to see if it will go off. My own impression is that the magazine has been removed."

One glance at the weapon was sufficient to demonstrate to the other that the man had spoken the truth. He went deathly white.

"Look here," he said, genially, "let us make an end to this absurd breach of friendship. I have come down to see what I can do for you."