The Crimson Circle Read Online

Yale?"

    "It means trouble," said Yale shortly. He rose abruptly and began pacing the flagged walk, and Jack, after waiting a little while, left him to his meditations.

    In the meantime, Mr. Felix Marl was comparatively a useless third of a conference which dealt with the transfer of lands. Marl was, as Jack had said, a land speculator, and he had come that morning bringing a promising proposition which he was wholly incapable of explaining.

    "I can't help it, gentlemen," he said, and for the fourth time his trembling hand rose to his lips. "I've had a bit of a shock this morning."

    "What was that?"

    But Marl seemed incapable of explanation. He could only shake his head helplessly. "I'm not fit to discuss things calmly," he said. "You'll have to put the matter off until to-morrow."

    "Do you think I've come here to-day for the purpose of listening to that sort of nonsense?" snarled Mr. Froyant. "I tell you I want this business settled. So do you, Beardmore."

    Jim Beardmore, who was indifferent as to whether the matter was settled then or the following week, laughed.

    "I don't know that it is very important," he said. "If Mr. Marl is upset, why should we bother him? Perhaps you'll stay here to-night. Marl?"

    "No, no, no," the man's voice rose almost to a shout. "No, I won't stay here, if you don't mind—I would much rather not!"

    "Just as you like," said Jim Beardmore indifferently, and folded up the papers he had prepared for signature.

    They walked out into the hall together, and there Jack found them.

    Beardmore's car carried the visitor and his bag back to the station, and from there on Mr. Marl's conduct was peculiar. He registered his bag through to the city, but he himself descended at the next station, and for a man who so disliked walking, and as by nature so averse from physical exercise, he displayed an almost heroic spirit, for he set forth to walk the nine miles which separated him from the Beardmore estate—and he did not go by the shortest route.

    It was nearing nightfall when Mr. Marl made his furtive way into a thick plantation on the edge of the Beardmore property.

    He sat down, a tired, dusty but determined man, and waited for the night to close down over the countryside. And during the period of waiting, he examined with tender care the heavy automatic pistol he had taken from his bag in the train.

    "I CAN'T understand why that fellow hasn't come back this morning," said Jim Beardmore with a frown.

    "Which fellow?" asked Jack carelessly.

    "I'm speaking of Marl," said his father.

    "Was that the large-sized gentleman I saw yesterday?" asked Derrick Yale.

    They were standing on the terrace of the house, which, from its elevated position, gave them a view across the country.

    The morning train had come and gone. They could see the trail of white smoke it left as it disappeared into the foothills nine miles away.

    "Yes. I'd better 'phone Froyant, and tell him not to come over."

    Jim Beardmore stroked his stubbly chin.

    "Marl puzzles me," he said "He is a brilliant fellow I believe, a reformed thief I know—at least I hope he is reformed. What upset him yesterday, Jack? He came into the library looking like death."

    "I haven't the slightest idea," said Jack. "I think he has a weak heart, or something of the sort. He told me he gets these spasms occasionally."

    Beardmore laughed softly, and going into the house returned with a walking-stick.

    "I'm going for a stroll, Jack. No, you needn't come along. I've one or two things I wish to think out, and I promise you, Yale, I won't leave the grounds, though I think you attach too much importance to the threats of these ruffians."

    Yale shook his head.

    "What of the sign on the tree?" he asked.

    Jim Beardmore snorted contemptuously.

    "It will take more than that to extract a hundred thousand from me," he said.

    He waved a farewell at them as he went down the broad stone steps, and they watched him walking slowly across the park.

    "Do you really think my father is in any kind of danger?" asked Jack.

    Yale, who had been staring after the figure, turned with a start.

    "In danger?" he repeated, and then after a second's hesitation. "Yes, I believe there is very serious danger for him in the next day or two."

    Jack turned his troubled gaze upon the disappearing figure.

    "I hope you're wrong," he said. "Father doesn't seem to take the matter as seriously as you."

    "That is because your father has not the same experience," said the detective, "but I understand that he saw Chief Inspector Parr, and the inspector thought there was considerable danger."

    Jack chuckled in spite of his fears.

    "How do the lion and the lamb amalgamate?" he asked. "I didn't think that head-quarters had much use for private men like you, Mr. Yale?"

    "I admire Parr," said Derrick slowly.