The Dark Eyes of London Read Online

"Then we'll leave the examination of these until I come back. I have to see somebody." He slipped the tray into the closet and locked the door, handing the key to the girl. He was halfway to the door when he remembered.

    "You won't be here when I come back? I suppose you have some sort of office hours?"

    "I make it a practice never to stay after two o'clock in the morning," she said gravely.

    She met the frank admiration in his eyes without embarrassment.

    "I don't think I have ever met a girl like you," he said slowly, and as though he were speaking his thoughts aloud.

    She flushed and dropped her gaze. Then she laughed and looked at him again, and he thought that her eyes were like stars.

    "It may be that we have never met anybody like each other," she said.

    And Larry Holt left Scotland Yard, conscious that a new and a very potent interest had come into his life.

    Flash Fred had seen Larry Holt off the premises of the railway terminus; for, though he had left the station building first, he had waited until Larry's taxi had gone.

    He had a particular desire that he should not be shadowed that evening, and to this was engrafted a wholesome respect for the perspicacity and genius of Larry Holt. On the Continent of Europe, wherever crook met crook, it was generally and unanimously agreed that the first person they wished to meet on the other side on the Styx was Larry Holt. Only they did not say "on the other side of the Styx"; they said, simply and crudely, "in hell". The ruthlessness of this man, once he got his nose on to the trail, was a tradition and a legend; and Fred, more than any other man, had reason to fear him.

    He gave Holt ten minutes' start and then doubled back to the station, left his suit-case at the cloak room and came out at one of the side entrances where the cabs were ranked, and, choosing the first of these, he gave an address. Ten minutes later he was set down in a quiet Bloomsbury square, devoted in the main to lawyers' offices. There was an exception to these. The building at which he alighted was a narrow and tall erection of red brick, and though no light showed in the lower office, there was a subdued gleam in the windows of the upper floor. A commissionaire on duty in the hall looked at Fred askance.

    "The office has been closed for hours, sir," he said, shaking his head. "We open at nine in the morning."

    "Is Dr Judd on the premises?" asked Flash Fred, shifting his cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other.

    The commissionaire hesitated.

    "Mr Judd is still busy, sir, and I don't think he wants to see anybody."

    "Oh, you don't, don't you?" sneered Fred. "Now, you go upstairs to the governor and tell him that Mr Walter Smith wants to see him. Don't forget the name—It's an unusual one," he added humorously.

    The commissionaire looked dubiously at the visitor.

    "I shall only get into trouble," he grumbled, as he stepped into one of the two small elevators and, pressing the automatic knob, he went quickly up out of view.

    Apparently Mr Judd's office was situated on the top floor, for it was some time before the whine of the motor ceased. After a while it began again, and the commissionaire descended.

    "He'll see you, sir," he said. "Will you step this way?"

    "You ought to know me by now, sergeant," said Fred as he walked into the lift. "I've been here pretty regularly the past few years."

    "Maybe I wasn't on duty," said the commissionaire as the lift slowly ascended, "There are two of us here, you know. Were you a friend of Mr David's, sir?"

    Fred did not chuckle, he did not even smile. "No, no," he said airily, "I don't know Mr David."

    "Ah, very sad, very sad!" said the commissionaire. "He died suddenly four years ago, you know, sir."

    Fred did know, but he did not confess the fact. The death of Mr David had robbed him of a possible source of income by right, whereas now he only had that income by favour, and might at any time lose that and gain a term of imprisonment if the jovial Dr Judd grew tired of paying blackmail.

    The lift stopped and he stepped out and followed the commissionaire to a door, at which the uniformed man knocked. A loud voice bade them come in, and Flash Fred swaggered into the handsome apartment with a cool nod to its occupant.

    Dr Judd had risen to meet him.

    "All right, sergeant," he said to the commissionaire, and flicked a silver coin across the room, which the man caught deftly.

    "Get me some cigarettes," he said. And when the door had closed: "Sit down, you rascal," said Dr Judd good-humouredly. "I suppose you've come to get your pound of flesh." He was a tall, stout man, florid of face and heavy of build. His forehead was bald, his eyes were deep-set and wide apart; he had about him an air of comfort and boisterous good humour, Fred, in no wise abashed, sat down on the edge of a chair.

    "Well, doctor," he said, "I'm back." Dr Judd shook his head and searched his pockets for a cigarette.

    "What do you want—a cigarette?" said Fred, reaching for his case, but the doctor shook his head and his smile was broad, good-humoured but significant.

    "No, thank you, Mr Grogan," he said with a chuckle. "I don't smoke cigarettes that are presented to me by gentlemen of your profession."

    "What is my profession?" growled Flash Fred. "You don't think I was trying to dope you, do you?"

    "I was expecting you," said the other, without answering the question, and seated himself. "If I remember rightly, you have a strong objection to taking cheques."

    Flash Fred grinned.

    "Quite right, governor," he said. "That is still my weakness." The doctor took a bunch of keys from his pocket, walked to the safe, snapped back the lock, and then, looking over his shoulder: "You needn't watch this too closely, my friend; except when I have to pay blackmailers, I never keep money in this safe." Fred made a little grimace.

    "Hard words never killed anybody," he said sententiously.

    The doctor took out a packet, slammed the door and turned the key, came slowly back to the desk and threw down a fat envelope. Then he consulted a little book which he took from a drawer.

    "You're three days ahead of your time," he said, and Fred nodded admiringly.

    "What a brain you've got for figures, doctor!" he said.