by J. J. Bell
CHAPTER II
Within a few minutes the servant returned.
"The gentlemen have gone, sir, and Monsoor Guidet is ready," he said,then looked hard at his master.
The master appeared to rouse himself. "Tell Guidet to go ahead. He'llrequire your assistance, I expect. Stay!" He pointed to the diamonds."Put them in the box, Caw."
The man restored the glittering trays to their places with as muchemotion as if they had contained samples of bird-seed. When he had letdown the lid--
"Your pardon, Mr. Craig, but won't you allow me to ring for Dr.Handyside now?"
"Confound you, Caw, do what you're told!"
"Very good, sir," said Caw sadly, moving off.
"And look here, Caw; if I'm crusty, you know why. And I shan't bebullying you for long. That's all."
Caw bowed his head and went out. On the landing he threw up his hands."My God!" he said under his breath, "can nothing be done to save him?"For here was a man who loved his master better than himself. One wondersif Caw had ever forgot for an hour in all those twenty years thatChristopher Craig had lifted him from the gutter and given him the chancewhich the world seemed to have denied him.
Shortly afterwards he entered the room with Monsieur Guidet. The twomoved slowly, cautiously, for between them they carried a heavy andseemingly fragile object.
"Go ahead," said Christopher, "and let me know when it is finished." Heclosed his eyes.
Nearly an hour passed before he opened them in response to hisservant's voice.
"Monsieur has now finished, sir."
He sat up at once. From a drawer he took a large stout envelope alreadyaddressed and sealed with wax.
"Caw, get on your cycle and take this to the post. Have it registered.And put a chair for Monsieur Guidet--there--no, nearer--that's right.Order a cab to take Monsieur to the steamer. He and I will have a chattill you return.... Monsieur, come and sit down."
As Caw left the room the Frenchman turned from his completed handiwork toaccept his patron's invitation. He was a dapper, stout little man, merryof eye, despite the fact that a couple of months ago he and his familyhad been in bitter poverty. He smiled very happily as he took the chairbeside the writing table. He was about to receive the balance of hisaccount, amounting, according to agreement, to two hundred pounds.
The work done was embodied in the clock and case which now filled,fitting to a nicety, the niche in the back wall. Outwardly there wasnothing very unusual about the clock itself. A gilt box enclosing themechanism and carrying the plain white face, the hands at twelve,occupied the topmost third of the case, which was of thick plate-glassbound and backed with gilt metal. There was no apparent means of openingthe case. From what one could see, however, the workmanship was perfect,exquisite. The compensating pendulum alone was ornamented--with aconventional sun in diamonds, and one could imagine the effect when itswung in brilliant light. At present it was at rest, held up to the rightwall of the case by a loop of fine silk passed through a minute hole inthe glass, brought round to the front, and secured to a tiny nail at theedge of the niche; a snip--the thread withdrawn--and the clock wouldstart on the work it had been designed to perform. The only really oddthings about the whole affair were that the lowest third of the case wasfilled with a liquid, thickish and emerald green and possessing a curiousiridescence, and that just beneath the niche was fixed a strip of ebonytilted upwards and bearing in distinct opal lettering the word:
DANGEROUS
"Well, monsieur," said Christopher Craig, opening cheque-book, "I supposeI can trust your clock to perform all that we bargained for. You willgive me your word for that?"
"Mr. Craik, I give you my word of honour that the clock will go for oneyear and one day; that he will stop on the day appointed, within twohours, on the one side or the other, of the hour he was to start at; thathe will make alarum forty-eight precise hours before he stop; that hewill strike only at noon and at midnight; and that, when the end arrive,he will--"
"Thank you, monsieur."
"But more! I give you more than my word; the credit of the work is somuch to me. I beg to take only one-half of the money now--the other halfwhen you have seen with your own eyes--"
"Enough. I am in your hands, Monsieur Guidet, for the clock shall not bestarted until I am gone."
"Gone?" The little man looked blank.
"Your clock is there to carry out the wishes of a dead man."
"Ah!" Guidet understood at last. All the happiness vanished from hisface. He regarded this man, who had chosen him from a number ofapplicants responding to an advertisement, as his benefactor, hissaviour. "But not soon, not soon!" he cried with emotion.
Christopher was touched. The little man seemed to care, though theiracquaintance was not three months old. Still, they had met almost dailyin the room assigned to Guidet for his work, and the patron had taken aninterest in the man as well as his genius.
"I cannot tell how soon, my friend," he said, "but we need not talk ofit. Now tell me, Guidet, how much do I owe you?"
Guidet wiped his eyes. "One hundred and thirty pounds," he murmured, "andI give you a thousand thanks, Mr. Craik."
"A hundred and thirty--that is the balance due on the clock itself?"inquired Christopher, filling in the date.
The other looked puzzled. "On everything, Mr. Craik."
"Don't you charge for your time?"
Guidet smiled and spread his hands. "Ah, you are not so unwell when youcan make the jokes! Two hundred pounds was the price, and I have receivedseventy of it and the grandest, best holiday--"
"Your wife and children have had no holiday," said Christopher,continuing his writing.
"They have been happy that I am no longer a failure. They shall have alittle holiday now, my best of friends, and then I take the small sharein the business I told you about. Oh, it is all well with us, all rosy asa--a rose! But you!" His voice trailed off in a sigh.
"I am only sorry I shall not be your first customer, Guidet." Christopherblotted the cheque and handed it across the table. "So you must oblige meby accepting instead what I have written there."
The little man read the words--the figures--and gulped. Then his armswent out as if to embrace the man who sat smiling so very wearily. "It istoo much--too much!" he cried, almost weeping. "You are rich, butwhy--why do you give me five hundred pounds?"
"Perhaps," said Christopher sadly, "that you may remember me kindly." Hishand, now shaky, went up to check the other's flow of gratitude. "I'mafraid I must ask you to go now. I must rest--you understand?"
Guidet rose. "So long as we live," he said solemnly, "my family and Iwill not forget. And if it would give you longer life, Mr. Craik, I swearI would put this"--he held up the cheque--"into the fire."
"I thank you," said Christopher gravely, and just then Caw came in. "Andnow farewell."