Till the Clock Stops

by J. J. Bell

  CHAPTER XVI

  About four o'clock Bullard came into his private office full ofill-suppressed wrath. Lancaster, who had been waiting for him in fear andtrembling, looked a mute enquiry.

  "Yes," said Bullard harshly, "I found the beast after losing all thoseprecious hours, and I may tell you at once, he had nothing whatever to dowith the disappearance of the Green Box from your cabinet. He accountedfor all his doings after leaving Earl's Gate, and I was able to verifyhis story. He went straight to a filthy gambling hell, lost a lot ofmoney and got dead drunk. He's not decently sober yet."

  "Then who could have done it?" Lancaster forced himself to say.

  "Spare me idiotic questions! What I want to know is why on earth you didnot take better care of the box."

  "I daresay I ought to have put it in my safe," the other stammered, "butyou left it with me as if it was nothing to you, and it--it really hadbecome of so little value--comparatively--"

  "Of little value! Why, its value to us might have been immense. Thestones are paste, but what does that prove? Simply that Christopher'sreal stones are elsewhere. Christopher wasn't such a fool after all, andCaw has not tricked us wittingly. Caw imagines we've got the real stonesright enough. At first I thought it might be otherwise, but my new theoryis the one to hold water. The stones we saw that afternoon in Grey Housewere the stones we looked on last night--"

  "Then--oh, my God!--Christopher was suspecting us, playing with us, allthe time!"

  "Keep calm. Remember, Christopher told us we should have our reward--"

  "And this is it!" Lancaster groaned.

  For the moment Bullard's self-confidence was shaken--but only for themoment. "Listen, Lancaster," he said steadily. "Christopher trusted noman absolutely--and who would, with half a million involved? He may evenhave doubted Caw. But Christopher was as friendly as ever, and he did nottell us, without meaning something, that the diamonds would be dividedinto three portions when his cursed clock had stopped. And so I believethat we shall yet get our shares--on a certain condition.--Are youfollowing me?"

  Lancaster nodded in vague fashion. "But the condition ..."

  "Oh, Lord! hasn't it dawned? Why, the shares shall be ours when the clockstops, provided the Green Box, its contents intact, is then in its placein Christopher's study. Doesn't that hold water up to the brim?"

  Lancaster turned away his face. He could have cried out.

  "And now," said Bullard bitterly, "you've let the Green Box slip throughyour fingers!"

  "Why didn't you tell me all that last night?" cried the ill-starredLancaster. He dared not tell Bullard that the Green Box was safe in hishouse. Bullard would never, however great the compensation, forgivetrickery against himself; and Bullard's theory remained to be proved.Lancaster's soul now seized on its last hope: that Doris would be able tocarry out her plan of conveying the box to Grey House. "Why didn't youtell me last night?" he repeated.

  "Is that all you've got to say?" Bullard asked, a sort of snarl in hisvoice: "And I suppose you still expect me to put you right over thattwenty-five thousand pounds!"

  "My God, Bullard, but you _promised_! Oh, surely, you don't meanto fail me!"

  Bullard threw himself into the chair at his desk. While he chose a cigarhe regained something of his customary control. "I beg your pardon,Lancaster," he said presently. "I ought not to have said that, seeingthat I have your daughter's promise, and do not doubt it. But the thinghas hit me--both of us--hard.... Now don't you think you had better gohome? Don't work yourself into an illness again. The Green Box isgone--for good, I fear. We can't call in the police, you know. But thereare still things to be done--for instance, find out whether the realdiamonds are in Grey House--and, mark you, I think they are! If I wereonly certain, I'd act on the will at once. That beast Flitch has beenrestless lately. Wants to leave the country. His evidence might benecessary in proving the loss of Craig. But we'll talk it out to-morrow.Are you going?"

  Without a word Lancaster went out; but he sat in his own private officefor several hours.

  "What prevents me," asked Bullard of himself, "from throwing theworthless fool overboard and letting him sink?" And the only answer was"Doris. I believe he'd sell his rights in the will for--"

  The telephone on his desk buzzed. Next moment he was listening to thevoice of Mrs. Lancaster.

  "I'm just going out," it said, "and I thought I ought to let you knowabout Doris. She had an express letter from young France this morning,and insists on staying at home now to receive him. You asked me to keepan eye on him. Any news? ... Why don't you answer?"

  "Pardon, my dear lady. No; there is no news, except that I've been on thewrong track and have small hope of getting upon the right one. Thank youfor letting me know; at the same time, I must keep to my bargain withDoris--no interference, you understand. By the way, has Doris referred tolast night?"

  "Not with a single word."

  "Ah! ... I may call to-morrow. When does Mr. France arrive?"

  "Five. But what's to be done about--?"

  "To-morrow, please, to-morrow. Look after your husband, will you?Good-bye."

  The woman's soul was still seething with resentment against the man onaccount of the diamond fiasco, as she called it; at the same time, shewas acutely sensible of the fact that now more than ever his friendshipwas essential to her interests.

  Bullard lay back in his chair, frowning thoughtfully. Odd that Doris hadmade no reference to her glimpse of the scene in the library last night.Odd, too, that she should be receiving France at such an hour. And therewere other things that struck him as odd. Lancaster's manner during theirrecent talk, for instance.... Francis Bullard had made the bulk of hisfortune through unlikely happenings; it had become a habit with him todeal, as it were, in "off chances." At all events, he felt he would liketo secure a sight of young France's face as the latter came from thehouse. It might tell him something. Before long he left the office andthe City. Rain was beginning to fall.

  It was falling heavily when Teddy came down the steps of 13 Earl's Gate.He was wondering which way would take him the more speedily to a cab,when a taxi appeared moving slowly towards him out of the streaminggloom. He whistled, and the chauffeur replied, "Right, sir," steeringtowards the pavement. The cab came to rest midway between two lamps. Theman reached back and threw the door open. Teddy gave his address, and gotin. At the same moment the opposite door was torn open; the parcel wassnatched from his possession; the door banged. The cab started. Teddy hada mere glimpse of some one muffled to the mouth, hat brim drawn low. Heturned and sprang out, staggered badly, almost fell, recovered hisbalance, and beheld a figure leaving the step for the interior of theretreating cab. He ran after it with a shout,--and remembered the dangersin publicity. Still, he continued to run, seeking to make out the numberwhich had got plastered with mud. Hopeless! Travelling now at a highspeed the cab disappeared round a corner, and Mr. Bullard had securedconsiderably more than he had come for.

  At that moment the most wretched young man in London was Teddy France.What was he to do? He could not go North without informing Doris of thecalamity. He could not trust the information to a letter. There he stoodin the rain, cursing himself and imagining the cruel blow it would be tothe girl. Suddenly he realised that no time must be lost. To wait untillater in the evening would doom his chances of seeing Doris alone. Hemust return to the house at once--and as he took the first step, a carpurred softly up to No. 13, and deposited Mrs. Lancaster. It was all up!To call now for the second time would rouse all manner of suspicions.

  An hour later, drenched and in despair, he entered a post office andtelegraphed to Alan, postponing his visit for twenty-four hours. Then hewent home, and after worrying his mother by making a miserable dinner,went forth again, and, having changed his mind, returned to Earl's Gate.Mrs. and Miss Lancaster, the servant informed him, had gone out for theevening. Thereupon he determined to resume his shadowing of Bullard, whomhe could not help connecting, directly or indirectly, with his lateassailant. On this occ
asion he went about the business with someboldness. At Bright's Hotel he made enquiry at the office, after assuringhimself that Bullard was not in the lounge or its vicinity.

  "Mr. Bullard has gone to Paris for a couple of days," the clerk told him."Left here twenty minutes ago."

  Teddy had his doubts. He visited a number of stations and spent a gooddeal of money on cab fares, but failed to obtain the smallestsatisfaction. He finished up at the midnight train from King's Cross. Hadhe been able to be in two places at the same time, he would have got whathe wanted at St. Pancras.

  In another part of the Midland train that carried Bullard North, sat theman Flitch, alias Dunning. Once more Bullard had need of his skill. Hewas decently clothed in ready-mades and almost recovered, roughlyspeaking, from his bout of the previous night. But he was full ofmelancholy. Bullard's fee for the opening of the Green Box, not tomention the small fortune annexed from Mr. Marvel, was all gone. What hehad not lost over the cards had been stolen while he lay fuddled. Thus hehad been ready enough for another job from his patron. The haplessMarvel, by the way, had been left secure in a dungeon-like cellar, withenough bread and water to keep body and soul together for a couple ofdays. Bullard had not had time to decide what to do with the creature.

  In the seclusion of his sleeping berth Bullard examined the Green Box,forcing it open with a bright little tool. He would get a new key for itin Glasgow on the morrow. He cursed his luck and Lancaster. It would havegone hard indeed with Lancaster but for the existence of Doris. ButBullard was an optimist in his way. He was far from being beaten. Beforethe train was twenty miles on its journey his head was on the pillow; twominutes later the busy, plotting brain was at rest--recovering energy andkeenness for the next act.