For Fortune and Glory: A Story of the Soudan War

by Lewis Hough

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  "WAYS THAT ARE DARK AND TRICKS THAT ARE VAIN."

  While the Forsyth family was passing through its time of trial there hadbeen other chops and changes going on in the lives of those with whomtheir fortunes were more or less connected. Mr Richard Burke had stillfurther declined in health, and could not be expected to last long; butwhat was unexpected by those who knew them both was that he outlived hislegal adviser, Mr Burrows, who was attacked with pleurisy, whichcarried him off soon after he had made Mr Richard Burke's last will.

  His son came into his place, but he was a mild and not very intelligentyoung man, not long out of his articles, and very dependent upon Daireh,who knew all the details of his father's clients' business, and was sodeferential and obsequious, that he made him think very often that hehad originated the course of conduct which the wily Egyptian hadsuggested. As for the other partner, Fagan, he confined himselfentirely, as he always had done, to the criminal and political part ofthe business.

  Daireh was a bachelor, living in lodgings, and might have saved money toa reasonable extent in a modest way. But he was anything but modest inhis desire for wealth, and the law would have given a very ugly name tosome of the transactions by which he sought to acquire it if they hadbut come to light.

  One February afternoon he left the office rather earlier than usual, andafter a hurried dinner repaired to his lodgings, where he mixed himselfa strong glass of whisky. Then he took a flask of glass and leatherwith a metal cup fitting to the bottom, and, unlocking a bureau, tookout of a drawer a small phial.

  He listened; went to the door--opened it, and looked out on thestaircase; shut it again, locked it, and returned to the bureau. Hishand shook so that he took another pull at his grog, and then uncorkingthe phial he poured the contents into the flask, filled it up withwhisky, screwed the top on, and put it into his pocket.

  Then he went out once more, and bent his steps to a railway station,where he took a ticket to a small country place about an hour's ridefrom Dublin. It was growing dark when he arrived, but there was a moon,and the sky was fairly clear from clouds.

  He walked for a mile along the road, and then turned off by a path whichcrossed a moor, and pursued this until he came within sight of a smalldisused quarry, from which all the valuable stone had been long agocarried.

  As Daireh approached the place he clapped his hands three times, and aman came out of the shadow into the moonlight.

  "Stebbings, is that you?" said Daireh.

  "Yes, it is," replied the other, sulkily. "No thanks to you for havingto skulk like a fox. As I told you in my letter, the police are afterme, and if I cannot get out of the country I'm done."

  "What made you come to Ireland, then? It would have been just as easyto have shipped abroad."

  "Because I wanted to see you, for I couldn't trust you to send me afarthing."

  "How was it? You must have managed very badly."

  "The numbers of those bonds were known, though you were so sure theycould not be, and they are advertised, and traced to having passedthrough my hands. That is certain to bring it out that I passed theforged cheque, too. Bad management yourself! However, there's no goodin blaming one another. Have you got the two hundred?"

  "It is a large sum; but still, if it will get you out of your scrape, Iwill make the sacrifice. Only--"

  "Get _me_ out of my scrape! If I am taken, my fine fellow, you will betaken too."

  "Why, what good would it do you to pull me in with you?" asked Daireh.

  "You know precious well. If all the facts came out I should get abouttwo years, and you fourteen at least. You actually took the bonds; youforged the cheque. I was only your tool, employed to cash the things."

  "And am I to have you sucking me like a leech all my life?" cried Dairehin a shrill voice, stamping his foot.

  "That is as it may be; you must take your chance of that. Perhaps youhad sooner I gave myself up and told the whole story. I am not surethat it would not be the best thing for me to do."

  "That is nonsense. Here is the money. You know how to get to SouthAmerica, you said."

  "Ay, I know. If the police have not tracked me here; and I think I havegiven them the slip," said Stebbings, counting the notes before puttingthem away. "Now the sooner you are off the better."

  "It is a chilly night," said Daireh, producing his flask, "and I amgoing to have a sup of whisky. Will you have a drop?"

  "Don't mind if I do," replied Stebbings.

  And the Egyptian filled the metal cup and handed it to him.

  "Here's better luck," he said, taking a mouthful.

  Then suddenly he spat it out again.

  "No, hang me, if I will trust you!" he cried. "And there is a queertaste about it, too!"

  "What nonsense!" said Daireh, forcing a laugh. "It is good whisky, verygood; I had a glass just before I left. Well, good-night, for all yourbad suspicions."

  And Daireh walked quickly away in the direction of the road which led tothe station. When he was well hidden from the quarry he poured away therest of what was in the flask.

  "If he had but swallowed it," he muttered fiercely between his teeth, "Ishould have been two hundred pounds richer, and safe!"

  When he went to the office in the morning, one of the under clerks toldhim that Mr Burke was dead, and Mr Burrows was wanted to go over assoon as he could.

  "All right," said Daireh, "I will tell him when he comes. Where arethose papers about the Ballyhoonish Estates? In his private room, Ithink."

  He passed in, and without hesitation took out a pass key which unlockeda drawer where all the keys of the deed boxes were. Selecting thatbelonging to the Burke box, he opened it; took out the will, put it inhis pocket; locked, and replaced the box; put the keys back in thedrawer, and locked _that_, and walked out with the documents he hadspoken of under his arm. It had not taken him more than three minutesto do the whole thing.

  His plan was this. He had now both wills in his possession. He did notexactly know where Stephen Philipson was to be found, but he was sure toturn up now, and he would make terms with him for destroying the secondwill and producing the first, which was in his favour. But he would notdestroy the second will, but keep it to extort more money out of himwith it. Also, if Philipson were to die--and his habits were such thathe was not likely to be long lived--he would find out Mary Forsyth orReginald Kavanagh, the persons interested, and see what they would givefor the document, the loss of which had disinherited them.

  When Mr Burrows came in and received the news of Mr Burke's death, hisfirst idea was to open the deed box bearing his name, to see if therewas a will there. Finding none, he called Daireh, and asked him if heknew of any such document. Yes, Daireh said, he did; he had witnessedone not so many months ago. He fancied Mr Burke had taken it away withhim, but he was not sure. It might be well to look in the deed box.Mr Burrows had already done that? Ah, then, no doubt Mr Burke _had_taken it. Had made another since, very likely; he believed Mr Burkewas constantly altering his mind about the disposal of his property.But no doubt Mr Burrows would find a will among the papers at thehouse.

  But Mr Burrows didn't, and Daireh, as he went home that evening, boughta large piece of oil silk, in which he afterwards wrapped each of thetwo wills separately. Then he spent a considerable portion of theevening in making two large pockets inside a new waistcoat, one on eachside, between the lining and the cloth, and each of these was to containa will.

  Stephen Philipson heard of his step-father's death, and soon appeared atthe office to know if the old man had really been as good, or bad, ashis word, and cut him off with a mere allowance. He asked to seeDaireh, with whom he had had a good many transactions.

  "That was a real will, was it?" he asked.

  "Real enough. I witnessed it."

  "But it cannot be found, I hear."

  "Oh, it will turn up at the funeral, never fear."

  "I wish it might not."

  "Why?"


  "Because then, by the old will, I should come in for the lot."

  "But if the old will is not forthcoming, or the new one, or any other,the property devolves to the heir-at-law, Ralph Burke, and you will noteven get your allowance."

  Philipson, whose nervous system was considerably shattered, was soaffected by this consideration, that Daireh thought it better to revivehim with a dram of hope.

  "If I can see you privately, without fear of interruption, I may be ableto give you a useful hint," he said. "The funeral takes place onSaturday, and if nothing is heard of a will then I will meet you nextday. Where are you staying?"

  Philipson gave his present address and left, thinking to himself as hewalked up the street--

  "I wonder what bit of roguery that scoundrel is up to now? If he hasgot anything good for me I shall have to pay rarely for it. Well, I amin too bad a way to care much for that; but he shall not bring me withinthe reach of the law. I have no fancy for going to jail, where there'sno liquor to be got--not likely. None of that, Mr Nigger. If he willtake the risk I will pay the piper, and that is a fair enough division,I think. But I wonder what his little game is!"

  But Daireh never made that Sunday call on Philipson. For on Saturdayevening he heard a cry in the streets--"Important Arrest! Great BondRobbery! Scandalous Disclosures!"

  He invested a penny in the evening paper, and carried it up to his room.

  His fears were verified. It was Stebbings who had been arrested. Hehad thought much about what he would do in such a case, and kept hiswits about him. Of course, the "Scandalous Disclosures" heading waspremature--inserted, indeed, to give a fillip to the sale of the paper.But the disclosures would certainly come very soon, and there was notime to be lost.

  He destroyed a good many letters and papers; stowed all his money, anddocuments which meant money, about his person; packed a small valisewhich he could carry in his hand, and started for the station. Hecrossed the Channel that night, and got to Liverpool early on thefollowing morning. He knew--so carefully had he laid his plans--thatthere was a trading vessel, with accommodation for two or threepassengers, which was advertised to start from the port of Liverpool forTrieste that afternoon, and he would be unusually unlucky if he couldnot get a passage in her. He found, indeed, no difficulty about that,and might go on board at once if he liked.

  Before he did so, however, he had a good meal on shore, and wrote aletter to Mr Burrows regretting that he was forced to absent himself,without leave, from the office. And then, his imagination warming as hesat pen in hand, he told how his poor father, a stranger, speakinglittle English, had arrived in London, and been there seized with aserious illness; that he had not received the news till the nightbefore, and had started at once to see that his aged parent receivedproper attention.

  When the letter was finished, he went to the railway station and found aguard, whom he asked whether he was going to London that night. Theguard said he was.

  "Then I wish you would do me a favour," said Daireh. "A lady--a friendof mine--wants to send a valentine to a man in Ireland, and is anxiousto mystify him. She has got me to direct it, and would like it to havethe London post-mark. Will you drop it in for her?"

  He tendered the letter and a shilling, which the guard took with a grinand an "All right, sir," and the foxy Egyptian walked back to the quay,having done his best to put the police on a wrong scent when therevelations of Stebbings should set them trying to track him. At thesame time he felt that he was taking needless trouble, making assurancedoubly sure; for, once at home in Alexandria, for which place he wasbound, he would be safe enough. Or, if there were any fear, he had onlyto go up the Nile to Berber, where he had relatives, and what detectivedare follow him there, or dare touch him even if he did?

  A more anxious consideration was--how to make any profit out of thewills which he had stolen. To treat for their restitution, or even forthat of the last and true one, would be a very ticklish operationindeed. I think it is really the worst part about rogues that they areso utterly selfish, and regardless of the misery they inflict upon otherpeople, even when they cannot benefit themselves by it. If Daireh hadhad an ounce of good nature in his composition, he would have torn upthe old will and sent back the new one, now there was so poor a chanceof his making money out of his scheme.

  But that idea never even occurred to him. I am glad to say, however,that he had a bad voyage, and suffered much from sea-sickness.