The Malefactor

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  THE HIDDEN HAND

  Wingrave glanced up as they entered. He motioned Nesbitt to a chair byhis side, but the young man remained standing.

  "My secretary tells me," Wingrave said curtly, "that you cannot pay mewhat you owe."

  "It's more than I possess in the world, sir," Nesbitt answered.

  "It is not a large amount," Wingrave said. "I do not see how you cancarry on business unless you can command such a sum as this."

  Nesbitt moistened his dry lips with his tongue.

  "I have only been doing a very small business, sir," he answered, "butquite enough to make a living. I don't speculate as a rule. Hardwellsseemed perfectly safe, or I wouldn't have touched them. I sold at four.They are not worth one. I could have bought thousands last week for twodollars."

  "That is beside the question," Wingrave answered. "If you do not paythis, you have cheated me out of my profits for I should have placed thecommission with brokers who could. Why did you wish to see me again?"

  "I thought that you might give me time," Nesbitt answered, raising hishead and looking Wingrave straight in the face. "It seems rather a lowdown thing to come begging. I'd rather cut my right hand off than do itfor myself, but I've--someone else to think about, and if I'm hammered,I'm done for. Give me a chance, Mr. Wingrave! I'll pay you in time."

  "What do you ask for?" Wingrave said.

  "I thought that you might give me time," Nesbitt said, "and I'll pay youthe rest off with the whole of my profits every year."

  "A most absurd proposal," Wingrave said coolly. "I will instruct mybrokers to take twenty thousand dollars down, and wait one week for thebalance. That is the best offer I can make you. Good day!"

  The young man stood as though he were stunned.

  "I--I can't find it," he faltered. "I can't indeed."

  "Your resources are not my affair," Wingrave said. "I shall instruct mybroker to do as I have said. If the money is not forthcoming, you knowthe alternative."

  "You mean to ruin me, then?" Nesbitt said slowly.

  "I mean to exact the payment of what is due to me," Wingrave saidcurtly. "If you cannot pay, it seems to me that I am the person to bepitied--not you. Show Mr. Nesbitt out, Aynesworth."

  Nesbitt turned towards the door. He was very pale, but he walkedsteadily. He did not speak another word to Wingrave.

  "I'm beastly sorry," Aynesworth said to him on the stairs. "I wish Icould help you!"

  "Thank you," Nesbitt answered. "No one can help me. I'm through."

  Aynesworth returned to the sitting room. Wingrave had lit a cigaretteand watched him as he arranged some papers.

  "Quite a comedy, isn't it?" he remarked grimly.

  "It doesn't present itself in that light to me," Aynesworth answered.

  Wingrave blew the smoke away from in front of his face. "Ah!" he said,"I forgot that you were a sentimentalist. I look upon these thingsfrom my own point of view. From yours, I suppose I must seem a verydisagreeable person. I admit frankly that the sufferings of other peopledo not affect me in the slightest."

  "I am sorry for you," Aynesworth said shortly. "If there is going to bemuch of this sort of thing, though, I must ask you to relieve me of mypost. I can't stand it."

  "Whenever you like, my dear fellow," Wingrave answered. "I thinkthat you would be very foolish to leave me, though. I must be a mostinteresting study."

  "You are--what the devil made you!" Aynesworth muttered.

  Wingrave laid down his cigarette.

  "I am what my fellows have made me," he said slowly. "I tasted hell fora good many years. It has left me, I suppose, with a depraved taste.Ring up my brokers, Aynesworth! I want to speak to Malcolmson. He hadbetter come round here."

  The day dragged on. Aynesworth hated it all, and was weary long beforeit was half over. Everyone who came was angry, and a good many came whomWingrave refused to see. Just before five o'clock, young Nesbitt enteredthe room unannounced. Aynesworth started towards him with a littleexclamation. The young man's evident excitement terrified him, and hefeared a tragedy. Malcolmson, too, half rose to his feet. Wingrave aloneremained unmoved.

  Nesbitt walked straight up to the table at which Malcolmson and Wingravewere sitting. He halted in front of the latter.

  "Mr. Wingrave," he said, "you will give me my receipt for those sharesfor fifty-seven thousand six hundred dollars."

  Wingrave turned to a paper by his side, and ran his forefinger down thelist of names.

  "Mr. Nesbitt," he said. "Yes! sixty thousand dollars."

  The young man laid a slip of paper upon the table.

  "That is a certified check for the amount," he said. "Mr. Malcolmson,please give me my receipt."

  "Ah!" Mr. Wingrave remarked. "I thought that you would find the money."

  Nesbitt bit his lip, but he said nothing till he had the receipt andhad fastened it up in his pocket. Then he turned suddenly round uponWingrave.

  "Look here!" he said. "You've got your money. I don't owe you a cent.Now I'm going to tell you what I think of you."

  Wingrave rose slowly to his feet. He was as tall as the boy, long, lean,and hard. His face expressed neither anger nor excitement, but there wasa slight, dangerous glitter in his deep-set eyes.

  "If you mean," he said, "that you are going to be impertinent, I wouldrecommend you to change your mind."

  Nesbitt for a moment hesitated. There was something ominous in the coolcourage of the older man. And before he could collect himself, Wingravecontinued:--

  "I presume," he said, "that you chose your own profession. You knewquite well there was no place in it for men with a sense of the highermorality. It is a profession of gamblers and thieves. If you'd won,you'd have thought yourself a smart fellow and pocketed your winningsfast enough. Now that you've lost--don't whine. You sat down willinglyenough to play the game with me. Don't call me names because you lost.This is no place for children. Pocket your defeat, and be more carefulnext time."

  Nesbitt was silent for a moment. Wingrave, cool and immovable, dominatedhim. He gave a little laugh, and turned towards the door.

  "Guess you're right," he declared; "we'll let it go at that."

  Aynesworth followed him from the room.

  "I'm awfully glad you're out of the scrape," he said.

  Nesbitt caught him by the arm.

  "Come right along," he said. "I haven't had a drink in the daytime fora year, but we're going to have a big one now. I say, do you know how Igot that money?"

  Aynesworth shook his head.

  "On easy terms, I hope."

  They sat down in the American Bar, and a colored waiter in a white linensuit brought them whisky and Apollinaris in tall tumblers.

  "Listen," Nesbitt said. "My brain is on the reel still. I went backto my office, and if it hadn't been for the little girl, I should havebrought a revolver by the way. Old Johnny there waiting to see me, noend of a swell, Phillson, the uptown lawyer. He went straight for me.

  "'Been dealing in Hardwells?' he asked.

  "I nodded.

  "'Short, eh?'

  "'Six hundred shares,' I answered. There was no harm in telling him forthe Street knew well enough.

  "'Bad job,' he said. 'How much does Wingrave want?'

  "'Shares at par,' I answered. 'It comes to close on fifty-seven thousandsix hundred dollars.'

  "'I'm going to find you the money,' he said.

  "Then I can tell you the things in my office began to swim. I'd an ideasomehow that he was there as a friend, but nothing like this. I couldn'tanswer him.

  "'It's a delicate piece of business,' he went on. 'In fact, the fewerquestions you ask the better. All I can say is there's a chap in WallStreet got his eye on you. Your old dad once helped him over a muchworse place than this. Anyhow, I've a check here for sixty thousanddollars, and no conditions, only that you don't talk.'

  "'But when am I to pay it back?' I gasped.

  "'If my client ever needs it, and you can afford it, he will ask forit.' Phillson answered. 'That'
s all.'

  "And before I could say another darned word, he was gone, and the checkwas there on my desk."

  Aynesworth sipped his whisky and Apollinaris, and lit a cigarette.

  "And they say," he murmured, "that romance does not exist in WallStreet. You're a lucky chap, Nesbitt."

  "Lucky! Do you think I don't realize it? Of course, I know the oldgovernor had lots of friends on the Street, but he was never in abig way, and he got hit awfully hard himself before he died. I can'tunderstand it anyway."

  "I wouldn't try," Aynesworth remarked, laughing. "By the bye, yourfriend, whoever he was, must have got to know pretty quickly."

  Nesbitt nodded.

  "I thought of that," he said. "Of course, Phillsons are lawyers forMalcolmson, Wingrave's broker, so I daresay it came from him. Say,Aynesworth, you don't mind if I ask you something?"

  "Not at all," Aynesworth answered. "What is it?"

  "Why the devil do you stop with a man like Wingrave? He doesn't seemyour sort at all."

  Aynesworth hesitated.

  "Wingrave interests me," he answered. "He has had a curious life, and heis a man with very strange ideas."

  Nesbitt finished his drink, and rose up.

  "Well," he said, "he's not a man I should care to be associated with.Not but what I daresay he was right upstairs. He's strong, too, and hemust have a nerve. But he's a brute for all that!"

  Nesbitt went his way, and Aynesworth returned upstairs. Wingrave wasalone.

  "Have we finished this miserable business?" Aynesworth asked.

  "For the present," Wingrave answered. "Mr. Malcolmson will supplyyou with a copy of the accounts. See that Hardwell is credited with aquarter share of the profits. Our dealings are over for the present.Be prepared to start on Saturday for the West. We are going to look forthose bears."

  "But the mine?" Aynesworth exclaimed. "It belongs to you now. Aren't yougoing out to examine it?"

  Wingrave shook his head.

  "No," he said, "I know nothing about mines. My visit could not teach meanything one way or the other. I have sent a commission of experts. I amtired of cities and money-making. I want a change."

  Aynesworth looked at him suddenly. The weariness was there indeed--wasit his fancy, or was it something more than weariness which shone out ofthe dark, tired eyes?

  BOOK II