CHAPTER XVII

POLYCARP AND HAWKE’S MAN

Then it was that he heard a noise, something between scratching and fumbling, on the further side of the front-door, in the main corridor of the flats.  He could see through the ground glass over the door that the corridor was lighted as usual.

He thought:  ‘Someone is breaking the seal on that door!’ And his next idea was:  ’Since the seal is being broken in the full light of the public corridor, it is being broken by someone who has the right to break it.  Only one man has the right, and that man is Francis Tudor’s executor, Senior Polycarp.’

The noise of scratching and fumbling ceased, and a key was placed in the lock.

Hugo hastily extinguished his lamp, and hid behind the portiere.  Immediately the lamp was extinguished he observed, what he had not observed before, that a faint light came through the aperture of the door leading to the servants’ quarters.

The front-door opened, and he heard footsteps in the hall.  Then ensued a pause.  Then the footsteps advanced, and the newcomer evidently went into the room where the faint light was.

‘Come out of that!’

Yes; it was Polycarp’s quiet, mincing, imperious voice.

‘Come out of it yourself!’

The answering tones were gruff, heavy, full, the speech of a strong coarse-fibred man.

Hugo peeped cautiously through the portiere.  Polycarp was backing slowly out of the room into the hall, followed by a tall, dark, scowling man, who bore an ordinary kitchen candle.  Polycarp halted in the middle of the floor.  The man also halted; he seemed to be towering over Polycarp in an attitude of menace.

‘Let me pass,’ said the man.  ‘I’ve had enough of this.’

Polycarp smiled scornfully.

‘You’re caught,’ said he.  ‘You’re one of Hawke’s men, aren’t you?’

‘Go to h—–!’ was the man’s ferocious reply.

‘Answer my question, sir.’

‘What if I am?’ the man grumbled.

’In five minutes you’ll be in the hands of the police.  I got wind yesterday of what your rascally agency was up to.  You needn’t deny anything.  You’re working on behalf of Mr. Ravengar.  You know me!  Mr. Ravengar happens to be a client of mine, but after to-night he will be so no longer.  What he wants done in this flat I cannot guess, but it’s an absolute certainty that you’re in for three years’ penal, my friend.’

‘Let me pass,’ the man repeated, lifting his jaw, ’or I’ll blow your brains out!’

He produced his revolver.

‘Oh no, you won’t,’ said Polycarp coldly.  ’You daren’t.  You aren’t on the stage, and you aren’t in Texas.  And you aren’t a bold Bret Harte villain.  You’re simply the creature of a private inquiry agency, as it’s called, the most miserable of trades!  Usually you spend your time in manufacturing divorces, but just now you’re doing something more dangerous even than that, something that needed more pluck than you’ve got.  I should advise you to come with me quietly.’