Adventure, December 1914 — page 130: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

128 CHAPTER VIII REPRESENTING A SYNDICATE ROM Messrs. Issachar and Daniel, Mr. Adair went to Mitre Court. On the oak which guarded the entrance to the chambers of the late Mr. Jerningham Creed was the sheet of cartridge-paper which Mr. Adair had himself affixed—he had not been to Mitre Court since he had placed it there. Across the legend inscribed upon it: OUT FOR THE DAY. BUSINESS SUSPEND- ED. CALL AGAIN. some one had written with red chalk in bold characters, ‘‘Rot!” While some one else had penciled in the corner: I’ve called ten times, with the money in my pocket—now I’ll keep it. James May. As he read, Mr. Adair seemed tickled. “‘The word ‘rot’ is tersely descriptive, and Mr. James May seems to be a persevering sort of man. After calling ten times he cer- tainly seems entitled to keep his money.”’ Mr. Adair uttered this comment aloud. As he put the key into the lock he said something to himself. “It’s very odd, but the feeling is back again that Jerningham Creed is waiting for me inside.’”’? As he hesitated he listened. “Tf that’s not his voice—surely somebody’s inside the room.”’ He swung back the heavy oaken door. The door beyond, which of course was the one in ordinary use, was closed. He seemed puzzled. “What possesses me directly I come here? There can be nobody inside, and yet I thought I heard A Fitting a key into the lock of the second door, he threw that back, stared for a mo- ment at what was beyond, then passed the portal. ““My word! What an odor! vault; earthy, like a tomb.” Throwing up the windows, he looked about him. ‘““What an abode of desolation and dust and dirt and cobwebs! Something will cer- tainly have to be done to make these rooms presentable. The sooner I put things in order the better. I don’t know what it is that has prevented me doing it before, but certainly something has. I’ve a feeling that It’s like a Adventure there’s something about this place which isn’t good for any one—especially for me.” His attention was caught by a heap of postal-packets which lay upon the floor. ‘““‘What a crowd of letters! I wonder if any of them require answering. I ought to attend to something, or some one ought. I’ll have Foster in. He shall put the place in order; then out Ill go.” Picking up the letters, he threw them on to the great old leather writing-table which was in the center of the room, heedless of the clouds which arose as they fell. He ex- amined some of the envelopes. “It would only be decent to look what’s in some of these things. Let’s begin with this.” Tearing open an envelope he took out a sheet of paper on which weve these type- written words. A word of warning. You’ve got what isn’t yours. Hand over and clear out, lest evil befall you. There are worse things than sleeping out on the Embank- ment, as you know. To the sneak-thief who calls himself Martin Adair—from a friend. Mr. Adair read this singular communica- tion two or three times over. ‘So that’s what is in Envelope Number One, is it? We've begun with it, and I think we’ll end with it. I’m not at all in- terested to know what the rest of these mis- sives are about—I’ve sampled enough.” He tore the sheet of paper into fragments, which he dropped upon the floor, then trod them under foot. “What would Miss Winifred Dennis say if she read that friendly warning? She haunts this place almost as much as Creed himself. It was just after a quarter past two that Wednesday morning that she came down the stairs from this room. I had heard Big Ben striking the quarter just be- fore—the wind was coming from that way. I wonder if she saw me. “She took no notice of me if she did—no particular notice, that is: I am certain she never recognized me. Her face seemed to burn itself upon my brain. There was something on it which—I didn’t like at all. ‘‘What was she doing here at a quarter past two, that Wednesday morning? Shall I ever have courage enough to ask her? I wonder.” ° He gave himself a little twist, as if he were shaking something off him. “I’m going to look into this and make connicloool C©