“You betrayed ‘em, an’ they’re after you,” he said solemnly, “They’ve sworn a vendetta—”
Amber shook his head.
“I’m after them,” he corrected, “and the vendetta swearing has been all on my side. No, my Peter, I’m Virtuous Mike — I’m the great detective from Baker Street, N.W. I want to watch somebody without the annoyance of their watchin’ me.”
Peter was interested.
His eyes gleamed through his spectacles, and his hands trembled in his excitement.
“I see, I see,” he nodded vigorously. “You’re going to frusterate ‘em.”
“‘Frusterate’ is the very word I should have used,” said Amber.
IV. Lambaire Needs a Chart
Lambaire had an office in the city, where he conducted a business. No man knew what the business was. There was a brass plate on the door which offered no solution other than that —
J. Lambaire
(and at Paris)
might be found within. He had callers, wrote and received letters, and disappeared at odd intervals, whither none knew, though “ and at Paris “ might be a plausible explanation.
Some said he was an agent, a vague description which might mean anything; others, a financier, though optimistic folk, with airy projects, requiring a substantial flotation, were considerably disappointed to find he had no money to spare for freakish and adventurous promotions.
So many strange people had offices in the city, with no apparent object, that Lambaire’s business did not form the subject of too close an inquiry.
It was announced that once upon a time he had financed an expedition to Central Africa, and if this were true, there was every reason for his presence at No i, Flair Lane, E.C. Other men had financed similar expeditions, had established themselves in similar offices, and, through the years, had waited for some return for the money they had spent. Such was a matter of history.
Yet Lambaire had a business, and a very profitable business. He was known by his bankers to be a silver broker, by yet another banker to possess an interest in the firm of Flithenstein & Borris, a firm of printers; he had shares in a line of tramp steamers which had gained an unenviable reputation in shipping circles; he was interested, if truth be told, in a hundred and one affairs, small and large, legitimate or shady.
He owned a horse or two; obliging horses that won when he backed them, and were at the wrong end of the course when he did not.
Two days following the hasty departure of Amber, he was in his office. It was the luncheon hour, and he pulled on his gloves slowly. A smile lingered at the corners of his mouth, and there was a satisfied twinkle in his eye.
His secretary stood expectantly by the desk, mechanically sorting a sheaf of notes.
Mr. Lambaire walked slowly to the heavy door of his private room, then paused, with a show of irresolution.
“Perhaps it would be better to write tonight,” he said dubiously. The secretary nodded, and depositing his papers on the desk, opened a notebook.
“Perhaps it would,” said Lambaire, as though questioning himself. “Yes, it might as well be done tonight.”
“Dear Sir “ (he began, and the secretary scribbled furiously),—” Dear Sir, I have to acknowledge your letter re Great Forest Diamond Mine. Full stop. I understand your — er — annoyance—”
“Impatience?” suggested the secretary.
“Impatience,” accepted the dictator,” but the work is going forward. Full stop. Regarding your offer to take up further shares, comma, I have to inform you that my Board are — are—”
“Is,” corrected the secretary.
“Is,” continued Mr. Lambaire, “prepared to allow you the privilege, subject to the approval of our—”
“Its,” said the secretary.
“Its brokers. Yours faithfully.
Lambaire lit a cigar.
“How’s that?” he asked jovially.
“Very good, sir,” said the secretary, rubbing his hands, “a good thing for the Board—”
“For me,” said Mr. Lambaire, without embarrassment.
“I said the Board,” said the palefaced secretary, and chuckled at the subtlety of the humour.
Something was pleasing Lambaire to-day, and the secretary took advantage of the spell of good humour.
“About this letter; there have been all sorts of people here to-day,” he said suggestively, and Lambaire, once more on his way to the door, looked round sharply.
“What the devil do you mean, Grene?” he demanded, all the joviality wiped from his face.
His subordinate shifted uneasily; he was on a delicate topic. Lambaire trusted him to a point; it was safe that he should confess his knowledge of Lambaire’s affairs — up to that point.
“It is this African affair,” said the clerk.
Lambaire stood by the door, his head sunk in thought.
“I suppose you told them — ?”
“I told them the usual yarn — that our surveyor was visiting the property, and that we expected to hear from him soon. One chap — Buxteds’ clerk — got a bit cheeky, and I—” he hesitated.
“Yes, and — ?”
“He said he didn’t believe we knew where the mine was ourselves.”
Lambaire’s smile was a trifle forced.
“Ridiculous,” he said, without any great heartiness. “As if one could float a diamond mining company without knowing where the property is — absurd, isn’t it, Grene?”
“Very, sir,” said the secretary politely.
Lambaire still stood by the door.
“The map was in the prospectus, the mine is just on the edge — Etruri Forest — isn’t that the name?”
The secretary nodded, watching him.
“Buxteds’ man, eh?” Lambaire was perturbed, for Buxteds are the shadiest and the sharpest solicitors in London, and they did not love him.
“If Buxteds get to know,” he stopped—” what I mean is that if Buxteds thought they could blackmail me—”
He went out, thinking deeply.
There is nothing quite as foolish as floating a company, and by specious advertising to attract the money of the speculating public, when the very raison d’être of the company is non-existent. If there is one thing in the world that is necessary for the prosperity of a diamond mining company it is a diamond mine, and there were reasons why that couldn’t be included in the assets of the company. The first reason was that Lambaire did not know within a hundred leagues where the property was situated; the second — and one not without importance — he possessed no certain knowledge that he had the right to dispose of the property, even if he knew where it was.
Yet Lambaire was not the type of enthusiast who floats diamond mines on no more solid basis than his optimism. To be perfectly candid, the Great Forest Diamond Mining Company had come into existence at a period when his cash balance was extremely low; for all the multiplicity of his interests, such periods of depression came to him. It may be said of