“I said that it would, and as the man turned away, Jezzard’s face broke out into a cunning smile.
“So you are Mr. Draper, of Sundersley, now, are you?’ said he. ‘Well, I hope you won’t be too proud to come and look in on your old friends. We shall be staying here for some time.’
“That same night Hearn made his appearance at my house. He had come as an emissary from the gang, to ask me to do some work for them—to execute some forgeries, in fact. Of course I refused, and pretty bluntly, too, whereupon Hearn began to throw out vague hints as to what might happen if I made enemies of the gang, and to utter veiled, but quite intelligible, threats. You will say that I was an idiot not to send him packing, and threaten to hand over the whole gang to the police; but I was never a man of strong nerve, and I don’t mind admitting that I was mortally afraid of that cunning devil, Jezzard.
“The next thing that happened was that Hearn came and took lodgings in Sundersley, and, in spite of my efforts to avoid him, he haunted me continually. The yacht, too, had evidently settled down for some time at a berth in the harbour, for I heard that a local smack-boy had been engaged as a deck-hand; and I frequently encountered Jezzard and the other members of the gang, who all professed to believe that I had committed the Eastwich forgeries. One day I was foolish enough to allow myself to be lured on to the yacht for a few minutes, and when I would have gone ashore, I found that the shore ropes had been cast off, and that the vessel was already moving out of the harbour. At first I was furious, but the three scoundrels were so jovial and good-natured, and so delighted with the joke of taking me for a sail against my will, that I presently cooled down, and having changed into a pair of rubber-soled shoes (so that I should not make dents in the smooth deck with my hobnails), bore a hand at sailing the yacht, and spent quite a pleasant day.
“From that time I found myself gradually drifting back into a state of intimacy with these agreeable scoundrels, and daily becoming more and more afraid of them. In a moment of imbecility I mentioned what I had seen from the shop-window at Eastwich, and, though they passed the matter off with a joke, I could see that they were mightily disturbed by it. Their efforts to induce me to join them were redoubled, and Hearn took to calling almost daily at my house—usually with documents and signatures which he tried to persuade me to copy.
“A few evenings ago he made a new and startling proposition. We were walking in my garden, and he had been urging me once more to rejoin the gang—unsuccessfully, I need not say. Presently he sat down on a seat against a yew-hedge at the bottom of the garden, and, after an interval of silence, said suddenly:
“‘Then you absolutely refuse to go in with us?’
“‘Of course I do,’ I replied. ‘Why should I mix myself up with a gang of crooks when I have ample means and a decent position?’
“‘Of course,’ he agreed, ‘you’d be a fool if you did. But, you see, you know all about this Eastwich job, to say nothing of our other little exploits, and you gave us away once before. Consequently, you can take it from me that, now Jezzard has run you to earth, he won’t leave you in peace until you have given us some kind of a hold on you. You know too much, you see, and as long as you have a clean sheet you are a standing menace to us. That is the position. You know it, and Jezzard knows it, and he is a desperate man, and as cunning as the devil.’
“‘I know that,’ I said gloomily.
“‘Very well,’ continued Hearn. ‘Now I’m going to make you an offer. Promise me a small annuity—you can easily afford it—or pay me a substantial sum down, and I will set you free for ever from Jezzard and the others.’
“‘How will you do that?’ I asked.
“‘Very simply,’ he replied. ‘I am sick of them all, and sick of this risky, uncertain mode of life. Now I am ready to clean off my own slate and set you free at the same time; but I must have some means of livelihood in view.’
“‘You mean that you will turn King’s evidence?’ I asked.
“‘Yes, if you will pay me a couple of hundred a year, or, say, two thousand down on the conviction of the gang.’
“I was so taken aback that for some time I made no reply, and as I sat considering this amazing proposition, the silence was suddenly broken by a suppressed sneeze from the other side of the hedge.
“Hearn and I started to our feet. Immediately hurried footsteps were heard in the lane outside the hedge. We raced up the garden to the gate and out through a side alley, but when we reached the lane there was not a soul in sight. We made a brief and fruitless search in the immediate neighbourhood, and then turned back to the house. Hearn was deathly pale and very agitated, and I must confess that I was a good deal upset by the incident.
“‘This is devilish awkward,’ said Hearn.
“‘It is rather,’ I admitted; ‘but I expect it was only some inquisitive yokel.’
“‘I don’t feel so sure of that,’ said he. ‘At any rate, we were stark lunatics to sit up against a hedge to talk secrets.’
“He paced the garden with me for some time in gloomy silence, and presently, after a brief request that I would think over his proposal, took himself off.
“I did not see him again until I met him last night on the yacht. Pitford called on me in the morning, and invited me to come and dine with them. I at first declined, for my housekeeper was going to spend the evening with her sister at Eastwich, and stay there for the night, and I did not much like leaving the house empty. However, I agreed eventually, stipulating that I should be allowed to come home early, and I accordingly went. Hearn and Pitford were waiting in the boat by the steps—for the yacht had been moved out to a buoy—and we went on board and spent a very pleasant and lively evening. Pitford put me ashore at ten o’clock, and I walked straight home, and went to bed. Hearn would have come with me, but the others insisted on his remaining, saying that they had some matters of business to discuss.”
“Which way did you walk home?” asked Thorndyke.
“I came through the town, and along the main road.”
“And that is all you know about this affair?”
“Absolutely all,” replied Draper. “I have now admitted you to secrets of my past life that I had hoped never to have to reveal to any human creature, and I still have some faint hope that it may not be necessary for you to divulge what I have told you.”
“Your secrets shall not be revealed unless it is absolutely indispensable that they should be,” said Thorndyke; “but you are placing your life in my hands, and you must leave me perfectly free to act as I think best.”
With this he gathered his notes together, and we took our departure.
“A very singular history, this, Jervis,” he said, when, having wished the sergeant “Good-night,” we stepped out on to the dark road. “What do you think of it?”
“I hardly know what to think,” I answered, “but, on the whole, it seems rather against Draper than otherwise. He admits that he is an old criminal, and it appears that he was being persecuted and blackmailed by the man Hearn. It is true that he represents Jezzard as being the leading spirit and prime mover in the persecution, but we have only his word for that. Hearn was in lodgings near him, and was undoubtedly taking the most active part in the business, and it is quite possible, and indeed probable, that Hearn was the actual deus ex machina.”
Thorndyke nodded. “Yes,” he said, “that is certainly the line the prosecution will take if we allow the story to become known. Ha! What is this? We are going to have some rain.”
“Yes, and wind too. We are in for an autumn gale, I think.”
“And that,” said Thorndyke, “may turn out to be an important factor in our case.”
“How can the weather affect your case?” I asked in some surprise. But, as the rain suddenly descended in a pelting shower, my companion broke into a