he leaned back in the chair and fetched a deep breath.
‘By Jove, Birnie,’ he said, ‘that’s the first good meal I’ve made for a mouth!’
‘Can I order a little more for you?’
‘No, my boy; I won’t spoil my dinner.’
Mr. Marston had evidently made up his mind that he was not going short of good meals again in a hurry.
Birnie eyed him nervously, and waited for him to grow communicative. He wasn’t comfortable. He was playing a game without knowing his opponent’s cards, and that was a style of play which had never suited Oliver Birnie. He had not long to wait.
Do you know, it’s ten years since I left England,’ said Marston presently. ‘By Jove! there must have been some changes in our little party since then.’
‘Indeed there have.’
‘I come back and I find you a doctor, with a carriage and pair, a nice quiet villa, and a thundering cheeky slavy; I heard abroad that Gurth had got a windfall and was a regular tiptop swell now, and I’ll bet old Heckett hasn’t been behindhand in making hay. I’m the only one of the lot that’s down on my luck. I’ve been the scapegoat—that’s what I’ve been—and I assure you, my dear boy, I’ve grown tired of the character. I’ve come back to change places with one of you, and I’m not particular which.’
Birnie shot a keen, searching glance at his visitor.
‘Look here, Ned, before we go any further, suppose we clear the ground a little. I suppose, from your being here and walking about openly, it’s quite safe for you to have come back?’
‘Quite.’
‘Well, then, why did you go away so suddenly?’
‘Not for what you think, Nolly, my boy. That’s where you’ve all been wrong, I guess. When that little affair was on and I bolted suddenly, you put two and two together and fancied I’d broken the law. Now the boot was on the other trotter. The law broke me.’
‘How?’
‘You know that my father had gone to America to prosecute the big lawsuit which was to make us all millionaires, and put me straight for ever?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, he lost the day, and I went out at once to him.’
‘Good heavens, Marston! Don’t say that your mysterious departure was due to filial affection!’
‘No, I don’t. You wouldn’t believe me if I did. I went out to stop the old man making a fool of himself, and carry the case further still. I wanted something saved out of the fire for myself.’
‘Did you succeed?’
‘No. Got there to find the old man dead, and every blessed halfpenny of his property gone in the law-costs.’
‘You’ll excuse me, old fellow, if I suggest that there must have been another motive behind.’
‘All right; if there was, find it out. It wasn’t the bill business.’
‘I always thought it was.’
‘You were wrong, then. Every acceptance old Isaacs discounted for me was genuine—as genuine as this one.’
Mr. Marston drew gently from his waistcoat-pocket a dirty and creased piece of paper, and held it out for Dr. Birnie to read.
It was Birnie’s acceptance for £500.
The doctor looked at it, read it, as Marston held it out before him.
‘You didn’t discount that, then?’ he said quietly. ‘I wondered it had never been presented.’
‘Isaacs wouldn’t take it. He said it wasn’t worth the stamp it was written on.’
‘It wasn’t,’ said Birnie, with a smile.
‘But it is now,’ replied Marston, folding it up carefully and putting it into his pocket.
‘You are wrong,’ said the doctor quietly. ‘It was worth nothing then because I was a penniless adventurer. It is worth nothing now because it is ten years old, and your claim is barred by the Statute of Limitations.’
For a moment the two men sat eyeing each other in silence. Marston was the first to break it.
‘I think you’ll pay it, in spite of the statute.’
‘Well,’ answered the doctor, taking a pipe from the mantelshelf and filling it, ‘I may, or I may not. That depends on you. I suppose you’ve something better to offer me than this worthless piece of paper for £500?’
‘Perhaps I have.’
‘Take a pipe from the rack,’ said the doctor. ‘Here’s some tobacco. Tobacco is a wonderful sedative, and we want to talk this matter over calmly.’
Marston lit his pipe and settled himself down in an arm-chair. He was quite ready for a combat, if combat it was to be.
‘Let us review the situation, Ned,’ said the doctor. ‘Some years ago you left this country suddenly. At that time we were all down on our luck. You had run through your money leading a fast life, so had I, so had Gurth Egerton. We were all gamblers and loose fish, and our principal haunt was Josh Heckett’s betting-office and gambling den in Soho. There was only one rich man among us, and we turned rooks to make him our pigeon. That was Ralph Egerton, Gurth’s cousin. He was a drunken, reckless fool, and we thought him an easy prey. He came night after night to the den, but he didn’t seem to care for play; he lost with a good grace, and we never could quite make out why he came. One night there was a furious quarrel there; blows were struck in the struggle, the table was knocked over, and the light extinguished. Suddenly Ralph Egerton shrieked out that he was stabbed, and when a light was struck we found him lying on the floor with a knife in his breast and the lifeblood pouring out. No one knew who had struck the blow. He could not say. There were half-a-dozen strangers present, and they got away directly, fearing to be mixed up in a gambling-house scandal. The knife was one which had been used to cut the corks of the champagne-bottles, and had been lying on the table.’
‘Well, I know all about that,’ interrupted Marston.
‘Excuse me; let me review the situation my own way. We were all terrified, for we knew what would come out if an inquest was held. Old Heckett was like a madman, and beside himself with terror. Gurth Egerton was as white as a ghost, and stood trembling like a child. You and I were the only ones who kept our heads. I was just admitted to the profession, and I examined the wound, and found that it was a bad one. We held a council and agreed what to do. I bandaged the wound up tightly and swathed the body round so that no blood could escape; then you went and got a four-wheel cab, and we put him in. We carried him between us, talking to him as if he were a drunken man, to deceive the cabman. We drove here, to this very villa, which was his house, and carried him in. I am quite correct in my story so far, am I not?’
‘Quite,’ answered Marston, lazily puffing his pipe. ‘Up to this point you’ve told me nothing I couldn’t have told you. Go on.’
‘Here your part of the transaction ended,’ continued the doctor, ‘and the rest was left to me. Ralph Egerton died. I was with him to the last. I performed the last offices myself, and when the undertaker came he found only a neatly shrouded body. Everything was done in my presence, and no one ever had the slightest suspicion of foul play. The death was duly registered, and my certificate accepted as that of the medical man who had attended the deceased during his last illness.’
Dr. Birnie went to his writing-table, undid a drawer, and handed a piece of paper to Marston.
‘Here is a copy of the certificate,’ he said.
Marston read it. It was to the effect that Ralph Egerton had been attended for so many days by Oliver Birnie, his regular medical attendant,