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Updated: August 31, 2025
The girl seemed, for some reason, relieved. "There was something, then," she said, half to herself. "There was something. Oh, I am glad of that! You were angry with him, perhaps, Mr. Laverick?" Laverick stood with his back to the little fireplace and with his hands behind him a commanding figure in the tiny room full of feminine trifles. He looked a great deal more at his ease than he really was.
A man had fallen in the middle of the street, either knocked down by the shaft of a passing vehicle or in some sort of fit. There was a tangle of rearing horses, an omnibus was making desperate efforts to avoid the prostrate body. The constable sprang to the rescue. Laverick, instantly suspicious and realizing that there was no one in front of him, turned swiftly around.
"They will drink with you and spend a night out or a week-end at Brighton, but they do not lend money. If they would, do you think I would mind asking? Why, I would go on my knees to any man who would lend us the money. I would even kiss his feet. I cannot bear it, Laverick! I cannot! I cannot!" Laverick said nothing. Words were useless things, wasted upon such a creature.
"I should say," he declared, "that this was simply some young man who was trying to scrape an acquaintance with you because he was or had been a friend of Morrison's." "In that case," answered Zoe, "he is very soon forgotten." She tore the programme into two pieces, and Laverick was conscious of a ridiculous feeling of pleasure at her indifference.
"Laverick!" he repeated hoarsely. Laverick, fully awakened now, leaned towards him. "Hullo," he said, "are you feeling more like yourself?" Morrison nodded. "Yes," he admitted, "I am feeling better. How did you come here? I can't remember anything." "You sent for me," Laverick answered. "I arrived to find you pretty well in a state of collapse.
"On the whole," the banker declared, "I should prefer to credit them to your account in the usual way." "I am sorry," Laverick answered, "but I have a sentimental feeling about it. I prefer to keep the notes intact. If you cannot follow out my suggestion, I must remove my account at once. This isn't a threat, Mr. Fenwick, you will understand that, I am sure.
Laverick, who thought that things had gone far enough, stepped lightly out from his hiding-place and stood between his unbidden visitor and the door. "You had better put down that pocket-book," he ordered quietly. The man was upon him with a single spring, but Laverick, without the slightest hesitation, knocked him prone upon the floor, where he lay, for a moment, motionless.
"You will tell him, please," she directed, "to drive to Bond Street." Laverick re-entered his office, pausing for a minute to give his clerk instructions for the purchase of stocks for Mademoiselle Idiale. He had scarcely reached his own room when he was told that Mr. James Shepherd wished to speak to him for a moment upon the telephone. He took up the receiver. "Who is it?" he asked.
The whole interest of the case now was centred upon the discovery of the man's identity. As soon as this was solved, some very startling developments might be expected. Laverick threw the paper away. He tried to rest upon the sofa, but tried in vain. He found himself continually glancing at the clock. "To-night," he muttered to himself, "no, I will not go to-night! It is not fair to the child.
At Liverpool they would not let you embark these men. They have brought you back here. You are their tool. But you know very well, Arthur, that it was not Stephen Laverick who killed the man in Crooked Friars' Alley! You know very well that it was not Stephen Laverick!" "Why the devil should I know anything about it?" he asked fiercely. A note of passion suddenly crept into her voice.
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