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Updated: May 13, 2025
"Still," Lanyard countered, "you've just been dining with Bannon." Wertheimer laughed easily. "Had me there!" he admitted, unabashed. "I take it you know a bit more about the Old Man than you did a week ago?" "Perhaps." "But sit down: take that chair there, which commands both doors, if you don't trust me." "Do you think I ought to?" "Hardly.
"If you've said all you wished to," he suggested, rising, "I can assure you my answer is final and go about my business." "What's your hurry? Sit down. There's more to say much more." "As for instance ?" "I had a fancy you might like to put a question or two." Lanyard shook his head; it was plain that Wertheimer designed to draw him out through his interest in Lucy Shannon.
What comforting distinction was to be drawn between on the one hand a blackmailer like Wertheimer, a chevalier-d'industrie like De Morbihan, or a patron of Apaches like Popinot, and on the other himself whose bread was eaten in the sweat of thievery? He drew a long face; whistled softly; shook his head; and smiled a wry smile.
"'The wind bloweth where it listeth," Wertheimer affirmed. "How do I know whither you'll blow, now you're a free agent again, entirely on your own? I've got no control over your movements." "The S. S. has." "Never no more. Didn't you tender me your resignation a moment ago? Wasn't it promptly accepted?" "Look here: What the devil !"
"Daresay you're right," Lanyard assented carelessly, following, as Wertheimer turned up the lights, into a modest salon cosily furnished. "You live here alone, I understand?" "Quite: make yourself perfectly at ease; nobody can hear us. And," the Englishman added with a laugh, "do forget your pistol, Mr. Lanyard. I'm not Popinot, nor is this Troyon's."
He told himself it wasn't altogether the professional jealousy of De Morbihan, Popinot and Wertheimer; it was the strange, rancorous spite that animated Bannon. But, again, why? Could it be that Bannon so resented the aid and encouragement Lanyard had afforded the girl in her abortive attempt to escape? Or was it, perhaps, that Bannon held Lanyard responsible for the arrest and death of Greggs?
For the Englishman, rousing from his appropriated ease, dropped his book to the floor beside the chair, uprose and extended a cordial hand, exclaiming: "H'are ye, Monsieur Duchemin?" To this the other responded, after a slight pause, obscurely enough: "Oh! ancient history, eh? Well, for the matter of that: How are you, Mister Wertheimer?"
And by the time he was ready to employ it, Lanyard would be well beyond his reach. Wertheimer, too, would deprecate violence until all else failed; his half-caste type was as cowardly as it was blackguard; and cowards kill only impulsively, before they've had time to weigh consequences.
But I shall appreciate it all the more when I go back." "Then you can go back, if you like?" "Meaning your impression is, I made it too hot for me?" Wertheimer interposed with a quizzical glance. "I shan't tell you about that. But I'm hoping to be able to run home for an occasional week-end without vexing Scotland Yard. Why not come with me some time?" Lanyard shook his head.
Moreover, I'm no child. ... Popinot, why not disembarrass your amiable features? And you, Mr. Wertheimer, I'm sure, will feel more at ease with an open countenance as the saying runs," he said, nodding to the man beside Popinot. "As for this gentleman," he concluded, eyeing the third, "I haven't the pleasure of his acquaintance."
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