Bones in London - Edgar Wallace [34]
From where Hamilton crouched in the bushes he could see the two men plainly. His heart quaked, realizing that one at least was possibly the owner of the property on which he was trespassing; and he had all an Englishman’s horror of trespass. They were talking together, these respectable gentlemen, when Bones began to turn the handle. They had to pass through a patch of sunlight, and it was upon this that Bones concentrated. Once one of them looked around as the sound of clicking came to him, but at that moment Bones decided he had taken enough and stopped.
“This,” said he, as they gained the by-road where they had made their unauthorized entry into the park, “is a good day’s work.”
Their car was on the main road, and to Hamilton’s surprise he found the two staid gentlemen regarding it when the party came up. They were regarding it from a high bank behind the wall – a bank which commanded a view of the road. One of them observed the camera and said something in a low tone to the other; then the speaker walked down the bank, opened a little wicker door in the wall, and came out.
He was a most polite man, and tactful.
“Have you been taking pictures?” he asked.
“Dear old fellow,” said Bones, “I will not deceive you – we have.”
There was a silence.
“In the – park, by any chance?” asked the gentleman carelessly.
Bones flinched. He felt rather guilty, if the truth be told.
“The fact is–” he began.
The elderly man listened to the story of “The Bad Girl’s Legacy,” its genesis, its remarkable literary qualities, and its photographic value. He seemed to know a great deal about cinematographs, and asked several questions.
“So you have an expert who sees the pieces as they are produced?” he asked. “Who is that?”
“Mr Tim Lewis,” said Bones. “He’s one of the–”
“Lewis?” said the other quickly. “Is that Lewis the stockbroker? And does he see every piece you take?”
Bones was getting weary of answering questions. “Respected sir and park proprietor,” he said, “if we have trespassed, I apologise. If we did any harm innocently, and without knowing that we transgressed the jolly old conventions – if we, as I say, took a picture of you and your fellow park proprietor without a thank-you-very-much, I am sorry.”
“You took me and my friend?” asked the elderly man quickly.
“I am telling you, respected sir and cross-examiner, that I took you being in a deuce of a hole for a lawyer.”
“I see,” said the elderly man. “Will you do me a favour? Will you let me see your copy of that picture before you show it to Mr Lewis? As the respected park proprietor” – he smiled – “you owe me that.”
“Certainly, my dear old friend and fellow-sufferer,” said Bones. “Bless my life and heart and soul, certainly!”
He gave the address of the little Wardour Street studio where the film would be developed and printed, and fixed the morrow for an exhibition.
“I should very much like to see it tonight, if it is no trouble to you.”
“We will certainly do our best, sir,” Hamilton felt it was necessary to interfere at this point.
“Of course, any extra expense you are put to as the result of facilitating the printing, or whatever you do to these films,” said the elderly man, “I shall be glad to pay.”
He was waiting for Bones and Hamilton at nine o’clock that night in the dingy little private theatre which Bones, with great difficulty, had secured for his use. The printing of the picture had been accelerated, and though the print was slightly speckled, it was a good one.
The elderly man sat in a chair and watched it reeled off, and when the lights in the little theatre went up, he turned to Bones with a smile.
“I’m interested in cinema companies,” he said, “and I rather fancy that I should like to