Bones in London - Edgar Wallace [84]
“Than anybody in the whole wide world,” said Bones, “and that’s a fact, dear young Marguerite.”
“Yes, yes,” she said hurriedly, “but this is something about business, and about – about this deal which you’re going into. I’ve been talking to Captain Hamilton this afternoon, while you were out, and I know it’s a swindle.”
“I know that, too,” said Bones calmly.
“But,” said the puzzled girl, “you are putting all your money into it. Mr Hamilton said that, if this failed, you might be ruined.”
Bones nodded. Outwardly calm, the light of battle shone in his eye.
“It’s a gamble, dear young typewriter,” he said, “a terrific gamble, but it’s going to turn out all right for old Bones.”
“But Mr Hamilton said you can’t possibly make anything from the property – that it is derelict and worth practically nothing. Only a tenth of the stores are open, and the trading is–”
Bones smiled.
“I’m not gambling on the property,” he said softly. “Oh, dear, no, young fiancée, I’m not gambling on the property.”
“Then what on earth are you gambling on?” she asked, a little piqued.
“On me,” said Bones in the same tone. “On poor old silly ass Bones, and I’m coming through!”
He got up and came across to her and laid his big hand on her shoulder gently.
“If I don’t come through, I shan’t be a beggar. I shall have enough to build a jolly little place, where we can raise cows and horses and vegetables of all descriptions, dear old typewriter. And if I do come through, we’ll still have that same place – only perhaps we’ll have more cows and a pig or two.”
She laughed, and he raised her smiling lips to his and kissed them.
Mr de Vinne had dined well and had enjoyed an evening’s amusement. He had been to the Hippodrome, and his enjoyment had been made the more piquant by the knowledge that Mr Augustus Tibbetts had as good as placed ten thousand pounds in his pocket. He was a surprised man, on returning to Sloane Square, to discover, waiting in the hail, his unwilling benefactor.
“Why, Mr Tibbetts,” he said, “this is a great surprise.”
“Yes,” said Bones, “I suppose it is, old Mr de Vinne.” And he coughed solemnly, as one who was the guardian of a great secret.
“Come in,” said Mr de Vinne, more genial than ever. “This is my little den” – indicating a den which the most fastidious of lions would not have despised. “Sit down and have a cigar, old man. Now, what brings you here tonight?”
“The shares,” said Bones soberly. “I’ve been worrying about the shares.”
“Ah, yes,” said Mr de Vinne carelessly. “Why worry about them, dear boy?”
“Well, I thought I might lose the opportunity of buying them. I think there’s something to be made out of that property. In fact,” said Bones emphatically, “I’m pretty certain I could make a lot of money if I had control.”
“I agree with you,” said the earnest Mr de Vinne.
“Now the point is,” said Bones, “I’ve been studying that list of yours, and it seems to me that the majority of the two hundred and fifty thousand shares issued are either held by you or by one of the Poles – jolly old Joe or jolly old Fred, I don’t know which.”
“Jolly old Fred,” said Mr de Vinne gravely.
“Now, if there’s one person I don’t want to meet tonight, or tomorrow, or any other day,” said Bones, “it’s Pole.”
“There’s no need for you to meet him,” smiled de Vinne.
“In fact,” said Bones, with sudden ferocity, “I absolutely refuse to buy any shares from Fred. I’ll buy yours, but I will not buy a single one from Fred.”
Mr De Vinne thought rapidly.
“There’s really no reason,” he said carelessly. “As a matter of fact, I took over Fred’s shares tonight, or the majority of them. I can let you have – let me see” – he made a rapid calculation – “I can let you have a hundred and eighty thousand shares at nineteen and nine.”
“Eighteen shillings,” said Bones firmly, “and not a penny more.”
They wrangled about the price for five minutes, and then, in an outburst of generosity, Mr de Vinne agreed.
“Eighteen shillings it shall be. You’re a hard devil,” he said. “Now, shall we settle this in the morning?”
“Settle it