Steampunk Prime_ A Vintage Steampunk Reader - Mike Ashley [20]
“Ah, Murray,” he said, “we are well met; for though this evening brings us another meeting, I had rather I found you here. I have a matter to discuss with you.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the other, in a voice that shook with ill-repressed astonishment. “You have made a mistake. I do not know you, nor is my name Murray. I beg you will excuse me, I am about a business that presses.”
“Don’t be foolish, Murray,” said Mr. Dryden. “I tell you I recognize you; you’ve as much time as I have for a talk.”
“Again, sir, I repeat that you are wrong,” said the other. “I am not Murray, and your interference is impertinent. Good night.”
“Oh, you aren’t Murray, aren’t you; you think to face it out!” Said Mr. Dryden; “but I know you, you fraud. “What about these?” And, making a rapid step forward, he caught at his companion’s beard with both hands. It came away at once, jerking the spectacles with it. They fell and shattered on the pavement.
“Now are you Murray?” Shouted Mr. Dryden in a voice of passion. “Damn you, you shall own it! I’ve found out all about you and the Automaton trick, and I’ve come here for a little business talk. If you’ll only be sensible, we can soon come to terms.”
“You have discovered my identity and you have me at a disadvantage,” said Mr. Murray. “What do you want of me? Tell me quickly, for the time presses.”
“There can be no match till I come, so you needn’t hurry,” said Mr. Dryden. “Listen. I must have that money, and it’s just possible that you may beat me. I didn’t come here to threaten, only to frighten you out of your play by discovering my knowledge. It was your refusal to acknowledge yourself that gave me the idea. Now here is my proposal. You let me win, and I say nothing; beat me, and I expose you. An exposure would cost you a lot more than the £2,000 you lose to me.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort,” said Mr. Murray; “you make a great mistake if you think you can bully me. I had known you, Mr. Dryden, as a gentleman of good manners and repute. I am sorry to find out my mistake. You may do your worst, prove the trick if you can. Now let me pass.”
“You refuse then; well, you shan’t go. Curse you Murray, I must have the money. Don’t struggle or I shall hurt you. Oh, you will, will you? Take that, then.”
Swinging his heavily mounted stick, he struck the old librarian a crushing blow behind the ear. The old man fell headlong, and, rolling over, came upon the mud slope. Down this he began to slide, gathering force as he went, till Mr. Dryden, who was watching, aghast at his action, saw the stream catch the feet and swing the whole body round into the river. For a second the face showed white above the black water. Then it was gone into the darkness.
For a short time Mr. Dryden stood thinking. He found to his astonishment that he knew no remorse. One thought alone possessed him; that now he must win the match and