“And you really imagine,” said the hunchback contemptuously, “that even your police would believe such a story that a man would wreck his own office, when on your own showing he had the men trapped inside it.”
“Probably not,” said Drummond affably. “Any more than that they would believe that I was the leader of the Black Gang. So since they’re such a wretched crowd of unbelievers I don’t think it’s much good playing that game, Snooks. Waste of time, isn’t it? So I vote we play another one, all on our own—a little game of make-believe—like we used to play in the nursery.”
“I haven’t an idea what you’re talking about. Captain Drummond,” said the hunchback, shifting uneasily in his chair. For all trace of affability had vanished from the face of the man opposite him, to be replaced by an expression which made Mr. Atkinson pass his tongue once or twice over lips that had suddenly gone dry.
“Haven’t you, you rat?” said Drummond quietly. “Then I’ll tell you. Just for the next five minutes we’re going to pretend that these two astonishing statements which the police—stupid fellows—won’t believe are true. We’re going to pretend—only pretend, mind you, Snooks—that I am the leader of the Black Gang; and we’re going to pretend that you are the man who flung the bomb last night. Just for five minutes only, then we go back to reality and unbelieving policemen.”
And if during the following five minutes strange sounds were heard by Denny in the room below, he was far too accustomed to the sounds of breaking furniture to worry. It wasn’t until the hunchback pulled a knife that Drummond warmed to his work, but from that moment he lost his temper. And because the hunchback was a hunchback—though endowed withal by Nature with singular strength—it jarred on Drummond to fight him as if he had been a normal man. So he flogged him with a rhinoceros-hide whip till his arm ached, and then he flung him into a chair, gasping, cursing, and scarcely human.
“You shouldn’t be so realistic in your stories. Snooks,” he remarked affably, though his eyes were still merciless as he looked at the writhing figure. “And I feel quite sure that that is what the leader of the Black Gang would have done if he had met the peculiar humorist who threw that bomb last night. Bad habit—throwing bombs.”
With a final curse the hunchback staggered to his feet, and his face was diabolical in its fury. “You shall pay for that. Captain Drummond, stroke by stroke, and lash by lash,” he said in a shaking voice.
Drummond laughed shortly. “All the same, old patter,” he remarked. “Tell old Longmoor with my love—” He paused and grinned. “No, on second thoughts I think I’ll tell his reverence myself—at the appointed time.”
“What will you tell him?” sneered the hunchback.
“Why, that his church isn’t the only place where dry-rot has set in. It’s prevalent amongst his pals as well. Must you go? Straight down the stairs, and the card tray in the hall is only electric-plate—so you might leave it.”
With a great effort Mr. Atkinson pulled himself together. His shoulders were still aching abominably from the hiding Drummond had given him, but his loss of self-control had been due more to mental than to physical causes. Immensely powerful though Drummond was, his clothes had largely broken the force of the blows for the hunchback. And now as he stood by the door the uppermost thought in his mind was that he had failed utterly and completely in the main object of his interview. He had come, if possible, to get the diamonds, and failing that, to find out for certain whether Drummond had them in his possession or not. And the net result had been a flogging and nothing more. Too late he realised that in dealing with men of the type of Hugh Drummond anything in the nature of a threat is the surest guarantee of a thick ear obtainable: but then Mr. Atkinson was not used to dealing with men of that type. And the uppermost thought in his mind at the moment was not how he could best revenge himself on this vast brute who had flogged him, but what he was going to say to the Reverend Theodosius Longmoor when he got back to the Ritz. The question of revenge could wait till later.
“Can we come to an understanding, Captain Drummond?” he remarked quietly. “I can assure you, of course, that you have made a terrible mistake in thinking that it was I who threw that bomb at you last night.”
“At me?” Drummond laughed shortly. “Who said you’d thrown it at me? That wasn’t the game at all, Snooks. You threw it at the leader of the Black Gang.”
“Can’t we put our cards on the table?” returned the other with studied moderation. “I know that you are that leader, you know it—though it is possible that no one else would believe it. I was wrong to threaten you—I should have known better, I apologise. But if I may say so I have had my punishment. Now as man to man—can we come to terms?”
“I am waiting,” said Hugh briefly. “Kindly be as concise as possible.”
“Those diamonds, Captain Drummond. Rightly or wrongly I feel tolerably certain that you either have them in your possession, or that you know where they are. Now those diamonds were not mine—did you speak? No. Well—to resume. The diamonds were not mine; they had been deposited in the desk in my office unknown to me. Then this fool—whom you foolishly think was myself—threw the bomb into the office to kill you. I admit it; he told me all about it. He did not kill you, for which fact, if I may say so, I am very glad. You’re a sportsman, and you’ve fought like a sportsman—but our fight, Captain Drummond, has been over other matters. The diamonds are a side-show and hardly concern you and me. I’ll be frank with you; they are the sole wealth saved by a Russian nobleman from the Bolshevist outrages. He deposited them in my office during my absence, with the idea of my selling them for him—and now he and his family must starve. And so what I propose is—”
“I don’t think I want to hear your proposal, Snooks,” said Drummond kindly. “Doubtless I look a fool; doubtless I am a fool, but I like to think that I’m not a congenital idiot. I’m glad you have discovered that it’s not much use threatening me; but to tell you the strict truth, I prefer threats to nauseating hypocrisy. So much so in fact that the thought of that starving nobleman impels me to take more exercise. Ever read Alice in Wonderland, Snooks? A charming book—a masterpiece of English literature. And there is one singularly touching, not to say fruity, bit which concerns Father William—and a genteel young man.”
With a look of complete bewilderment on his face Mr. Atkinson felt himself propelled through the door, until he came to a halt at the top of the stairs.
“It’s a little poem, Snooks, and some day I will recite it to you. Just now I can only remember the one singularly beautiful line which has suggested my new form of exercise.”
Mr. Atkinson became aware of a boot in the lower portion of his back, and then the stairs seemed to rise up and hit him. He finally came to rest in the hall against an old oak chest of the pointed-corner type, and for a moment or two he lay there dazed. Then he scrambled to his feet to find three young men, who had emerged from a lower room during his flight, gazing at him impassively: while standing