Jack O' Judgment, Edgar Wallace [best historical biographies TXT] 📗

I'll give you fifty thousand pounds if you write an agreement that you will not molest or bother me again."

There was a silence, and the soldier crouched behind the settee, listening intently. He heard Pinto laugh softly as one who is greatly amused.

"That, my good friend," said Pinto, "would be blackmail. You don't imagine that I would be guilty of such an iniquity? I know nothing about your past; I merely suggest that you should sell me one of your mills at a reasonable price."

"Twenty thousand pounds is reasonable for you, I suppose," said Crotin sarcastically.

"It is a lot of money," replied Pinto.

The Yorkshireman pulled open the drawer of his desk and slammed in the cheque-book, closing it with a bang.

"Well, I'll give you nothing," he said, "neither mill nor money. You can clear out of here."

He crossed the room to the telephone.

"What are you going to do?" asked Pinto, secretly alarmed.

"I'm going to send for the police," said the other grimly. "I'm going to give myself up and I'm going to pinch thee too!"

If Crotin had turned the handle of the old-fashioned telephone, if he had continued in his resolution, if he had shown no sign of doubt, a different story might have been told. But with his hand raised, he hesitated, and Pinto clinched his argument.

"Why have all that trouble?" he said. "Your liberty and reputation are much more to you than a mill. You're a rich man. Your wife is wealthy in her own right. You have enough to live on for the rest of your life. Why make trouble?"

The little man dropped his head with a groan and walked wearily back to the desk.

"Suppose I sell this?" he said in a low voice. "How do I know you won't come again----"

"When a gentleman gives his word of honour," began Pinto with dignity, but was interrupted by a shrill laugh that made his blood run cold.

He swung round with an oath. Framed in an opening of the curtains which covered one of the windows was the Figure!

The black silk gown, the white masked face, the soft felt hat pulled down over the eyes--his teeth chattered at the sight of it, and he fell back against the wall.

"Who wouldn't trust Pinto?" squeaked the voice. "Who wouldn't take Pinto's word of honour? Jack o' Judgment wouldn't, poor old Jack o' Judgment!"

Jack o' Judgment! The soldier behind the settee heard the words and gasped. Without any thought of consequence he raised his head and looked. The Jack o' Judgment was standing where he expected him to be. He had come through the window which the soldier had left unbarred. This time he carried no weapon in his hand, and Pinto was quick to see the possibilities. The electric switch was within reach, and his hand shot out. There was a click and the room went dark.

But the figure of Jack o' Judgment was silhouetted against the night, and Pinto whipped out the long knife which never left him and sent it hurtling at his enemy. He saw the figure duck, heard the crash of broken glass, and then Jack o' Judgment vanished. In a rage which was three parts terror, he sprang through the open French windows on to the terrace in time to see a dark figure drop over the balustrade and fly across the park.


CHAPTER XXVII

THE CAPTURE OF "JACK"


Pinto leapt the parapet and was following swiftly in its wake. He guessed rather than knew that for once Jack o' Judgment had come unarmed, and a wild exultation filled him at the thought that it was left to him to unveil the mystery which was weighing even upon the iron nerve of the colonel.

The figure gained the shrubbery, and the pursuer heard the rustle of leaves as it plunged into the depths. In a second he was blundering after. He lost sight of his quarry and stopped to listen. There was no sound.

"Hiding," grunted Pinto. And then aloud: "Come out of it. I see you and I'll shoot you like a dog if you don't come to me!"

There was no reply. He dashed in the direction he thought Jack o' Judgment must have taken and again missed. With a curse he turned off in another direction and then suddenly glimpsed a shape before him and leapt at it. He was flung back with little or no effort, and stood bewildered, for the coat his hand had touched was rough and he had felt metal buttons.

"A soldier!" he gasped. "Who are you?"

"Steady," said the other; "don't get rattled, Pinto."

"Who are you?" asked Pinto again.

"My name is Stafford King," said the soldier, "and I think I shall want you."

Pinto half turned to go, but was gripped.

"You can go back to Huddersfield and pack your boxes," said Stafford King. "You won't leave the town except by my permission."

"What do you mean?" demanded Pinto, breathing heavily.

"I mean," said Stafford King, "that the unfortunate man you tried to blackmail must prosecute whatever be the consequence to himself. Now, Pinto, you've a grand chance of turning King's evidence."

Pinto made no reply. He was collecting his thoughts. Then, after a while, he said:

"I'll talk about that later, King. I'm staying at the Huddersfield Arms. I'll meet you there in an hour."

Stafford King did not move until the sound of Pinto's footsteps had died away. Then he began a systematic search, for he too was anxious to end the mystery of Jack o' Judgment. He had followed Pinto when he dashed from the room and had heard the Portuguese calling upon Jack o' Judgment to surrender. That mysterious individual, who was obviously lying low, could not be very far away.

He was in a shrubbery which proved later to be a clump of rhododendrons, in the centre of which was a summer-house. To the heart of this shrubbery led three paths, one of which Stafford discovered quite close at hand. The sound of gravel under his feet gave him an idea, and he began walking backward till he came to the shadow of a tree, and then, simulating the sound of retreating footsteps, he waited.

After a while he heard a rustle, but did not move.

Somebody was coming cautiously through the bushes, and that somebody appeared as a shadowy, indistinct figure, not twenty yards away. Only the keenest eyesight could have detected it, and still Stafford waited. Presently he heard the soft crunch of gravel under its feet, and at that moment leapt towards it. The figure stood as though paralysed for a second, and then, turning quickly, fled back to the heart of the bushes. Before it had gone a dozen paces Stafford had reached it, and his arm was about its neck.

"My friend," he breathed, "I don't know what I'm to do with you now I've got you, but I certainly am going to register your face for future reference."

"No, no," said a muffled voice from behind the mask. "No, no, don't; I beg of you!"

But the mask was plucked away, and, fumbling in his pocket, Stafford produced his electric lamp and flashed it on the face of his prisoner. Then, with a cry of amazement, he stepped back--for he had looked upon the face of Maisie White!

For a moment there was silence, neither speaking. Then Stafford found his voice.

"Maisie!" he said in bewilderment, "Maisie! You--Jack o' Judgment?"

She did not answer.

"Phew!" whistled Stafford.

Then sitting on a trunk, he laughed.

"It is Maisie, of all people in the world. And I suspected it, too!"

The girl had covered her face with her hands and was crying softly, and he moved towards her and put his arm about her shoulder.

"Darling, it is nothing very terrible. Please don't go on like that."

"Oh, you don't understand, you don't understand!" she wailed. "I wanted to catch Silva. I guessed that he was coming north on one of his blackmailing trips, and I followed him."

"Did you come up by the same train?"

He felt her nod.

"So did I," said Stafford with a little grin.

"I followed him to the bazaar," she said, "and then I watched him from a little eating-house on the opposite side of the road. Do you know, I wondered whether you were here too, and I looked everywhere for you, but apparently there was nobody in sight when Pinto came out with Lady Sybil, only a soldier."

"I was that soldier," said Stafford.

"I discovered where Mr. Crotin lived and came up later," she went on. "Of course, I had no very clear idea of what I was going to do, and it was only by the greatest luck that I found the window of the library open. It was the only window that was open," she said with a little laugh.

"It wasn't so much your luck as my forethought," smiled Stafford.

"Now I want to tell you about Jack o' Judgment," she began, but he stopped her.

"Let that explanation wait," he said; "the point is, that with your evidence and mine we have Pinto by the throat--what was that?"

There was the sound of a shot.

"Probably a poacher," said Stafford after a moment. "I can't imagine Pinto using a gun. Besides, I don't think he carries one. What did he throw at you?"

"A knife," she said, and he felt her shiver; "it just missed me. But tell me, how have we got Pinto?"

They had left the shrubbery and were walking towards the house. She stopped a little while to take off her long black cloak, and he saw that she was wearing a short-skirted dress beneath.

"We must compel Crotin to prosecute," said Stafford. "With our evidence nothing can save Pinto, and probably he will drag in the colonel, too. Even your evidence isn't necessary," he said after a moment's thought, "and if it's possible I will keep you out of it."

A woman's scream interrupted him.

"There's trouble there," he said, and raced for the house. Somebody was standing on the terrace as he approached, and hailed him excitedly.

"Is that you, Terence?"

It was a servant's voice.

"No," replied Stafford, "I am a police officer."

"Thank God!" said the man on the terrace. "Will you come up, sir? I thought it was the gamekeeper I was speaking to."

"What is the matter?" asked Stafford as he vaulted over the parapet.

"Mr. Crotin has shot himself, sir," said the butler in quavering tones.

* * * * *

Twelve hours later Stafford King reported to his chief, giving the details of the overnight tragedy.

"Poor fellow!" said Sir Stanley. "I was afraid of it ending that way."

"Did you know he was being blackmailed?" asked Stafford.

Sir Stanley nodded.

"We had a report, which apparently emanated from Jack o' Judgment, who of late has started sending his communications to me direct," said Sir Stanley. "You can, of course, do nothing with Pinto. Your evidence isn't sufficient. What a pity you hadn't a second witness." He thought for a moment. "Even then it wouldn't have been sufficient unless we had