“Do you know?” she asked.
It was the first time he had ever discussed the matter calmly, for the very mention of the attack upon Jeff had hitherto been sufficient to drive him to an incoherent frenzy.
“Yes, I know,” he said gratingly. “It was Peter Kane, but you needn’t say anything about that—I’ll fix him, I tell you.”
“Jeff thinks it was—”
“Never mind what Jeff thinks,” he said impatiently. “Do as I tell you.”
He sent her into the house to brew him a cup of tea—Emanuel was a great drinker of tea—and in her absence he had something to say to his son.
“Jeff, there’s a big call for your stuff,” he said. “I’ve had a letter from Harvey. He says there’s another man started in the north of England, and he’s turning out pretty good material. But they want yours—they can place half a million on the Continent right away. Jeff, what Harvey says is right. If there’s a slackening of supply while you’re ill, the busy fellows are going to tumble to you.”
“I’ve thought of that,” said Jeffrey. “You can tell anybody who’s interested that there’ll be a printing next week.”
“Are you well enough to go up?” asked his father anxiously.
Jeffrey nodded, and shifted himself more erect, but winced in the process.
“Reeder’s been here: did she tell you?”
Emanuel nodded.
“I’m not worried much about Reeder. Down in Dartmoor he’s a bogey, but then, they bogey any man they don’t know. And they’ve got all sorts of stories about him. It’s very encouraging to get near to the real thing.”
They laughed together, and for the rest of the day discussed ways and means.
Jeffrey had said no more than was true when he had told the girl he was well covered. In various parts of the country he had twelve banking accounts, each in a different name, and in one of the safe deposits, an enormous sum in currency, ready for emergency.
“You’ve got to stop some time, I suppose,” said his father, “but it is mighty tempting to carry on with those profits. It’s a bigger graft than I ever attempted, Jeff.” And his son accepted this respectful tribute with a smirk.
The old man sat, his clasped hands between his knees, staring, out over the sea.
“It has got to end some day, and that would be a fine end, but I can’t quite see how it could be done.”
“What are you talking about?” asked the other curiously.
“I’m thinking about Peter—the respectable Mr. Peter Kane. Not quite so respectable in that girl’s eyes as he used to be, but respectable enough to have busies to dinner, and that crook, Johnny Gray—Johnny will marry the girl, Jeff.”
Jeffrey Legge winced.
“She can marry the devil so far as I’m concerned,” he said.
“But she can’t marry without divorcing you. Do you realise that, my son? That’s the law. And she can’t divorce you without shopping you for bigamy. That’s the law too. And the question is, will she delay her action until Johnny’s made a bit, or will she start right in? If she gives me just the time I want, Jeff, you’ll have your girl and I’ll have Peter Kane. She’s your wife in the eyes of the law.”
There was a significance in his words that made the other man look at him quickly.
“What’s the great idea?” he asked.
“Suppose Peter was the Big Printer?” said Emanuel, speaking in a tone that was little above a whisper. “Suppose he was caught with the goods? It could be done. I don’t mean by planting the stuff in his house—nobody would accept that; but getting him right on the spot, so that his best friend at Scotland Yard couldn’t save him? How’s that for an idea?”
“It couldn’t be done,” said the other immediately.
“Oh, couldn’t it?” sneered Emanuel. “You can do any old thing you want, if you make up your mind to do it. Or if you’re game to do it.”
“That wouldn’t get me the girl.”
Emanuel turned his head slowly toward his heir.
“If they found the Big Printer, they’ll have to find the big printing,” he said deliberately. “That means we should all have to skip, and skip lively. We might have a few hours start, and in these days of aeroplanes, three hours is four hundred miles. Jeff, if we are caught, and they guess I’ve been in this printing all the time, I shall never see outside again. And you’ll go down for life. They can’t give you any worse than that—not if you took the girl away with you.”
“By force?” asked the other in surprise. The idea had not occurred to him.
The father nodded.
“If we have to skip, that’s the only thing for you to do, son. It’s no offence—remember that. She’s your wife.” He looked to left and right, to see if there was the faintest shadow of a chance that he would be overheard, and then: “Suppose we ask Peter and his girl and Johnny Gray to dinner? A nice little dinner party, eh?”
“Where?” asked the other suspiciously.
“In Room 13,” said Emanuel Legge. “In Room 13, Jeff, boy! A nice little dinner. What do you think? And then two whiffs of sleep stuff—”
“You’re mad,” said the other angrily. “What’s the good of talking that way? Do you think he’s going to come to dinner and bring his girl? Oh, you’re nutty to think it!”
“Trust me,” said Emanuel Legge.
XX
Walking down Regent Street one morning, Johnny Gray saw a familiar face—a man standing on the kerb selling penny trinkets. The face was oddly familiar, but he had gone on a dozen paces before he could recall where he had seen him before, and turned back. The man knew him; at any rate, his uncouth features twisted in a smile.
“Good morning, my lord,” he said. “What about a toy balloon for the baby?”
“Your
