THE WAITER AT THE "BLACK POST"
Laverick, notwithstanding that the hour was becoming late, found an outfitter's shop in the Strand still open, and made such purchases as he could on Morrison's behalf. Then, with the bag ready packed, he returned to his rooms. Time had passed quickly during the last three hours. It was nearly nine o'clock when he stepped out of the lift and opened the door of his small suite of rooms with the latchkey which hung from his chain. He began to change his clothes mechanically, and he had nearly finished when the telephone bell upon his table rang.
"Who's that?" he asked, taking up the receiver.
"Hall-porter, sir," was the answer. "Person here wishes to see you particularly.""A person!" Laverick repeated. "Man or woman?""Man, sir.
"Better send him up," Laverick ordered.
"He's a seedy-looking lot, sir," the porter explained "I told him that I scarcely thought you'd see him.""Never mind," Laverick answered. "I can soon get rid of the fellow if he's cadging."He went back to his room and finished fastening his tie. His own affairs had sunk a little into the background lately, but the announcement of this unusual visitor brought them back into his mind with a rush. Notwithstanding his iron nerves, his fingers shook as he drew on his dinner-jacket and walked out to the passageway to answer the bell which rang a few seconds later. Aman stood outside, dressed in shabby black clothes, whose face somehow was familiar to him, although he could not, for the moment, place it.
"Do you want to see me?" Laverick asked.
"If you please, Mr. Laverick," the man replied, "if you could spare me just a moment.""You had better come inside, then," Laverick said, closing the door and preceding the way into the sitting-room. At any rate, there was nothing threatening about the appearance of this visitor - nor anything official.
"I have taken the liberty of coming, sir," the man announced, "to ask you if you can tell me where I can find Mr. Arthur Morrison."Laverick's face showed no sign of his relief. What he felt he succeeded in keeping to himself.
"You mean Morrison - my partner, I suppose?" he answered.
"If you please, sir," the man admitted. "I wanted a word or two with him most particular. I found out his address from the caretaker of your office, but he don't seem to have been home to his rooms at all last night, and they know nothing about him there.""Your face seems familiar to me," Laverick remarked. "Where do you come from?"The man hesitated.
"I am the waiter, sir, at the 'Black Post,' - little bar and restaurant, you know," he added, "just behind your offices, sir, at the end of Crooked Friars' Alley. You've been in once or twice, Mr. Laverick, I think. Mr. Morrison 's a regular customer.
He comes in for a drink most mornings."
Laverick nodded.
"I knew I'd seen your face somewhere," he said. "What do you want with Mr. Morrison?"The man was silent. He twirled his hat and looked embarrassed.
"It's a matter I shouldn't like to mention to any one except Mr.
Morrison himself, sir," he declared finally. "If you could put me in the way of seeing him, I'd be glad. I may say that it would be to his advantage, too."Laverick was thoughtful for a moment.
"As it happens, that's a little difficult," he explained. "Mr.
Morrison and I disagreed on a matter of business last night. Iundertook certain responsibilities which he should have shared, and he arranged to leave the firm and the country at once. We parted - well, not exactly the best of friends. I am afraid Icannot give you any information.""You haven't seen him since then, sir?" the man asked.
Laverick lied promptly but he lied badly. His visitor was not in the least convinced.
"I am afraid I haven't made myself quite plain, sir," he said.
"It's to do him a bit o' good that I'm here. I'm not wishing him any harm at all. On the contrary, it's a great deal more to his advantage to see me than it will be mine to find him.""I think," Laverick suggested, "that you had better be frank with me. Supposing I knew where to catch Morrison before he left the country, I could easily deal with you on his behalf."The man looked doubtful.
"You see, sir," he replied awkwardly, "it's a matter I wouldn't like to breathe a word about to any one but Mr. Morrison himself.
It's - it's a bit serious."
The man's face gave weight to his words. Curiously enough, the gleam of terror which Laverick caught in his white face reminded him of a similar look which he had seen in Morrison's eyes barely an hour ago. To gain time, Laverick moved across the room, took a cigarette from a box and lit it. A conviction was forming itself in his mind. There was something definite behind these hysterical paroxysms of his late partner, something of which this man had an inkling.
"Look here," he said, throwing himself into an easychair, "I think you had better be frank with me. I must know more than I know at present before I help you to find Morrison, even if he is to be found. We didn't part very good friends, but I'm his friend enough - for the sake of others," he added, after a moment's hesitation, "to do all that I could to help him out of any difficulty he may have stumbled into. So you see that so far as anything you may have to say to him is concerned, I think you might as well say it to me.""You couldn't see your way, then, sir," the man continued doggedly, "to tell me where I could find Mr. Morrison himself?""No, I couldn't," Laverick decided. "Even if I knew exactly where he was - and I'm not admitting that - I couldn't put you in touch with him unless I knew what your business was.
The man's eyes gleamed. He was a typical waiter - pasty-faced, unwholesome-looking - but he had small eyes of a greenish cast, and they were expressive.
"I think, sir," he said, "you've some idea yourself, then, that Mr.