19000 Pound Part 7

The look of ignorance concerning its use made the man smile.

"Sit down," he said; "it's evident you are a new hand at making up. Let me show you."

He did. Daubed the grease paint on the hair, on the brows, and then combed them out.

When Loide looked in the gla.s.s again he started in astonishment.... He paid the man, thanked him, and withdrew.

The shop of a ready made clothier's caught his attention. He went in and bought a light colored cutaway coat and vest and soft cap--he had worn black clothing and the regulation chimney pot hat for the last thirty years of his life.

At a hosier's he purchased a colored s.h.i.+rt with a turn down collar, and a colored bow.

His immaculate white s.h.i.+rt, stiff upstanding collar and stock, should be discarded for the time being.

Later on, when he had donned this attire, he marveled at the change in himself. He was confident that no living soul would be able to recognize him.

And curiously enough, nature a.s.sisted him.

As he sat in the train to Liverpool, the loss of his upstanding collar and stock made his open neck an easy prey to the draft. When he set foot on the deck of the steamer he had a sore throat and a cold, which made his voice so raucous that no soul would have recognized in it the clear, distinct utterance of Mr. Loide, the lawyer.

His portmanteau on board, after satisfying the officer in charge of his right to a berth, he at once took possession.

He was lying in his berth--apparently asleep--when the occupant of the other half of the cabin entered.

He was lying with his face to the wall, and only his red hair was visible. That and the smart colored cutaway suit, he felt, made him as much unlike the city lawyer as well could be. He did not fear Depew's recognition.

Soon after the second man entered the cabin, the vessel started. Loide knew at what hour she was expected to arrive off her one and only stopping place.

During the night, it was fair to a.s.sume that no officer of the s.h.i.+p would come to the cabin, and during the night he would kill and rob the other man. In the early morning he would leave on the Queenstown tender.

That was his scheme.

He kept in his bunk. By the electric light in the cabin his companion read for some time.

He could hear the rustling of the newspaper; he dared not look round.

About midnight the paper was thrown down, and the listener heard the sounds of a man making ready for his berth.

And presently the electric b.u.t.ton was turned, and the cabin was in darkness.

The lawyer's heart beat the faster then. So far all was going as well as he could wish.

Darkness, and his victim rec.u.mbent, perhaps asleep. What could he wish for more? Fortune was favoring him.

There were three hours now to wait before the reaching of Queenstown, and during those three hours the other man went to sleep.

Loide knew it, because he heard the sleeper's deep, heavy breathing, which bordered closely on snoring.

He handled his weapon, and dropped noiselessly to his stockinged feet.

Paused--the same still, regular breathing.

He went to the door and noiselessly shot home the bolt. Paused--the same still, regular breathing.

Then he prepared to stop that breathing forever.

CHAPTER VI

MURDER ON THE HIGH SEAS

Before his companion had entered the cabin, Loide had located everything in it.

Although in the dark, he knew the exact position of all things. So he reached the sleeper's side without a stumble or noise.

He knew where to place his hand on a towel, and he placed it. Folded it into a sort of pad, and gripped the middle in his left hand.

He bent over the sleeper, heard his breathing, and located his mouth by the feel of the warm breath. He paused to notice that the sleeper was lying on his back, then he gripped his knife--saw fas.h.i.+on.

In another moment he had clapped the towel over his victim's mouth, and drawn down the knife with a sawing, cutting movement.

There was just a faint, gurgling sound for a moment, a convulsive quiver of the whole of the sleeper's body, then stillness. The towel had stifled any possible cry--the knife had done the rest.

Loide stood there for a moment to recover his breath. He could almost hear his own heart beating.

He tried to still it by thinking that there was not a sc.r.a.p of risk, that it was all over now, that, presently, he would possess nineteen thousand pounds.

That last thought was not without its comfort. It is a fas.h.i.+on to speak of money as if it were dross, but as a salve to the conscience, pounds, s.h.i.+llings, and pence are unsurpa.s.sed.

The towel he was holding, he opened and threw it over the dead man's head and shoulders. He was not hyper-sensitive, but he wanted to avoid seeing what the towel would hide.

Then he turned the b.u.t.ton of the electric light.

He looked round--not a sign of a struggle, not a drop of blood. Yet stay--his right hand! He must wash it.

Quickly he had water in the basin and was cleaning that hateful red stain away. While he wiped his hands, he reflected that he had but to pull the head curtains, and the body would appear to be that of an ordinary sleeping man.

That way the s.h.i.+p might get a dozen hours away from Queenstown before discovery. He shook hands with himself over the happiness of the idea he had--so far--carried out so cleverly.

Then he turned up the blankets and sheeting of the bunk. For obvious reasons he preferred turning them up from the feet to turning them down from the head.

Depew had, with an oath, told him that, sleeping or waking, the belt would never leave him. He thought grimly that now the man was dead the oath would be broken.

He started in surprise; the man was not wearing a belt! He stood still, holding the bedclothes in sheer amazement.

He had expected the thing to be so easy of accomplishment--and the object of his search was not there at all!

He stepped back, and fell rather than sat on his own berth. He was more than surprised.