Till the Clock Stops Part 39

"You mean that I have time to--to see Mr. Bullard? He is coming to the house this morning--may be there now--and I don't want him to get near father. Yes," she said, in a lifeless voice, "I will speak to him--plead with him, if necessary--"

"No, you shan't!" said Teddy, who doubted very much whether Mr. Bullard would reach Earl's Gate that morning. The inquest was at noon.

"It's the only way out. Father must not be allowed to trust himself to the tender mercies of Lord Caradale next week. I know Lord Caradale. He doesn't mind how money is made; but he does mind how it is lost. Oh, Teddy, don't you think father has suffered enough?"

"More than enough--and so has his daughter." Teddy gritted his teeth.

Every moment this girl grew dearer; every moment she seemed further away.

"Doris," he went on, "I want your promise that you will do nothing at all till I see you again. Should Bullard come to the house, keep him from Mr.

Lancaster, but tell him nothing. Meet me here again at three o'clock."

Gently he stopped her questions. "And forgive my leaving you at once.

Don't hope too much, dear, but don't altogether despair. There's just a chance that there may be another way out."

The hour that followed was the most thronged of this young man's life.

Fortunately he had left a note for Alan, explaining his sudden departure on the score of some forgotten business which had to be overtaken before the inquest, so he was free to go direct to a certain legal office in the city. As for Doris, she went home in that numb condition of mind and spirit which comes upon some of us while we wait for a great surgeon's verdict. Her mother informed her that Mr. Bullard had telephoned, postponing his call till the afternoon, also that she had received and accepted Mr. Craig's invitation to Grey House.

"We shall travel on Tuesday, Doris, so you must see that your father has no relapse."

Doris turned away without answering. Tuesday! That was a long, long way off--in another life, it seemed.

CHAPTER XXV

The inquest was over. A suggestion for an adjournment, half-heartedly expressed by one juryman, had been briefly discussed and withdrawn.

Bullard had come through his ordeal without a spot of discredit. He looked pale and f.a.gged, but what was more natural in the circ.u.mstances? A horrid experience it must have been, those present agreed, to behold a face and clutching hands fall away from a fourth-story window! And he was going to pay for a decent funeral for the abandoned wretch who might have murdered him! There was a gentleman for you!

Nevertheless, more than once Bullard's nerve had been at breaking point.

What was young France doing at the inquest? He was to know soon enough.

Teddy was waiting for him just outside the door.

"I have a taxi here, Mr. Bullard," he said, "so we can go to your office together. I have a little business to discuss--financial, I should say."

"I'm afraid it must keep, Mr. France," Bullard managed to reply fairly coolly. "This is Sat.u.r.day, you know, and after business hours."

"You will see for yourself presently, Mr. Bullard, that it won't keep. In fact, if you don't step into that cab at once--"

Bullard got in, Teddy followed, and the cab started.

"Wow," began Bullard, "what the--"

"Hope you don't mind my smoking," said Teddy, lighting a cigarette.

"Rather an uncomfy corner you've just come out of, Mr. Bullard."

"Kindly choose your words more carefully--'corner' does not apply to my recent unpleasant experience--and name your business."

"We shall be in your office in a very few minutes, and I prefer to name it there."

"Very well." Bullard restrained himself and fell to thinking hard. What had brought France to the inquest? The question repeated itself maddeningly. The tragedy had not been mentioned in the morning papers--their early editions, at any rate.

Teddy gave him a minute's grace, then casually remarked--

"You heard from my friend, Alan Craig, this morning, I believe.

Miraculous escape, wasn't it?"

"Very.... Yes, I have a letter from Mr. Craig--to which I shall reply--direct."

"Alan is an odd chap," Teddy pursued. "No sooner is he home and in safety than he makes his will. Did it at his lawyer's in Glasgow, the day before yesterday."

After an almost imperceptible pause--"Indeed!" said Bullard, a little thickly. "Only I'm afraid I don't happen to be interested in Mr. Alan Craig's affairs."

"Sorry," Teddy murmured, and gave him another minute's grace. Then--

"Awful end that for poor old Flitch, Mr. Bullard."

The man's face, nay, his whole body, contracted for an instant; yet he was still master of himself.

"Who?"

"Flitch--the dead man, you know."

"The man's name was Dunning, as you must have heard, and as the police discovered for themselves."

"Really, I must go to an aurist! I've got it into my head as Flitch."

"Confound you!" said Bullard, on the verge of a furious, crazy outbreak, "will you hold your tongue? I've business to think of. Lost a whole morning with that cursed inquest."

"All right, Mr. Bullard. Don't apologise."

There was no more talk till they reached the office. The clerks had gone.

Bullard led the way, not to his own private room, but to Lancaster's.

"Say what you've got to say quickly," he snapped.

"This," said Teddy, looking leisurely about him, "is surely not the room where it happened.--What's the matter, Mr. Bullard?"

Again Bullard caught and held himself on the verge. "I can give you five minutes, if you will talk sense," he said, taking the chair at Lancaster's desk, which had been left open. "Either you are drunk or you fondly imagine you have got hold of something. Now, go on! Come to the point!"

"I will," said Teddy. "How much exactly does Mr. Lancaster owe the Syndicate?"

Bullard started, but not without relief. The relief would have been fuller, however, but for the questioner's presence at the inquest.

"What business is that of yours, Mr. France?"

"Simply that I'm going to see it paid."