The Deaves Affair Part 17

"Wait a minute," said Deaves. "Why wouldn't it be better to call up the club?"

Evan shook his head. "A man's club is his castle. Club servants are always instructed not to give out information, particularly not over the telephone. Telephone Ha.s.sell. You should have telephoned him before sending the money. Or better still go to him. It's his interest to get to the bottom of this."

"Will you go with me?" asked Deaves stabbing his blotter.

Evan smiled. "A minute ago you implied that I was behind the scheme."

"I might have been mistaken. Anyway, if you had nothing to do with it, you ought to be glad to help me clear the matter up."

"I'll go with you," said Evan, "not because I'll feel any necessity for clearing myself, but because it's the most interesting game I've ever been up against!"

"Interesting!" shrilled the old man indignantly, "_Interesting_! If you were being bled white, you wouldn't find it so interesting! I'll go too."

"You'll stay right here, Papa," commanded George Deaves. "And don't you go out until I come back! You've brought trouble enough on me!"

"Well, you needn't bite off my head!" grumbled the old man.

The Deaves limousine was available, and a few minutes later George Deaves and Evan were being shown into the reception room of a magnificent studio apartment on Art's most fas.h.i.+onable street. George Deaves was visibly impressed by the magnificence. It was rather an unusual hour to pay a call perhaps, but the Deaves name was an open sesame. A millionaire and a potential picture-buyer! the great man himself came hurrying to greet them. He was a handsome man of middle age with a lion-like head, and the affable, a.s.sured manner of a citizen of the world.

He showed them into the studio, a superb room, but severe and workmanlike according to the modern usage. Before they were well-seated, an attendant, knowing his duty well, began to pull out canvases.

"I--I didn't come to talk to you about pictures," stammered George Deaves.

At a sign from his master the man left the room. Mr. Ha.s.sell waited politely to be enlightened.

Poor George Deaves floundered about. "It's such a delicate matter--I'm sure I don't know what you will think--I scarcely know how to tell you----"

Ha.s.sell began to look alarmed. He said: "Mr. Deaves, I beg you will be plain with me."

Deaves turned hopelessly to Evan. "You tell him."

"Better show him the letter," said Evan.

"The letter?" said Deaves in a panic, "what letter? I don't understand you."

"We came to tell him," said Evan. "We've either got to tell him or go."

Deaves wiped his face. "Mr. Ha.s.sell, I hope I can rely on your discretion. You will receive what I am about to tell you in absolute confidence?"

"My dear sir," returned the painter a little testily, "you come to me in this state of agitation about I don't know what. Whatever it is, I hope I will comport myself like a man of honour!"

George Deaves handed over the letter in a hand that trembled.

Ha.s.sell's face was a study as he read it.

"This is blackmail!" he cried. "And in my name!"

"That's why we came to you," said Deaves--a little unnecessarily it might be thought.

"You surely don't suspect----"

"Certainly not," said Evan quickly--there was no knowing what break Deaves might have made. "But you can help us."

"Of course! This letter names eleven o'clock as the hour." Ha.s.sell glanced at his watch. "It's nearly twelve now. Why didn't you come to me earlier--or phone?"

"Well, I didn't know--it didn't occur to me," began Deaves, and stopped with an appealing glance at Evan.

Evan said bluntly: "Mr. Deaves was not acquainted with your name and your work until I told him."

The great painter looked a little astonished at such ignorance. "Has the money been sent to the club?" he asked.

Deaves nodded shamefacedly.

Mr. Ha.s.sell immediately got busy. "I'll taxi down there at once. I rarely use the Barbizon club nowadays. Haven't been there in a month."

"Shall we go with you?" asked Delves.

"No. They may have spies posted who would see you even if you remained in the cab. If you'll be good enough to wait here, I'll be back inside half an hour."

Even in his bustle he did not neglect business. As soon as he had gone the servant appeared again, and began to show his pictures. Deaves goggled at them indifferently, but Evan was keenly interested. He studied them with the mixture of scorn and envy that is characteristic of the att.i.tude of poor young artists towards rich old ones.

Within a few minutes of his half hour Ha.s.sell was back again. "Not much to report," he said deprecatingly. "The envelope addressed to me was delivered just before eleven o'clock, and put in the H box of the letter rack. It was gone when I looked, of course, but who took it remains to be discovered. About thirty members had gone in and out.

Practically everybody stops at the letter rack. I have a list of those who pa.s.sed in and out as well as the doorkeeper could make it out from memory."

"How about the door-keeper?" asked Deaves.

"Above suspicion, I should say. Has been with the club for twenty years. A simple soul hardly capable of acting a part. He would hardly have told me that he put my letter in the rack himself."

"Other servants then?"

"There were several boys on duty in the hall, but they are not supposed to go to the letter-rack without orders. If one of them had looked over the letters it could scarcely have escaped notice. No, unpleasant as it is to think so, I am afraid it was one of the members--someone who was counting on the fact that I never appear at the club except for an important meeting or a dinner. I looked over the members in the clubhouse, honest-looking men--but who can tell?"

"No doubt the one who got the money left immediately," suggested Evan.

Ha.s.sell said to Deaves: "With your permission I should like to take the matter up with the Board of Governors."

"No, no, if you please," said Deaves nervously. "No publicity."

"Then allow me to put this list in the hands of a first-cla.s.s detective agency. Those fellows are secret enough."

"Let me attend to it if you please."

Ha.s.sell handed over the list with manifest reluctance; "If anyone uses my name again I trust you will let me know promptly."

"You may depend on it," said Deaves, making for the door.

"By the way, how did you like my pictures?"

"Very pretty, very pretty," said Deaves uneasily. "I don't know anything about such things. My wife buys everything for the home."