The Greatest Works of Fergus Hume - 22 Mystery Novels in One Edition. Fergus Hume

braw sort o’ freend,’ muttered Archie, as he followed.

      ‘Quite good enough for him,’ retorted Dr Gollipeck, who overheard him.

      Archie looked at him approvingly, nodded his head, and went out after the Frenchman, but Madame, being a woman and curious, asked the doctor what he meant.

      His reply was peculiar.

      ‘Our friend,’ he said, putting his handkerchief in his pocket and seizing his greasy old hat, ‘our friend believes in the greatest number.’

      ‘And what is the greatest number?’ asked Madame, innocently.

      ‘Number one,’ retorted the Doctor, and took his leave abruptly, leaving two buttons and several pins on the floor as traces of his visit.

Chapter XVII.

       The Best of Friends Must Part

       Table of Contents

      Union is strength, and if Dr Gollipeck had only met Slivers and revealed his true opinion of Vandeloup to him, no doubt that clever young man would have found himself somewhat embarrassed, as a great deal of a man’s past history can be found out by the simple plan of putting two and two together. Fortunately, however, for Gaston, these two gentlemen never met, and Gollipeck came to the conclusion that he could see nothing to blame in Vandeloup’s conduct, though he certainly mistrusted him, and determined mentally to keep an eye on his movements. What led him to be suspicious was the curious resemblance the appearance of this young man had to that of a criminal described in the ‘Les Empoisonneurs d’Aujourd’hui’ as having been transported to New Caledonia for the crime of poisoning his mistress. Everything, however, was vague and uncertain; so Dr Gollipeck, when he arrived home, came to the above-named conclusion that he would watch Vandeloup, and then, dismissing him from his mind, went to work on his favourite subject.

      Meanwhile, M. Vandeloup slept the sleep of the just, and next morning, after making his inquiries after the health of Madame Midas—a thing he never neglected to do—he went into Ballarat in search of Pierre. On arriving at the Wattle Tree Hotel he was received by Miss Twexby in dignified silence, for that astute damsel was beginning to regard the fascinating Frenchman as a young man who talked a great deal and meant nothing.

      He was audacious enough to win her virgin heart and then break it, so Miss Twexby thought the wisest thing would be to keep him at a distance. So Vandeloup’s bright smiles and merry jokes failed to call forth any response from the fair Martha, who sat silently in the bar, looking like a crabbed sphinx.

      ‘Is my friend Pierre in?’ asked Vandeloup, leaning across the counter, and looking lovingly at Miss Twexby.

      That lady intimated coldly that he was in, and had been for the last two weeks; also that she was sick of him, and she’d thank M. Vandeloup to clear him out—all of which amused Vandeloup mightily, though he still continued to smile coolly on the sour-faced damsel before him.

      ‘Would you mind going and telling him I want to see him?’ he asked, lounging to the door.

      ‘Me!’ shrieked Martha, in a shrill voice, shooting up from behind the counter like an infuriated jack-in-the-box. ‘No, I shan’t. Why, the last time I saw him he nearly cut me like a ham sandwich with that knife of his. I am not,’ pursued Miss Twexby, furiously, ‘a loaf of bread to be cut, neither am I a pin-cushion to have things stuck into me; so if you want to be a corpse, you’d better go up yourself.’

      ‘I hardly think he’ll touch me,’ replied Vandeloup, coolly, going towards the door which led to Pierre’s bedroom. ‘You’ve had a lot of trouble with him, I’m afraid; but he’s going down to Melbourne tonight, so it will be all right.’

      ‘And the bill?’ queried Miss Twexby, anxiously.

      ‘I will pay it,’ said Vandeloup, at which she was going to say he was very generous, but suppressed the compliment when he added, ‘out of his own money.’

      Gaston, however, failed to persuade Pierre to accompany him round to buy an outfit. For the dumb man lay on his bed, and obstinately refused to move out of the room. He, however, acquiesced sullenly when his friend told him he was going to Melbourne, so Vandeloup left the room, having first secured Pierre’s knife, and locked the door after him. He gave the knife to Miss Twexby, with injunctions to her to keep it safe, then sallied forth to buy his shipwrecked friend a box and some clothes.

      He spent about ten pounds in buying an outfit for the dumb man, hired a cab to call at the ‘Wattle Tree’ Hotel at seven o’clock to take the box and its owner to the station. And then feeling he had done his duty and deserved some recompense, he had a nice little luncheon and a small bottle of wine for which he paid out of Pierre’s money. When he finished he bought a choice cigar, had a glass of Chartreuse, and after resting in the commercial room for a time he went out for a walk, intending to call on Slivers and Dr Gollipeck, and in fact do anything to kill time until it would be necessary for him to go to Pierre and take him to the railway station.

      He walked slowly up Sturt Street, and as the afternoon was so warm, thought he would go up to Lake Wendouree, which is at the top of the town, and see if it was any cooler by the water. The day was oppressively hot, but not with the bright, cheery warmth of a summer’s day, for the sun was hidden behind great masses of angry-looking clouds, and it seemed as if a thunderstorm would soon break over the city. Even Vandeloup, full of life and animation as he was, felt weighed down by the heaviness of the atmosphere, and feeling quite exhausted when he arrived at the lake, he was glad enough to sit down on one of the seats for a rest.

      The lake under the black sky was a dull leaden hue, and as there was no wind the water was perfectly still. Even the trees all round it were motionless, as there came no breeze to stir their leaves, and the only sounds that could be heard were the dull croaking of the frogs amid the water grasses, and the shrill cries of children playing on the green turf. Every now and then a steamer would skim across the surface of the water in an airy manner, looking more like a child’s clockwork toy than anything else, and Vandeloup, when he saw one of these arrive at the little pier, almost expected to see a man put in a huge key to the paddle wheels and wind it up again.

      On one of the seats Vandeloup espied a little figure in white, and seeing that it was Kitty, he strolled up to her in a leisurely manner. She was looking at the ground when he came up, and was prodding holes in the spongy turf with her umbrella, but glanced up carelessly as he came near. Then she sprang up with a cry of joy, and throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him twice.

      ‘I haven’t seen you for ages,’ said Kitty, putting her arm in his as they sat down. ‘I just came up here for a week, and did not think I’d see you.’

      ‘The meeting was quite accidental, I know,’ replied Gaston, leaning back lazily; ‘but none the less pleasant on that account.’

      ‘Oh, no,’ said Kitty, gravely shaking her head; ‘unexpected meetings are always pleasanter than those arranged, for there’s never any disappointment about them.’

      ‘Oh, that’s your experience, is it?’ answered her lover, with an amused smile, pulling out his cigarette case. ‘Well, suppose you reward me for my accidental presence here, and light a cigarette for me.’

      Kitty was of course delighted, and took the case while M. Vandeloup leaned back in the seat, his hands behind his head, and stared reflectively at the leaden-coloured sky. Kitty took out a cigarette from the case, placed it between her pretty lips, and having obtained a match from one of her lover’s pockets, proceeded to light it, which was not done without a great deal of choking and pretty confusion. At length she managed it, and bending over Gaston, placed it in his mouth, and gave him a kiss at the same time.

      ‘If pa knew I did this, he’d expire with horror,’ she said, sagely nodding her head.

      ‘Wouldn’t be much loss if he did,’ replied Vandeloup, lazily,