The Greatest Thrillers of Fergus Hume. Fergus Hume

The stranger witness looked stolidly on.

      "No!" cried Hagar, slipping the will into her pocket. "You shall not disinherit your son for me!"

      "Give--give--will!" panted Jacob, and, almost inarticulate with rage, he stretched out his hand. Before he could draw it back he reeled and fell; a torrent of blood poured from his mouth. He was dead.

      "You fool!" shrieked Vark, stamping. "You've lost a fortune!"

      "I've saved my honesty!" retorted Hagar, aghast at the sudden death. "Jimmy shall have the money."

      "Jimmy! Jimmy!" sneered Vark, wrathfully. "Do you know who Jimmy is?"

      "Yes--the rightful heir!"

      "Quite so, you jade--and the red-haired Goliath who drove you to this pawn-shop!"

      "It is a lie!"

      "It is the truth! You have robbed yourself to enrich your enemy!"

      Hagar looked at the sneering face of Vark; at the dead man lying at her feet; at the frightened countenance of the witness. She felt inclined to faint, but, afraid lest Vark should steal the will which she had in her pocket, she controlled herself with a violent effort. Before Vark could stop her, she rushed out of the room, and into her bedroom. The lawyer heard the key turn in the lock.

      "I've lost the game," he said, moodily. "Go and get assistance, you fool!" this to the witness; then, when the man had fled away, he continued: "To give up all that money to the red-haired man whom she hated! The girl's mad!"

      But she was only honest; therefore her conduct was unintelligible to Vark. So this was how Hagar Stanley came to take charge of the pawn-shop in Carby's Crescent, Lambeth. Her adventures therein may be read hereafter.

      Chapter II.

       The First Customer and the Florentine Dante

       Table of Contents

      It has been explained otherwhere how Hagar Stanley, against her own interests, took charge of the pawn-shop and property of Jacob Dix during the absence of the rightful heir. She had full control of everything by the terms of the will. Jacob had made many good bargains in his life, but none better than that which had brought him Hagar for a slave--Hagar, with her strict sense of duty, her upright nature, and her determination to act honestly, even when her own interests were at stake. Such a character was almost unknown amongst the denizens of Carby's Crescent.

      Vark, the lawyer, thought her a fool. Firstly, because she refused to make a nest-egg for herself out of the estate; secondly, because she had surrendered a fine fortune to benefit a man she hated; thirdly, because she declined to become Mrs. Vark. Otherwise she was sharp enough--too sharp, the lawyer thought; for with her keen business instinct, and her faculty for organizing and administering and understanding, he found it impossible to trick her in any way. Out of the Dix estate Vark received his due fees and no more, which position was humiliating to a man of his intelligence.

      Hagar, however, minded neither Vark nor any one else. She advertised for the absent heir, she administered the estate, and carried on the business of the pawn-shop; living in the back-parlor meanwhile, after the penurious fashion of her late master. It had been a shock to her to learn that the heir of the old pawnbroker w as none other than Goliath, the red-haired suitor who had forced her to leave the gipsy camp. Still, her honesty would not permit her to rob him of his heritage; and she attended to his interests as though they were those of the man she loved best in the world. When Jimmy Dix, alias Goliath, appeared to claim the property, Hagar intended to deliver up all to him, and to leave the shop as poor as when she entered it. In the mean time, as the months went by and brought not the claimant, Hagar minded the shop, transacted business, and drove bargains. Also, she became the heroine of several adventures, such as the following:

      During a June twilight she was summoned to the shop by a sharp rapping, and on entering she found a young man waiting to pawn a book which he held in his hand. He was tall, slim fair-haired and blue-eyed, with a clever and intellectual face, lighted by rasher dreamy eyes. Quick at reading physiognomies, Hagar liked his appearance at the first glance, and, moreover, admired his good looks.

      "I--I wish to get some money on this book," said the stranger in a hesitating manner, a flush invading his fair complexion; "could you---that is, will you---" He paused in confusion, and held out the book, which Hagar took in silence.

      It was an old and costly book, over which a bibliomaniac would have gloated.

      The date was that of the fourteenth century the printer a famous Florentine publisher of that epoch; and the author was none other than one Dante Alighieri, a poet not unknown to fame. In short, the volume was a second edition of "La Divina Commedia," extremely rare, and worth much money. Hagar, who had learnt many things under the able tuition of Jacob, at once recognized the value of the book; but with keen business instinct--notwithstanding her prepossession concerning the young man---she began promptly to disparage it.

      "I don't care for old books," she said, offering it back to him. "Why not take it to a secondhand bookseller?"

      "Because I don't want to part with it. At the present moment I need money, as you can see from my appearance. Let me have five pounds on the book until I can redeem it."

      Hagar, who already had noted the haggard looks of this customer, and the threadbare quality of his apparel, laid down the Dante with a bang. "I can't give five pounds," she said bluntly. "The book isn't worth it!"

      "Shows how much you know of such things, my girl! It is a rare edition of a celebrated Italian poet, and it is worth over a hundred pounds."

      "Really?" said Hagar, dryly. "In that case, why not sell?"

      "Because I don't want to. Give me five pounds."

      "No; four is all that I can advance."

      "Four ten," pleaded the customer.

      "Four," retorted the inexorable Hagar. "Or else---"

      She pushed the book towards him with one finger. Seeing that he could get nothing more out of her, the young man sighed and relented. "Give me the four pounds," he said, gloomily. "I might have guessed that a Jewess would grind me down to the lowest."

      "I am not a Jew, but a gipsy," replied Hagar, making out the ticket.

      "A gipsy!" said the other, peering into her face. "And what is a Romany lass doing in this Levitical tabernacle?"

      "That's my business!" retorted Hagar, curtly. "Name and address?"

      "Eustace Lorn, 4: Castle Road," said the young man, giving an address near at hand. "But I say--if you are true Romany, you can talk the calo jib."

      "I talk it with my kind, young man; not with the Gentiles."

      "But I am a Romany Rye."

      "I'm not a fool, young man! Romany Ryes don't live in cities for choice."

      "Nor do gipsy girls dwell in pawn-shops, my lass!"

      "Four pounds," said Hagar, taking no notice of this remark; "there it is, in gold; your ticket also--number eight hundred and twenty. You can redeem the book whenever you like, on paying six per cent. interest. Good night."

      "But I say'" cried Lorn, as he slipped money and ticket into his pocket, "I want to speak to you, and---"

      "Good night, sir," said Hagar, sharply, and vanished into the darkness of the shop. Lorn was annoyed by her curt manner and his sudden dismissal; but as there was no help for it, he walked out into the street.

      "What a handsome girl!" was his first thought; and "What a spitfire!" was his second.

      After his departure, Hagar put away the Dante, and, as it was late, shut up the shop. Then she retired to the back-parlor to eat her supper--dry bread-and-cheese with cold water--and to think over the young man. As a rule, Hagar was far too self-possessed to be impressionable; but there was something about Eustace Lorn--she had the name