He beamed kindly on my bewilderment during the space of time it takes to select a cigarette and light a match. Then, blowing a contented puff of smoke, he crossed his legs and leaned back.
‘When I told you I was a Pinkerton’s man, sonny,’ he said, ‘I missed the cold truth by about a mile. But you caught me shooting off guns in the grounds, and it was up to me to say something.’
He blew a smoke-ring and watched it dreamily till it melted in the draught from the ventilator.
‘I’m Smooth Sam Fisher,’ he said.
II
When two emotions clash, the weaker goes to the wall. Any surprise I might have felt was swallowed up in my relief. If I had been at liberty to be astonished, my companion’s information would no doubt have astonished me. But I was not. I was so relieved that he was not a Pinkerton’s man that I did not really care what else he might be.
‘It’s always been a habit of mine, in these little matters,’ he went on, ‘to let other folks do the rough work, and chip in myself when they’ve cleared the way. It saves trouble and expense. I don’t travel with a gang, like that bone-headed Buck. What’s the use of a gang? They only get tumbling over each other and spoiling everything. Look at Buck! Where is he? Down and out. While I–‘
He smiled complacently. His manner annoyed me. I objected to being looked upon as a humble cat’s paw by this bland scoundrel.
‘While you–what?’ I said.
He looked at me in mild surprise.
‘Why, I come in with you, sonny, and take my share like a gentleman.’
‘Do you!’
‘Well, don’t I?’
He looked at me in the half-reproachful half-affectionate manner of the kind old uncle who reasons with a headstrong nephew.
‘Young man,’ he said, ‘you surely aren’t thinking you can put one over on me in this business? Tell me, you don’t take me for that sort of ivory-skulled boob? Do you imagine for one instant, sonny, that I’m not next to every move in this game? Are you deluding yourself with the idea that this thing isn’t a perfect cinch for me? Let’s hear what’s troubling you. You seem to have gotten some foolish ideas in your head. Let’s talk it over quietly.’
‘If you have no objection,’ I said, ‘no. I don’t want to talk to you, Mr Fisher. I don’t like you, and I don’t like your way of earning your living. Buck MacGinnis was bad enough, but at least he was a straightforward tough. There’s no excuse for you.’
‘Surely we are unusually righteous this p.m., are we not?’ said Sam suavely.
I did not answer.
‘Is this not mere professional jealousy?’
This was too much for me.
‘Do you imagine for a moment that I’m doing this for money?’
‘I did have that impression. Was I wrong? Do you kidnap the sons of millionaires for your health?’
‘I promised that I would get this boy back to his mother. That is why I gave him the money to go to London. And that is why my valet was to have taken him to–to where Mrs Ford is.’
He did not reply in words, but if ever eyebrows spoke, his said, ‘My dear sir, really!’ I could not remain silent under their patent disbelief.
‘That’s the simple truth,’ I said.
He shrugged his shoulders, as who would say, ‘Have it your own way. Let us change the subject.’
‘You say “was to have taken”. Have you changed your plans?’
‘Yes, I’m going to take the boy back to the school.’
He laughed–a rich, rolling laugh. His double chin shook comfortably.
‘It won’t do,’ he said, shaking his head with humorous reproach. ‘It won’t do.’
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘Frankly, I do not.’
‘Very well,’ I said, and began to read my book.
‘If you want to give me the slip,’ he chuckled, ‘you must do better than that. I can see you bringing the Nugget back to the school.’
‘You will, if you wait,’ I said.
‘I wonder what that address was that you gave him,’ he mused. ‘Well, I shall soon know.’