# The Ringer/Chapter 8

pp. 107–119.

### CHAPTER VIII

SAM had been in his room a few minutes, making preparation for his departure that afternoon, when the old woman came in.
"There's a man wants to see the governor. You'd better see him first, Haggitt," she said.
Mr. Haggitt looked round loftily.
"What is he—a client or a policeman?"
He went out into the flagged hall. Standing in the doorway was a man above middle height, with a good-looking if somewhat dour face. He was dressed plainly, even shabbily, but carried himself with an air of distinction, so that the poverty of his clothing was not noticeable. Haggitt looked at him open-eyed and gasped.
"Good morning, Haggitt," said the stranger, and in another minute Sam Haggitt had gripped him by the hand.
"Well, if this doesn't beat the band!" he said. "What's happened to you, Johnny? Did you jump it?"
John Lenley smiled crookedly.
"No, I came out through the door," he said. "Is the old man about?"
"He's upstairs. Here, don't go up yet. He's been down for a minute to get his morning ration, but he's in his room now, shaving. How long have you been out?"
"I came out yesterday afternoon," said Lenley, "quite unexpectedly. I didn't get to town until late last night."
"Where were you—on the Moor?"
Johnny nodded.
"Over the Alps, eh?" said Haggitt thoughtfully, and then, with a sort of admiration: "You look well! Dartmoor must be a blooming holiday!"
"You can have my next one, Haggitt," he said, and as the speaker's eyes surveyed Mr. Meister's servitor, taking in the green apron and the rolled shirt-sleeves: "I didn't know you were a friend of his?"
"A friend of Meister's? Of that kind of person? Why, when Meister goes past the Zoo, all the snakes get up and touch their hats to him! A friend! I'd sooner be a friend of the police."
"Then what are you doing working here?"
Johnny Lenley eyed his dubious acquaintance keenly.
"Who doesn't work for Meister? There's no harm in that," asserted Haggitt stoutly. "Why, your——"
And then a thought occurred to him.
"Do you know who else is working here?"
Lenley frowned.
"No, I know very few of your gang. I didn't have time to get acquainted before I was caught." He laughed hardly: he was inclined to be a little sorry for himself.
Haggitt scratched his chin.
"All right," he said after a pause. "You'd better come up."
The two had hardly entered the room before Mary came in. She did not even glance at the men, thinking they were one of the many clients who came to Meister during the day. It was only when she heard the exclamation of amazement that she turned round, and in another second she was in her brother's arms, laughing and crying.
"Johnny! Oh, Johnny! Why didn't you tell me you were coming back! This is a wonderful surprise! Why, I only wrote you this morning...."
He put her away at arm's length and looked into her face.
"Mary, what are you doing in Meister's office?" he asked quietly, and something in his tone chilled her.
"I'm working for him," she said. "I've been here nearly a year. I didn't want you to know that I was working at all, Johnny." And then her hand went up to his face. "It's wonderful to see you—wonderful! Let me look at you. You poor boy, have you had a bad time?"
To the watchful and interested Mr. Haggitt, with whom sentiment was a weak point, this seemed an unnecessary question.
"Not so bad as it might have been," said Johnny carelessly. Then: "Why did you go to work at all? I left money with Meister sufficient to keep you going until now."
Haggitt clicked his lips impatiently.
"Left money with Meister? You're mad!"
But Lenley did not hear.
"Did he stop the allowance?" he asked, his anger rising at the thought.
"No, Johnny, he didn't ... it came to an end. Then he gave me this work: he thought it would occupy my mind, and I'm awfully grateful to him." The brother nodded.
"I see," he said.
"You're not angry with me, are you, Johnny?" She raised her tearful eyes to his. "I can't believe it is you. Why, I didn't expect you home for an awful long time."
"My sentence was remitted," said Lenley. "A half-lunatic convict attacked a guard, and I saved him from a mauling. I had no idea that the authorities would do more than strike off a few days from my sentence. Yesterday at dinner time the governor sent for me and told me that I was to be released on licence."
Again Mr. Haggitt registered despair. Johnny Lenley's actions had never been as professional as he could have desired them, and here he was admitting without shame that he had saved the life of a warder!
The girl's hands were on her brother's shoulders, her grave eyes searching his face.
"You've finished with that dreadful life, haven't you?" she asked in a low voice. "We're going somewhere out of London to live. I spoke to Mr. Meister about it. He said he'd help you to go straight. Johnny, you wouldn't have had that terrible sentence if you had only followed his advice and told the police where the jewellery was hidden."
John Lenley bit his lip.
"Meister told you that, did he?" he asked slowly. "Do you like him?"
She did not answer.
"Do you like him?"
"He has been kind." She struggled hard to think of some favourable quality of Meister. "He gave me this work, Johnny, and you know how hard work is to get—you see"—she hesitated—"people know who I am."
"I realize that, dear," he nodded, "but how has he been kind?" And then, seeing her distress, he gripped her shoulders and shook her gently, and the hard face softened, and into the gray, deep-set eyes came the old mother look she had loved in him. "Anyway, you'll work no more."
"Then I must work at once." She laughed, but there was a catch in her throat. "And you must be very patient ... if you want to see Mr. Meister he'll be down soon now."
He watched her as she went back to her table, and then caught Haggitt's eye and jerked his head.
"Sam, what's the idea?"
Mr. Haggitt shrugged.
"I've only been here two days. You're a man of the world, Johnny. Ever seen a tiger being kind to a skinned rabbit? I don't know anything more than that."
Lenley nodded.
"Is that so?" he said.
He had come straight to the lawyer's to liquidate old debts and make an end of an unprofitable association. And then London and the stink and grime of Flanders Lane would know him no more: he would find fields where he could work without the supervision of an overarmed guard, and with the knowledge that peace and comfort lay at his day's end. He stood by the door, talkingto Sam, questioning him, never doubting where Meister's "kindness" would ultimately end. And then the lawyer came into the room. His eyes were all for the girl—her nimble fingers flashing amongst the keys. He went round to her and dropped his big hands on her shoulders.
"Ah, there she is, typing her little fingers away! You mustn't work too hard, my dear. I don't like to see it."
"Meister!"
The lawyer spun round, his colour coming and going.
"You!" he croaked. "Out!... I thought——"
Johnny Lenley smiled contemptuously.
"About four years too soon, eh? I'm sorry to disappoint you, but miracles happen, even on Dartmoor—and I'm one."
With a tremendous effort the lawyer recovered his balance and was his old genial self.
"My dear fellow"—he offered a wavering hand, but Lenley apparently did not see it—"sit down, won't you? What an amazing thing to happen! Haggitt, give Mr. Lenley a cigar ... you'll find one in the cupboard ... well, this is a sight for sore eyes!"
Haggitt offered the box, but the other shook his head.
"I'm not smoking," he said.
"Pity," said Mr. Haggitt, and, carrying the box back to the cupboard, openly helped himself to a handful under the outraged eyes of his master.
"So you want to see me, eh? Not in trouble again?" He turned jocosely to Mary. "They know where to come when they're in trouble, the rascals—they trust the poor man's lawyer. Now what is it? I suppose you've something to tell me that you don't want your sister to hear?" he said with a laugh that was an invitation, and after a second Lenley said:
"Yes."
Mary rose hastily.
"Yes, one or two things—just one or two!"
The girl's eyes had hardly left her brother, and now she came to him and took both his hands in hers.
"Johnny, before you speak to Mr. Meister, will you promise me something—that you will go to the police and tell them where the property is hidden—so that this business is wiped clean and we can really make a new start?"
The request almost took his breath away.
"I—promise? Where the property is hidden?" And then, with a half-smile: "I'll talk to you about that later."
He waited until she was out of the room.
"How did you get your ticket?" asked Meister, helping himself to the ever handy bottle.
"The remainder of my sentence was wiped out," said Lenley curtly. "I thought I'd told you that."
The lawyer frowned.
"Oh! Were you the lag who saved the life of a warder? I remember reading about it—brave boy!"
He was trying to get command of the situation. Other men had come blustering into that office, and had poured a torrent of threats over the table, leaving him unmoved.
"Why did you stop my sister's allowance?"
Meister shrugged.
"Because, my dear fellow, I can't afford to be charitable," he said blandly.
"I left you the greater part of four hundred pounds." Lenley's voice was stern and uncompromising.
"You were well defended, weren't you? The best attorney that money could buy? Do you think he worked for the love of it, or that he was one of those poor simpletons who was so convinced of your innocence that he refused a fee?"
"I know the fee," said Lenley quietly. "When you had paid that, there was still the greater part of four hundred left. Why did you stop her allowance?"
The lawyer sat down again in the chair he had vacated, lit a cigar, and did not speak until he saw the match almost burning his finger-tips.
"Well, I'll tell you. I got worried about her. I like you, Johnny; I've always been interested in you and your family. And it struck me that a young girl living alone, with no work to do, wasn't exactly having a fair chance. I thought it would be kinder to you and better for her to give her some sort of employment—keep her mind occupied, you understand, old man? I take a fatherly interest in the kid."
He met the challenging eyes and his own fell before them.
"Keep your fatherly paws to yourself when you're talking to her, will you, Meister?"
The words rang like steel on steel.
"My dear fellow!" protested the other.
"And listen!" Lenley went on. "I know you pretty well, Meister; I've known you for a long time, both by reputation and through personal acquaintance. I know just how much there is in that fatherly interest stuff. If there has been any monkey business, I'll take that nine o'clock walk for you!"
Meister jerked up his head.
"Eh?" he rasped.
"From the cell to the gallows," Lenley went on. "And I'll toe the trap with a good heart. You don't misunderstand me?"
The stout man got up on his trembling legs, breathing heavily.
"Don't try to bully me! Other men have tried it, and where are they now? Where is Bill Palmer? Where is Lew Morley, who was going to do this and that to me? Where is the Ringer—"
"In London," snapped the other, and Meister reeled back.
"That's a lie!" he breathed.
"Here in London!" Lenley's fist came down on the table. "Meister, you know it—I can see the proof in your face!"
Frozen with horror, the lawyer could only lick his lips, the white lips that moved without sound.
"It's a lie," he said at last in a strangled voice. "The Ringer is in Australia—he wouldn't dare show his face in London! What with thirteen years waiting for him, and that's not all—they want him for murder, for the Big Thing. Is he coming back to put his head in the rope you're talking about, eh? Is he mad? The Ringer's too clever...."
"He's here!" Lenley was leaning over the table, his keen face outthrust towards the lawyer. "You know that he's here, but you're trying to deceive yourself into believing that he isn't. Here! How near to you, God knows. He may be at your elbow, and you wouldn't know. You remember him: he could alter his appearance so that you wouldn't know him if you saw him...."
On the other side of the mystery door a man crouched, with his ear against the panel: a thin man, whose emaciated face was pink with silent laughter. Fear amused the gaunt man—he who had never known fear; who had taken graver risks, more terrifying than any of his kind.
"Meister, change your plans!"
The warning ring in John Lenley's voice was unmistakable.
"Change your plans about Mary—or I'll get you before the Ringer."
"You're crazy!" gasped Meister. "What have I to be afraid of? Didn't I look after him—didn't I defend him in the police court, and brief the best attorney at the Old Bailey? Was it my fault he forged letters of credit, eh? He played me dirty, double-crossed me."
"You shopped him!" said Lenley.
"You're a damned liar!" screamed the man.
"He told me in Dartmoor," John Lenley went on relentlessly. "I know the whole story. You put up the money for the swindles, and were standing in fifty-fifty. After the first few coups he was nearly caught. You got cold feet and passed word to the police. They took him in the Standard Bank—he'll get you, Meister!"
Meister, white and trembling, could only shake his head.