Mr. Lewin toyed with the black silk cord of his pince-nez, and the barrister’s next remark startled him.
‘Why have you not taken this letter to Scotland Yard?’ he demanded sharply.
Though Lewin was nonplussed, he recovered in a moment.
‘As I’ve just said, I came to you as a friendly act towards a member of my own profession. But if it’s your wish that I communicate with Scotland Yard I shall certainly do so at once.’
Mr. Lewin rose to his feet. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you, Sir Richard, and I wish you good-night.’
He had reached the door before Templeton spoke:
‘One moment, Mr. Lewin!’
Carlo Lewin paused and looked over his shoulder.
‘Perhaps it might be as well,’ added Sir Richard Templeton, ‘if we talked this matter over first.’
Behind the polished pince-nez there was a strange glint in Carlo Lewin’s eyes as he turned round. ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘it might be as well.’ He seated himself carefully in the chair he had just vacated.
‘I’d like to know a little more about this letter, Mr. Lewin. How did it come into your possession?’
Lewin pulled himself together. He had seen too many perjuring witnesses collapse under Templeton’s piercing cross-examination to welcome a similar ordeal; but he had not come unprepared.
His small, colourless eyes met the barrister’s firmly. ‘The letter came into my hands by chance. It was unsigned. The envelope had already been destroyed, so I don’t even know the person to whom it had been addressed.’
‘You’ve brought it with you?’ inquired Templeton.
Lewin shook his head. ‘It’s at my office.’
‘And it came into your hands by chance?’ murmured Templeton.
‘That is what I said,’ replied Lewin coldly.
‘Have you any means of tracing the name of the person who wrote it, Mr. Lewin?’
‘None.’
‘Then,’ said Templeton challengingly, ‘the letter is of no value whatever?’
‘It is of no value to Scotland Yard,’ said Lewin quickly.
Sir Richard Templeton looked puzzled. ‘Perhaps you’ll explain!’
Again Carlo Lewin drew his chair nearer. ‘I have just told you, Sir Richard, that I’ve got no means of tracing the person who wrote it. That is true. I have none. But I think I know a man who can do so.’
Templeton regarded the solicitor with renewed interest, but Lewin forestalled his question.
‘He is one of my clients, Sir Richard. I have a fairly large criminal practice in South London, and I feel reasonably confident that if you’d like me to act for you I can put machinery in motion that will enable me to recover the documents.’
Templeton was biting his lips. ‘Do you suggest, Mr. Lewin, that you can succeed where Scotland Yard will fail?’
‘That is my belief,’ said Carlo Lewin decisively. ‘But I’ll be frank with you, Sir Richard. It’ll mean my employing a man whose past record can hardly be called clean. You follow me? There are very strong reasons at the moment why he’s anxious to do me a favour, and I think he’ll succeed in this. I may add there are also good reasons why this man will certainly not come forward to help Scotland Yard. But I must say no more on that point.’ Mr. Lewin leaned back in his chair. ‘The matter is one for you to decide, Sir Richard. If you want me to pass this letter to Scotland Yard, I shall gladly do so, and be relieved of further responsibility. On the other hand, you may prefer me to act for you. Since the documents are of such personal importance to yourself——’
Sir Richard Templeton sat upright with a jerk.
‘To myself!’ he exclaimed. ‘These documents of personal importance to myself? Why do you say this?’
‘I’m sorry,’ muttered Lewin. ‘I have no definite reason for saying so——’
Sir Richard Templeton was silent, but presently he leaned forward.
‘I want to ask you this question, Mr. Lewin. Do you know anything whatever about the contents of these papers?’
‘Nothing!’ Carlo Lewin’s denial was emphatic. ‘But I perceive from your manner, Sir Richard, that they’re of considerable value to you.’
Templeton’s fingers were tapping slowly on the glass top of his desk.
‘If it’s to be Scotland Yard,’ said Lewin—and there was the shadow of a smile at the corners of his lips—‘please say the word!’
The barrister stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Supposing you put the matter into the hands of this man—this client of yours—I presume he’ll expect payment for his trouble?’
‘The rather sordid question of money will have to be considered,’ replied Lewin. ‘But let me say this. My client will be easily satisfied. It happens that he’s not in a position to dictate his own terms for any favour he may do me. But the actual recovery of the documents—that is another matter. It may require a certain sum of money.’ Carlo Lewin paused for a second. ‘Possibly a rather large sum, Sir Richard.’
‘Ah! You think the documents may be for sale?’
‘That, I imagine, will be the position,’ said Lewin thoughtfully.
Templeton frowned. ‘And a distinctly uncomfortable position! One with a slight suspicion of blackmail about it, I fancy, Mr. Lewin!’
At the ugly word Carlo Lewin winced. ‘But surely, Sir Richard, it is not unusual to offer a reward for a stolen article?’
‘It depends on the article,’ returned Templeton grimly.
The faint shadow of a smile had passed across Lewin’s sallow face. ‘But of course if the documents are of such a nature that they might be used for blackmail——’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘However, I know nothing about that. You yourself will be able to judge.’
Sir Richard Templeton’s face had gone a trifle paler. ‘How soon do you think you can recover these documents, Mr. Lewin?’
‘No time will be lost,’ Lewin promised. ‘If you ask me to go ahead, I shall set the machinery in motion to-night. I make only one condition, Sir Richard.’
‘Yes.’
‘My name must not be mentioned. I am on very good terms with the police, and I want nothing to disturb these pleasant relations. My methods of recovering the documents for you might not, be considered—well, quite orthodox at Scotland Yard.’ He rose to his feet. ‘But I think I can trust you, Sir Richard, to look after my interests in that quarter.’
Templeton smoothed back his grey hair, and his face looked haggard and anxious.
‘Give me an hour to think this over, Mr. Lewin. Where can I find you?’
Lewin pointed to the card that lay on the blotting-pad. ‘My office address is there. I have some rather urgent matters to attend to, so I expect to be there until nearly midnight.’
‘I shall telephone you in about an hour’s time,’ said Sir Richard Templeton, opening the door for his visitor.
Mr. Lewin did not go straight to his office. After crossing Tower Bridge he made his way through the dark, narrow streets near the river. He eventually arrived at the side door of ‘The Green Lantern,’ where his interview with Tom Young was brief, and at half-past eleven o’clock he reached his office at Rotherhithe.
The entrance was between two dismal-looking shops with drawn blinds. Carlo Lewin went quickly up the stairs past the doors of other offices which had been dark and deserted for several hours. Lewin occupied the top floor; and switching on the light in the passage, he entered his own room, a wide low-ceilinged place, dusty and ill-kept, with a pile of deed-boxes in the corner and a row of shelves crammed with musty papers in untidy bundles.
He sat down at the huge roll-top desk, which dwarfed his thin black-coated figure, and began to write in a small spidery hand. Every now and then he glanced at the clock on the wall; and as the minutes passed a look of concern crept into his pale eyes. At last he got to his feet and began to pace restlessly up and down the room. At a fall of ashes in the grate he swung round with a start, and continued his endless pacing across the worn linoleum on the floor.