That day passed uneventfully. After lunch Inspector Tripp called upon the barrister, but the interview was short, and it was not until late that night, when Templeton had returned to the house after several hours’ absence, that he received the phone call which he had been half-expecting all day.
‘Mr. Carlo Lewin speaking.’
The barrister glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure his study door was closed.
‘I rang you up earlier in the evening, Sir Richard, but you were out.’
‘Yes; I’ve just come back. Have you any news?’ Templeton’s voice was low and urgent.
‘Very good news, Sir Richard. My client reports progress. I think he has discovered the man who holds the stolen documents. You are still interested?’
The man speaking from the public call-box in London did not see the smile that flashed across the barrister’s face.
‘Interested? Certainly. You have the name of this man?’
‘Ah, no,’ replied Carlo Lewin smoothly. ‘My client has yet to make certain of his ground. You can rely upon us to go carefully, Sir Richard. I shall probably report progress to you again to-morrow morning.’ He paused. ‘By the way, have you seen the London evening papers? They’re full of last night’s affair. So Lord John has succeeded again! A strange coincidence, Sir Richard.’
The barrister was frowning at the mouthpiece of the telephone in front of him. ‘Coincidence? I don’t understand you, Mr. Lewin.’
‘A coincidence—that you should have been there, Sir Richard,’ said Lewin suavely.
‘What do you mean?’ cried Templeton.
The other had rung off, but not before the barrister had caught the sound of quiet laughter at the other end of the wire.
He did not hear from Mr, Lewin during the following morning. In the afternoon he was tempted to ring him up at his office, when he remembered that the day was Sunday, and no other telephone number appeared against Lewin’s name in the London directory.
Templeton’s evening meal was a solitary one, and he returned at once to his study with the intention of working into the night. As nine o’clock was striking, however, there was the sound of wheels on the gravel drive, and a car drew up at the front door. Presently the maid who was taking Sunday evening duty for the butler entered with a card on a salver.
Sir Richard Templeton picked it up. His face did not display the slightest astonishment. The name on the card was ‘Mr. Carlo Lewin’, and he placed it carefully on the desk in front of him. ‘Show Mr. Lewin in here,’ he said.
The slightly stooping figure of Carlo Lewin appeared in the doorway.
‘Sit down, Mr. Lewin.’ Templeton indicated an armchair beside the open fire-place, and going over to the casement windows he closed them and drew the curtains. ‘I understood you to say you would telephone me this morning.’
Carlo Lewin hitched up his trousers at the knee, and settled back in his chair.
‘I have certain things to tell you, Sir Richard, that would be—er—inconvenient to say on the telephone.’
Templeton raised his eyebrows.
‘Not bad news, I hope?’
‘On the contrary.’
‘Ah! Then you’ve brought me the name of the man who stole the documents?’
‘The man who stole them?’ Lewin stroked his narrow chin. ‘I am not concerned with the actual robbery, Sir Richard. I only undertook to find the man who now has them in his possession. A very different matter.’
Templeton shrugged his shoulders. ‘And I trust you’ve been discreet in any action you’ve taken?’
‘Discretion is my middle name,’ said Lewin with a smile.
‘You’ve done nothing that the police might——’ He left the sentence unfinished, and gave the other a searching glance.
Carlo Lewin’s pale-coloured eyes fixed the barrister in a cold stare.
‘We’ve already discussed this point, Sir Richard. When I first told you I had a clue to some documents that had apparently been stolen from you, I offered to hand it over to Scotland Yard and let them carry out their own investigations. Is that not so?’
‘Quite,’ assented Templeton.
‘But, instead, you asked me to take the matter up personally,’ continued Carlo Lewin in a smooth voice. ‘You asked me to keep it out of the hands of the police.’
‘I made no such request!’ returned Templeton quickly. ‘You offered to do so, and I agreed.’
‘I suggest that we waste no time splitting hairs, Sir Richard. I have acted along the lines we discussed, and I’m pleased to report that I have been entirely successful. This morning my client spoke on the telephone with the man who actually has the stolen documents in his possession.’ Carlo Lewin removed his pince-nez and began slowly to polish them with a large white handkerchief.
Sir Richard Templeton stood rigid, his hands grasped behind his back.
‘His name?’ he said quietly.
‘My client is not in a position to disclose that,’ was Carlo Lewin’s reply, and there was a pause.
‘I understand.’ Sir Richard Templeton drew in a long breath. ‘In effect, we are completely at your client’s mercy.’
‘Not completely,’ corrected Mr. Lewin, still slowly polishing his pince-nez. When he looked up, his eyes, without the magnifying lenses, were small and hard, like tiny eyes of a reptile. ‘We still hold the trump-card.’
‘And that is?’ asked the barrister sharply.
‘Money.’ Lewin carefully adjusted his eyeglasses. ‘Money talks, Sir Richard.’
Templeton slowly paced to the distant end of the room and returned again to the fire-place. ‘I thought it would come to that, Mr. Lewin.’
‘Precisely,’ nodded Carlo Lewin, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. ‘I think it has been clear to you from the start that it would come to that. Over the telephone this morning my client discussed terms with the man who holds the documents.’
‘How much?’ demanded the barrister, and there was a perceptible interval before Mr. Lewin replied.
‘Seven thousand pounds.’
Sir Richard Templeton stared down at the thin, sallow face of the man in the arm-chair, then gave a low whistle.
‘It’s preposterous,’ he said, turning away.
For several moments Carlo Lewin did not move; his slightly twisted fingers that lay along the arm of the chair might have been carved out of white stone, and his eyes were fixed on the grey whorls of smoke that rose from the blazing logs on the hearth. ‘I didn’t know the documents were of so little value to you,’ he remarked in a casual tone.
‘Seven thousand pounds! It’s out of the question,’ repeated Templeton firmly. ‘A few hundreds, I thought, would cover this. Perhaps a thousand at the very outside. But seven thousand pounds! The figure’s absurd.’
‘Absurd? I wonder.’ Lewin raised his eyes. ‘My client made a strange remark to me to-day, Sir Richard. It was said to him this morning on the telephone by the man who holds the documents. Perhaps you’d care to hear it? These papers may mean life or death—to somebody! You can judge the truth of it better than I, for you know the contents of the documents.’
‘And you?’ Templeton swung round on him suddenly. ‘Do you know what their contents are?’
Slowly Carlo Lewin rose to his feet. He was head and shoulders shorter than the barrister, and his slight stoop gave him almost the appearance of deformity; but now he straightened up to his full height, and there was an odd smile on his face.
‘I may as well be frank, Sir Richard. This morning my client informed me that they contain the evidence the police have been collecting against Lord John.’