J. S. Fletcher

“ But the truth is that I passed out of one state of consciousness about noon on one day, seated in that snug room in Contango Chambers in Budge Row, and woke up to another state of equal—perhaps sharper, more alert—consciousness at eight o’clock the next morning in a bedroom of the Royal York Hotel at Brighton.
It was a beautiful, sharp, winter morning; the clear light that flooded my bedroom awoke me. I opened my ——eyes. ...
There are few things in the ordinary way of life that can frighten a man so much as waking suddenly in a strange room wherein he certainly does not expect to find himself. ”

“ For you see, Campenhaye, I never saw Mendoba except when he wore that disguise of grey wig and beard which he discarded in the railway carriage at Charing Cross after he’d blown out Francis Taplin’s brains. Eh?”
“Just so,” I said. “How would you know Mendoba if you saw him?”
“I’d know enough to be certain if I could have him in this room or in his room for two minutes,” he answered. “But now, here’s the point. Somebody’s got to gain access to the Magician. I can’t—neither can you. But—what about Killingley? You told me, Campenhaye, that Killingley is an adept in the art of making up. ”

“ I said. “Give me the ring, and I’ll see this magician chap myself. I, too, am an adept at disguise—I taught Killingley all he knows. I’ll engage that Mendoba doesn’t know me—unless he’s an extraordinarily clever man and a very cute observer. Remember, he scarcely ever saw me at that gambling-hell of his, and, when he did, it was in a half-light.”
Tregarthen hesitated.
“Mendoba is remarkably cute,” he said, “and as to his ability, I reckon he’s one of the most able men I’ve ever had to do with. ”

“ Where the ancient church of Saint Anthony, patron saint of the good grocers of London, once stood in Budge Row, shrining the bones of many estimable citizens who in their time were aldermen and sheriffs of our proud city, there are now certain of those modern abominations called chambers, wherein a man may as easily lose himself as a mouse might in entering a thickly-populated rabbit-warren. ”

“ And I believe that the Magician of Cannon Street is—Mendoba.”
“Well?” I said, not yet quite sure of what Tregarthen was after. “And what then?”
“I only landed at Plymouth yesterday morning,” he continued. “Naturally, I wanted to find out all I could about my man as soon as possible. I knew that it would be of no use to present myself at Budge Row, because I should have had to go in the attire and semblance of a man of probity and standing, and this sword-cut on my cheek would instantly have been recognised by Mendoba—if Mendoba is the Magician. ”

“ The vendor cried at intervals in a hoarse, fog-spoilt voice:
“The real Royal Indian Tiger from Bengal! One penny!” And as I passed him he muttered thickly: “Buy a tiger, captain—just the same as your honour’s shot in the jungle—all alive, captain!”
I suppose it flatters every civilian to be accused of relationship with the Army; anyhow, having one handy in my ticket pocket, I dropped a shilling on the gazer’s tray as I walked by. ”

“ For Killingley was a great hand at thinking, and he had been unusually silent during the recent conversation.
“What I think, sir,” he answered, “is, that this man, if he is Mendoba, will be a stiff customer to tackle.”
“That goes without saying, Killingley,” I said. “He will.”
“You’ll go armed, of course?” he continued.
“I shall.”
“All the same,” he went on, “I don’t believe much in that, sir. A revolver isn’t much use nowadays—it’s clumsy and out of date. I think I had better keep an eye on you. How do you propose to go, sir?” ”

“ THE MAGICIAN OF CANNON STREET. MY reason for going down to Cannon Street at all that morning was not connected in any way with crimes and mysteries—I had no idea of either in my mind when I stepped out of the Underground at the Mansion House Station. I was on a much pleasanter errand than the solving of problems arising from crimes ”

“ And—that’s all, sir,” concluded Killingley, “and I’m glad you’re safe.”
“But, is he our man?” I said, turning to Tregarthen. “Is he—Mendoba?”
“He’s my man,” answered Tregarthen grimly. “I’ve seen him. Oh! he’s the man we knew as Mendoba right enough. We’ll go along to Bow Street presently, and you shall have another look at him—under safe conditions. I say, Campenhaye, that’s an unfortunate accomplishment of yours. ”

“ We turned into Jermyn Street well before eleven o’clock. I dashed straight upstairs to my office—to find Killingley and Tregarthen closeted together. And I saw at one glance that neither had been to bed. Further, I saw that Killingley was in a state of high concern; he so far lost his usual sang-froid, indeed, as to rush forward, and shake my hand violently. After which he relapsed into his usual normal condition.
“If one may ask a plain question, Campenhaye,” said Tregarthen, who had watched this little scene with amused eyes, “we should like to know where you come from? ”

“ And as I am a great believer in details and in rehearsal, I made myself up with infinite care and precision as a middle-aged man of an eminently but quietly and unobtrusively prosperous appearance, slightly inclined to stoutness (I am normally spare, not to say slender) , slightly grizzled as to moustache and hair (I am normally clean-shaven, and my hair is of distinctly raven hue) , and much bronzed as if from close acquaintance with the southern sun. ”

“ Whether a man can be rightly called unconscious who walks, talks, eats, transacts business, has conversation, rational and coherent, with other folk, and who is not aware that he has done any of these things, is a question which I shall leave the experts to decide. It is quite certain that before noon of one day and eight o’clock of the next I walked, talked, ate and drank, smoked and behaved myself as a rational man does, and was quite unaware of the fact. ”

“ But in that momentary opening I had seen that I was in the bedroom of an hotel, and I had remembered the interview of yesterday. Again I heard the compelling voice of the man with the equally compelling eyes.
“Attend to me!”
But—what since then?
I sprang out of bed, and made for the window I jerked up the blinds and looked out. Instantly I recognised the Old Steine. The tramcars were running on the road beneath; early birds were walking across the gardens. So I was in Brighton. But—how did I come there? ”

“ But to sit alone, feeling until you reached the point of absolute certainty that an eye is on you, and that you do not know where that eye is—this is enough to disconcert even the strongest nerved man, and in this instance it disconcerted me. ”

“ But—you may laugh, if you like—I believe that magician chap put me under hypnotic suggestion.”
Tregarthen, however, did not laugh. He turned to Killingley.
“Tell him,” he said. “It will perhaps make things clear.”
“There’s not such a lot to tell you, sir,” responded Killingley, turning to me. “You know that, as we had arranged, I kept a watch on the hall door of those chambers in Budge Row. I saw you enter. About half an hour later I saw you come out. You came out in company with a tall, dark young gentlemen. And when I saw him, I was certain we’d got Mendoba.” ”

“ That feeling of being alone, in a strange place, and of being silently looked at, inspected, taken stock of, from some coign of vantage of which one knows nothing, is one of the most trying experiences, one of the most severe nerve-tests, which a human being can go through. ”

“ In cases where I am face to face with either danger or difficulty they come readily to the scratch and are as strong as iron and dependable as steel; if any man stared at me I should give him as long and as steady a stare as he gave me. ”

“ It makes you feel that you are at somebody’s or at something’s mercy. You cannot move a finger or wink an eye without the consciousness that it is being seen and noted by a watchful observer who is stationed you know not where. ”

“ Certainly, it’s a new trail.”
“And Mendoba’s here in London?” I asked, greatly surprised.
“I believe he’s in Budge Row,” he answered. “But—so far, I haven’t seen him. And—I want to see him. Yes—I want to see that man pretty badly, Campenhaye. So—you and Killingley must help me.”
I glanced at Killingley, who was steadily devoting himself to tea and plum cake, and keeping his eyes fixed on our host.
“All right,” I said. “But before Killingley and I start out to help people, we like to know what it’s all about. Eh?”
“I’m going to tell you,” answered Tregarthen. ”

“ Obviously to get me out of the way, while he got himself out of the way. And so, there were precious hours—twenty of them—lost, and—where was he?
I have always prided myself on being pretty smart about tackling emergencies and difficulties. I recognised that the only thing to do in this case was to get a quick move on in the direction of London. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was precisely five minutes past eight. Now, I know that Killingley never presented himself at my office until ten o’clock, and it was accordingly useless to telephone to him there ”

“ But this Mendoba——”
Just then a sharp rap came at the outer door, and Killingley, going to open it, admitted a New Scotland Yard man who was very well known to us. He smiled sardonically when he saw Tregarthen and myself.
“Well, there’s an end of that,” he said. “There’ll be little more to hear about that chap, I’m thinking.”
“You don’t mean to say he’s escaped?” exclaimed Tregarthen.
“Escaped hanging,” said the other coolly. “He’s dead—suicide. They think he’d concealed something in a hollow tooth—it’s a favourite dodge with some of the dare-devil lot. Did it an hour ago. They want you, Mr. ”