Ruff

“ It was a home, this, in which a man could well lead a peaceful life, could dream away his days to the music of the west wind, the gurgling stream, the song of birds, and the low murmuring of insects. Peter Ruff stood like a man turned to stone, for, even as he looked, these things passed away from before his eyes, the roar of the world beat in his ears—the world of intrigue, of crime, the world where the strong man hewed his way to power, and the weaklings fell like corn before the sickle. ”

“ The man bowed in silence, and took the visitor’s hat and overcoat. He passed along a spacious hall and into a delightfully furnished reception room, where an old lady with gray hair sat in the midst of a little circle of men. Peter Ruff stood, for a moment, upon the threshold, looking around him. She held out her hands.
“It is Monsieur Peter Ruff, is it not? At last, then, I am gratified. I have wished for so long to see one who has become so famous.” ”

“ Peter Ruff emptied his own tumbler and took up his hat.
“Sir Richard,” he said, “you are like a good many other people. Now that the thing is done, you shrink from the thought of it. You even wonder how I could have planned to bring about the death of this man. Listen, Sir Richard. Pity for the deserving, or for those who have in them one single quality, one single grain, of good, is a sentiment which deserves respect. Pity for vermin, who crawl about the world leaving a poisonous trail upon everything they touch, is a false and unnatural sentiment. ”

“ The ruffs are small, but there is character about them. See two approach each other from opposite directions—looking, perhaps, for something to eat. They meet, stop, straddle wide their legs, and blow up their neck-feathers. Regarding each other fixedly, they rock solemnly to and fro. Then they let fall their collars and go off, each on his way, as though nothing had happened. It is a rude courtesy—a sort of ruff etiquette, in fact. Sometimes, however, this putting on of frills—as the same thing will do in other places—leads to fights. ”

“ Peter Ruff shook his head.
“More than that,” he said. “You are a brave man in your way, Sir Richard Dyson, but you are going about now shivering under a load of fear. It sits like a devil incarnate upon your shoulders. It poisons the air wherever you go. Write your cheque, Sir Richard, and you can leave that little black devil in my wastebasket. You are under my protection. Nothing will happen to you.”
Sir Richard sat like a man mesmerised. The little man with the amiable expression and the badly fitting suit was leaning back in his chair, his finger tips pressed together, waiting. ”

“ Sir Richard took up his hat, lit another of Peter Ruff’s cigarettes, and departed. They heard the rattle of the lift as it descended. Then Miss Brown turned round in her chair.
“Don’t you do it, Peter!” she said solemnly. “The time has gone by for that sort of thing. The man may be unfit to live, but you don’t need to risk as much as that for a matter of five thousand pounds.”
Peter Ruff nodded.
“Quite right,” he said; “quite right, Violet. At the same time, five thousand pounds is an excellent sum. We must see what can be done.” ”

“ Peter Ruff, who had not even been allowed sufficient time to change his travelling clothes, was brought without hesitation to her bedside. She looked at him in silence for a moment with a cold glitter in her eyes.
"You are four days late, Monsieur Peter Ruff," she remarked. "Why did you not obey your first summons?"
"Madame," he answered, "I thought that there must be a misunderstanding. Four years ago I gave notice to the council that I had married and retired into private life. A country farmer is of no further use to the world." ”

“ Peter Ruff answered. “I thought of wearing my brown, with a brown overcoat. What do you suggest?”
“I like you in brown,” she answered, simply. “I should change, if I were you.”
He smiled faintly.
“I believe,” he said, “that you have a sort of superstition that as I change my clothes I change my humors.”
“Should I be so very far wrong?” she asked. “Don’t think that I am laughing at you, Peter. The greatest men in the world have had their foibles.”
Peter Ruff frowned.
“We shall be away for several days,” he said. “Be sure that you take some wraps. It will be cold, crossing.” ”

“ Peter Ruff declared. “I cannot imagine, Monsieur, how you could have believed me capable of filling such a position.”
“There is not much about you, Mr. Ruff, which we do not know,” Monsieur de Founcelles answered. “There are points about your career which we have marked with admiration. Your work over here was rapid and comprehensive. We know all about your checkmating the Count von Hern and the Comtesse de Pilitz. We have appealed to you for aid once only—your response was prompt and brilliant. You have all the qualifications we desire. ”

“ Peter Ruff declared. “Sorry the lift’s stopped. Three steps to the left and straight on. Good-night!”
Miss Brown arrived early the following morning, and was disposed to be inquisitive.
“I should like to know,” she said, “exactly what has become of Mr. Vincent Cawdor.”
Peter Ruff took her upstairs. There was a little mound of ashes in the grate.
She nodded.
“I imagined that,” she said. “But why did you send me out to watch yourself?”
“My dear Violet,” Peter Ruff answered, “there is no man in the world to-day who is my equal in the art of disguising himself. ”

“ The will of Madame lives even beyond the grave. The spirit which animated her when alive breathes still in all of us. In London you will wield a great power. Use it for the common good. And, remember this—the Double-Four has never failed, the Double-Four never can fail.”
“I am glad to hear you are so confident,” Peter Ruff said. ”

“ Sir Richard answered.
Peter Ruff yawned for a moment, but covered the indiscretion with his hand.
“Respecting this inconvenience,” he said, “which you admit that the disappearance of Job Masters has caused you, what is its tangible side?”
Sir Richard drew his chair a little nearer to the table where Ruff was sitting. His voice dropped almost to a whisper.
“It seems absurd,” he said, “and yet, what I tell you is the truth. I have been followed about—shadowed, in fact—for several days. Men, even in my own social circle, seem to hold aloof from me. ”

“ Peter Ruff drove through the gray dawn to his hotel, in the splendid automobile of Monsieur de Founcelles, whose homeward route lay in that direction. It was four o’clock when he accepted his key from a sleepy-looking clerk, and turned towards the staircase. The hotel was wrapped in semi-gloom. Sweepers and cleaners were at work. The palms had been turned out into the courtyard. Dust sheets lay over the furniture. One person only, save himself and the untidy-looking servants, was astir. ”

“ Peter Ruff answered. “Please take a chair.”
Sir Richard took the easy-chair, and discovering a box of cigarettes upon the table, helped himself. Then his eyes fell upon Miss Brown.
“Can’t do without your secretary?” he remarked.
“Impossible!” Peter Ruff answered. “As I told you before, I am her guarantee that what you say to me, or before her, is spoken as though to the dead.”
Sir Richard nodded.
“Just as well,” he remarked, “for I am going to talk about a man who I wish were dead!”
“There are few of us,” Peter Ruff said, “who have not our enemies.” ”

“ Eight o’clock was striking from St. Martin’s Church when the door of Peter Ruff’s office was softly opened and closed again. A man in a slouch hat and overcoat entered, and after feeling along the wall for a moment, turned up the electric light. Violet Brown rose from her place with a little sob. She stretched out her hand to him.
“Peter!” she cried. “Peter!”
“My name,” the newcomer said calmly, “is Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald.”
“Oh, listen to me!” she begged. “There is still time, if you hurry. Think how many clever men before you have been deceived by the woman in whom they trusted. ”

“ Peter Ruff declared, “everything is right. I have made friends with Dory, and I have won a thousand pounds. When we leave here, I am going to look out for that little estate in the country. If you come out with the lunch, dear, I want you to watch that man Hamilton’s coat. It’s exactly what I should like to wear myself at my own shooting parties. ”

“ Peter Ruff said, stretching out his hand for his hat.
She waved to him to put it down.
“I will tell you,” she said. “It has nothing to do with the case, but since you ask, you shall know. There is a dear little girl in our company—Fluffy Dean we all call her—only eighteen years old. We all love her, she is so sweet, and just like I was when I first went on the stage, only much nicer. She is very pretty, she has no money, and she is such an affectionate little dear that although she is as good as gold, we are all terrified for her sake whenever she makes acquaintances. ”

“ As Lady Mary and her escort drew near, the reason for the young American’s annoyance became clearer—his two companions were talking softly, but with great animation, in a foreign language, which it was obvious that he did not understand. Peter Ruff’s elbow pressed against his partner’s arm, and their pace slackened. He ventured, even, to pause for a moment, looking into the ballroom as though in search of some one, and he had by no means the appearance of a man likely to understand Hungarian. Then, to Lady Mary’s surprise, he touched the Count von Hern on the shoulder and addressed him. ”

“ Peter Ruff murmured.
“Mr. Dory is not well off,” she continued, “and I am afraid that I am very fond of life and going about, and everything is so expensive nowadays. Then I don’t like his profession. I think it is hateful to be always trying to catch people and put them in prison—don’t you, Mr. Ruff?”
Peter Ruff smiled.
“Naturally,” he answered. “Your husband and I work from the opposite poles of life. He is always seeking to make criminals of the people whom I am always trying to prove worthy members of society.”
“How noble!” Maud exclaimed, clasping her hands and looking up at him. ”

“ Peter Ruff repeated.
She nodded.
“He seemed to have a lot of bad luck this last year,” she said. “All his cases went wrong, and they don’t think so much of him at Scotland Yard as they did. I am not sure that he hasn’t begun to drink a little.”
“I am sorry to hear it,” Peter Ruff said, gravely.
“I don’t see why you should be,” she answered, bluntly. “He was no friend of yours, nor isn’t now. He may not be so dangerous as he was, but if ever you come across him, you take my tip and be careful. He means to do you a mischief some day, if he can. ”

“ Robin Ruff, writing in a shaky hand, with honest independence of spelling, and hearty contempt for necessary doubling of consonants, sent a message to his grandson, and would I see Wether and Weaners' people about "them yowes." Robin Ruff is an old man. He is nearer seventy than sixty I should say; but he is as erect as a dart, and can ride a long day's journey, or do a hard day's work, with many a younger man. He is six feet high, his hands are knotted and brown--mottled with sun, and hardened with labour. ”

“ Mr. Ruff, you are such a clever man. Can’t you see the truth?”
Peter Ruff looked at her steadily for several moments.
“Lady Mary,” he said, “I can see what you are going to suggest. You are going on the assumption that Austen Abbott was shot by Letty Shaw and that your brother is taking the thing on his shoulders.”
“I am sure of it!” she declared. “The girl did it herself, beyond a doubt. Brian would never have shot any one. He might have horsewhipped him, perhaps—even beaten him to death—but shot him in cold blood—never!” ”

“ Peter Ruff remarked, cheerfully. “He’s like myself—a late bird.”
“I fear not,” Dory answered, drily. “Nice rooms you have here, sir. Just a sitting room and bedroom, eh?”
Peter Ruff stood up and threw open the door of the inner apartment.
“That’s so,” he answered. “Care to have a look round?”
The detective did look round, and pretty thoroughly. As soon as he was sure that there was no one concealed upon the premises, he drank his whisky and soda and went.
“I’ll look in again to see Cawdor,” he remarked—“to-morrow, perhaps, or the next day.” ”

“ Peter Ruff said. “If there is anything I can do—”
“You are very kind,” she murmured, half raising her eyes to his and dropping them again, “but, you see, we are perfect strangers to one another. You don’t know me at all, do you? And I have only heard of you through the newspapers. You might think all sorts of things about my coming here to make enquiries about a gentleman.”
“I can assure you,” Peter Ruff said, sincerely, “that you need have no fears—no fears at all. Just speak to me quite frankly. Mr. Fitzgerald was a friend of yours, was he not?”
Maud simpered. ”

“ Peter Ruff said, firmly, “we seek the truth. Be so good as to humour me in this. Dory, will you go to the front door, stand upon the mat—so? You are Captain Sotherst—you have just entered. I am Austen Abbott. You, Miss Shaw, have just ordered me from the room. You see, I move toward the door. I open it—so. Miss Shaw,” he added, turning swiftly towards her, “once more will you assure me that every one who was in the flat that night, with the exception of your domestic servant, is present now?” ”

“ Peter Ruff nodded.
“Put up a notice,” he said—“‘Back on Friday.’ Pack up your books and take them round to the Bank before you leave. The lift man will call you a taxi-cab.”
He watched her preparations with a sort of gloomy calm.
“I wish you’d tell me what is the matter with you?” she asked, as she turned to follow her belongings.
“I do not know,” Peter Ruff said. “I, suppose I am suffering from what you would call presentiments. Be at Charing-Cross punctually.”
“Why do you go at all?” she asked. “These people are of no further use to you. ”