The Little Nugget Read online

  Chapter 6

  I

  I give the letter in full. It was written from the s.y. _Mermaid_,lying in Monaco Harbour.

  MY DEAR PETER, Where is Ogden? We have been expecting him everyday. Mrs Ford is worrying herself to death. She keeps asking me ifI have any news, and it is very tiresome to have to keep tellingher that I have not heard from you. Surely, with the opportunitiesyou must get every day, you can manage to kidnap him. Do be quick.We are relying on you.--In haste, CYNTHIA.

  I read this brief and business-like communication several timesduring the day; and after dinner that night, in order to meditateupon it in solitude, I left the house and wandered off in thedirection of the village.

  I was midway between house and village when I became aware that Iwas being followed. The night was dark, and the wind moving in thetree-tops emphasized the loneliness of the country road. Both timeand place were such as made it peculiarly unpleasant to hearstealthy footsteps on the road behind me.

  Uncertainty in such cases is the unnerving thing. I turnedsharply, and began to walk back on tiptoe in the direction fromwhich I had come.

  I had not been mistaken. A moment later a dark figure loomed upout of the darkness, and the exclamation which greeted me, as Imade my presence known, showed that I had taken him by surprise.

  There was a momentary pause. I expected the man, whoever he mightbe, to run, but he held his ground. Indeed, he edged forward.

  'Get back!' I said, and allowed my stick to rasp suggestively onthe road before raising it in readiness for any sudden development.It was as well that he should know it was there.

  The hint seemed to wound rather than frighten him.

  'Aw, cut out the rough stuff, bo,' he said reproachfully in acautious, husky undertone. 'I ain't goin' to start anything.'

  I had an impression that I had heard the voice before, but I couldnot place it.

  'What are you following me for?' I demanded. 'Who are you?'

  'Say, I want a talk wit youse. I took a slant at youse under delamp-post back dere, an' I seen it was you, so I tagged along.Say, I'm wise to your game, sport.'

  I had identified him by this time. Unless there were two men inthe neighbourhood of Sanstead who hailed from the Bowery, thismust be the man I had seen at the 'Feathers' who had incurred thedisapproval of Miss Benjafield.

  'I haven't the faintest idea what you mean,' I said. 'What is mygame?'

  His voice became reproachful again.

  'Ah chee!' he protested. 'Quit yer kiddin'! What was youserubberin' around de house for last night if you wasn't trailin' dekid?'

  'Was it you who ran into me last night?' I asked.

  'Gee! I fought it was a tree. I came near takin' de count.'

  'I did take it. You seemed in a great hurry.'

  'Hell!' said the man simply, and expectorated.

  'Say,' he resumed, having delivered this criticism on thatstirring episode, dat's a great kid, dat Nugget. I fought it was aBlack Hand soup explosion when he cut loose. But, say, let's don'twaste time. We gotta get together about dat kid.'

  'Certainly, if you wish it. What do you happen to mean?'

  'Aw, quit yer kiddin'!' He expectorated again. He seemed to be aman who could express the whole gamut of emotions by this simplemeans. 'I know you!'

  'Then you have the advantage of me, though I believe I rememberseeing you before. Weren't you at the "Feathers" one Wednesdayevening, singing something about a dog?'

  'Sure. Dat was me.'

  'What do you mean by saying that you know me?'

  'Aw, quit yer kiddin', Sam!'

  There was, it seemed to me, a reluctantly admiring note in hisvoice.

  'Tell me, who do you think I am?' I asked patiently.

  'Ahr ghee! You can't string me, sport. Smooth Sam Fisher, is whoyou are, bo. I know you.'

  I was too surprised to speak. Verily, some have greatness thrustupon them.

  'I hain't never seen youse, Sam,' he continued, 'but I know it'syou. And I'll tell youse how I doped it out. To begin with, thereain't but you and your bunch and me and my bunch dat knows deLittle Nugget's on dis side at all. Dey sneaked him out of NewYork mighty slick. And I heard that you had come here after him.So when I runs into a guy dat's trailin' de kid down here, well,who's it going to be if it ain't youse? And when dat guy talkslike a dude, like they all say you do, well, who's it going to beif it ain't youse? So quit yer kiddin', Sam, and let's get down tobusiness.'

  'Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr Buck MacGinnis?' I said. Ifelt convinced that this could be no other than that celebrity.

  'Dat's right. Dere's no need to keep up anyt'ing wit me, Sam.We're bote on de same trail, so let's get down to it.'

  'One moment,' I said. 'Would it surprise you to hear that my nameis Burns, and that I am a master at the school?'

  He expectorated admirably.

  'Hell, no!' he said. 'Gee, it's just what you would be, Sam. Ialways heard youse had been one of dese rah-rah boys oncest. Say,it's mighty smart of youse to be a perfessor. You're right in onde ground floor.'

  His voice became appealing.

  'Say, Sam, don't be a hawg. Let's go fifty-fifty in dis deal. Mybunch and me has come a hell of a number of miles on disproposition, and dere ain't no need for us to fall scrappin' overit. Dere's plenty for all of us. Old man Ford'll cough up enoughfor every one, and dere won't be any fuss. Let's sit in togedderon dis nuggett'ing. It ain't like as if it was an ornery two-by-fourdeal. I wouldn't ask youse if it wasn't big enough fir de wholebunch of us.'

  As I said nothing, he proceeded.

  'It ain't square, Sam, to take advantage of your having education.If it was a square fight, and us bote wit de same chance, Iwouldn't say; but you bein' a dude perfessor and gettin' rightinto de place like dat ain't right. Say, don't be a hawg, Sam.Don't swipe it all. Fifty-fifty! Does dat go?'

  'I don't know,' I said. 'You had better ask the real Sam. Goodnight.'

  I walked past him and made for the school gates at my best pace.He trotted after me, pleading.

  'Sam, give us a quarter, then.'

  I walked on.

  'Sam, don't be a hawg!'

  He broke into a run.

  'Sam!' His voice lost its pleading tone and rasped menacingly.

  'Gee, if I had me canister, youse wouldn't be so flip! Listenhere, you big cheese! You t'ink youse is de only t'ing in sight,huh? Well, we ain't done yet. You'll see yet. We'll fix you! Yousehad best watch out.'

  I stopped and turned on him. 'Look here, you fool,' I cried. 'Itell you I am not Sam Fisher. Can't you understand that you havegot hold of the wrong man? My name is Burns--_Burns_.'

  He expectorated--scornfully this time. He was a man slow by natureto receive ideas, but slower to rid himself of one that hadcontrived to force its way into what he probably called his brain.He had decided on the evidence that I was Smooth Sam Fisher, andno denials on my part were going to shake his belief. He looked onthem merely as so many unsportsmanlike quibbles prompted by greed.

  'Tell it to Sweeney!' was the form in which he crystallized hisscepticism.

  'May be you'll say youse ain't trailin' de Nugget, huh?'

  It was a home-thrust. If truth-telling has become a habit, onegets slowly off the mark when the moment arrives for the prudentlie. Quite against my will, I hesitated. Observant Mr MacGinnisperceived my hesitation and expectorated triumphantly.

  'Ah ghee!' he remarked. And then with a sudden return to ferocity,'All right, you Sam, you wait! We'll fix you, and fix you good!See? Dat goes. You t'ink youse kin put it across us, huh? Allright, you'll get yours. You wait!'

  And with these words he slid off into the night. From somewhere inthe murky middle distance came a scornful 'Hawg!' and he was gone,leaving me with a settled conviction that, while I had frequentlyhad occasion, since my expedition to Sanstead began, to describeaffairs as complex, their complexity had now reached its height.With a watchful Pinkerton's man within, and a vengeful gang ofrivals wi
thout, Sanstead House seemed likely to become anunrestful place for a young kidnapper with no previous experience.

  The need for swift action had become imperative.

  II

  White, the butler, looking singularly unlike a detective--which, Isuppose, is how a detective wants to look--was taking the air onthe football field when I left the house next morning for abefore-breakfast stroll. The sight of him filled me with a desirefor first-hand information on the subject of the man Mr MacGinnissupposed me to be and also of Mr MacGinnis himself. I wanted to beassured that my friend Buck, despite appearances, was a placidperson whose bark was worse than his bite.

  White's manner, at our first conversational exchanges, wasentirely that of the butler. From what I came to know of himlater, I think he took an artistic pride in throwing himself intowhatever role he had to assume.

  At the mention of Smooth Sam Fisher, however, his manner peeledoff him like a skin, and he began to talk as himself, a racy andvigorous self vastly different from the episcopal person hethought it necessary to be when on duty.

  'White,' I said, 'do you know anything of Smooth Sam Fisher?'

  He stared at me. I suppose the question, led up to by no previousremark, was unusual.

  'I met a gentleman of the name of Buck MacGinnis--he was ourvisitor that night, by the way--and he was full of Sam. Do youknow him?'

  'Buck?'

  'Either of them.'

  'Well, I've never seen Buck, but I know all about him. There'spepper to Buck.'

  'So I should imagine. And Sam?'

  'You may take it from me that there's more pepper to Sam's littlefinger than there is to Buck's whole body. Sam could make Bucklook like the last run of shad, if it came to a showdown. Buck'sjust a common roughneck. Sam's an educated man. He's got brains.'

  'So I gathered. Well, I'm glad to hear you speak so well of him,because that's who I'm supposed to be.'

  'How's that?'

  'Buck MacGinnis insists that I am Smooth Sam Fisher. Nothing I cansay will shift him.'

  White stared. He had very bright humorous brown eyes. Then hebegan to laugh.

  'Well, what do you know about that?' he exclaimed. 'Wouldn't thatjar you!'

  'It would. I may say it did. He called me a hog for wanting tokeep the Little Nugget to myself, and left threatening to "fixme". What would you say the verb "to fix" signified in MrMacGinnis's vocabulary?'

  White was still chuckling quietly to himself.

  'He's a wonder!' he observed. 'Can you beat it? Taking you forSmooth Sam!'

  'He said he had never seen Smooth Sam. Have you?'

  'Lord, yes.'

  'Does he look like me?'

  'Not a bit.'

  'Do you think he's over here in England?'

  'Sam? I know he is.'

  'Then Buck MacGinnis was right?'

  'Dead right, as far as Sam being on the trail goes. Sam's afterthe Nugget to get him this time. He's tried often enough before,but we've been too smart for him. This time he allows he's goingto bring it off.'

  'Then why haven't we seen anything of him? Buck MacGinnis seems tobe monopolizing the kidnapping industry in these parts.'

  'Oh, Sam'll show up when he feels good and ready. You can take itfrom me that Sam knows what he is doing. Sam's a special pet ofmine. I don't give a flip for Buck MacGinnis.'

  'I wish I had your cheery disposition! To me Buck MacGinnis seemsa pretty important citizen. I wonder what he meant by "fix"?'

  White, however, declined to leave the subject of Buck's moregifted rival.

  'Sam's a college man, you know. That gives him a pull. He hasbrains, and can use them.'

  'That was one of the points on which Buck MacGinnis reproached me.He said it was not fair to use my superior education.'

  He laughed.

  'Buck's got no sense. That's why you find him carrying on like aporch-climber. It's his only notion of how to behave when he wantsto do a job. And that's why there's only one man to keep your eyeon in this thing of the Little Nugget, and that's Sam. I wish youcould get to know Sam. You'd like him.'

  'You seem to look on him as a personal friend. I certainly don'tlike Buck.'

  'Oh, Buck!' said White scornfully.

  We turned towards the house as the sound of the bell came to usacross the field.

  'Then you think we may count on Sam's arrival, sooner or later, asa certainty?' I said.

  'Surest thing you know.'

  'You will have a busy time.'

  'All in the day's work.'

  'I suppose I ought to look at it in that way. But I do wish I knewexactly what Buck meant by "fix".'

  White at last condescended to give his mind to the trivial point.

  'I guess he'll try to put one over on you with a sand-bag,' hesaid carelessly. He seemed to face the prospect with calm.

  'A sand-bag, eh?' I said. 'It sounds exciting.'

  'And feels it. I know. I've had some.'

  I parted from him at the door. As a comforter he had failed toqualify. He had not eased my mind to the slightest extent.