Elk 02 The Joker by Edgar Wallace Read Free Book Online Page B

corner.
    ‘Why should I want you?’
    ‘I don’t know. I’ve just got a feeling that you might. I’m a hunch merchant - do you know what a hunch merchant is?’
    She could guess.
    ‘Premonitions are my long suit, telepathy my sixth sense, and I’ve got a hunch…perhaps I’m wrong. I hope I am.’
    Once or twice he had looked at his watch, a little furtively, she thought, yet it seemed that he was prepared to break any appointment he had made, for he lingered over his coffee until she brought a happy evening to an abrupt close by putting on her gloves. As they were driving back to her rooms: ‘I haven’t asked you very much about yourself. That is the kind of impertinence which really scares me,’ he said, ‘but I gather that you’re unmarried - and unengaged?’ he asked.
    ‘I have no followers,’ she said without embarrassment, ‘and I hope that confession will offer no encouragement to the philandering constabulary!’
    He chuckled for fully a minute.
    ‘That’s good,’ he said at last.’ “Philandering constabulary” is taken into use for special occasions. You’re the first woman - ’
    ‘Don’t!’ she warned him.
    ‘ - I’ve ever met with a real sense of humour,’ he concluded. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you.’
    ‘I wasn’t disappointed. I expected something banal,’ she said. ‘My house is the third on the left…thank you.’
    She got down without assistance and offered her hand, and as he looked past her towards the door of the house:
    ‘The number is 163,’ she said, ‘but you needn’t write unless you’ve something very policey to write about. Good night!’
    Jim Carlton was smiling all the way to Whitehall Gardens and his sense of amusement still held when he followed the footman into Sir Joseph Layton’s study.
    The words ‘Joseph Layton’ are familiar to all who carry passports, for he was the Foreign Secretary, a man of slight figure and ascetic face; and possibly the most cartooned politician in Britain.
    He looked up over his big horn-rimmed glasses as Jim came in. ‘Sit down, Carlton.’ He blotted the letter he had been writing, inserted it with punctilious care into an envelope, and addressed it with a flourish before he spoke. ‘I’ve just come back from the House. Did you call before?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘Humph!’ He settled himself more easily in his padded chair, put the tips of his fingers together, and again scrutinised the detective over his glasses. ‘Well, what are the developments?’ he asked, and added: ‘I’ve seen the cables you sent me. Curious - very curious indeed. You intercepted them?’
    ‘Some of them, sir,’ said Jim. ‘A great deal of the correspondence of the Rata Syndicate goes through other channels. But there’s enough to show that Rata is there preparing for a big killing. I should imagine that every big broking house in the world has received similar instructions.’
    Sir Joseph unlocked a drawer of his desk and, pulling it open, took out a number of sheets of paper fastened together by a big brass clip. He turned the leaves slowly.
    ‘I suppose this one is typical,’ he said.
    It was a message addressed to Rata Syndicate, Wall Street: ‘Be ready to sell for 15 per cent. drop undermentioned securities.’
    Here followed a long list that covered two pages of writing, and against each stock was the number to be sold.
    ‘Yes,’ said Sir Joseph, stroking his little white moustache thoughtfully. ‘Very peculiar, very remarkable! As you said in your letter, these are the very stocks which would be instantly affected by the threat of war. But who on earth are we going to fight? The International situation was never easier. The Moroccan question has been settled. You read my speech in the House last night?’ Jim nodded. ‘Upon my word,’ said Sir Joseph, ‘I think I was very careful to avoid anything like unjustifiable optimism, but, searching the world from East to West, I can see no single cloud on the horizon.’
    Jim