The Man Who Bought London by Edgar Wallace Read Free Book Online Page A

because I hate him so much that I cannot let him out of my sight?’ His face was pale now; his hands, moist with perspiration, were clenched till the knuckles showed whitely. ‘You think I’m mad – but you don’t know the fascination of hate. I hate him, my God, how I hate him!’
    He hissed the last words between his clenched teeth. Mr Leete nodded approvingly. ‘Then I’m going to give you good news,’ he said slowly. ‘Kerry is going to be bled.’
    ‘Bled?’ There was no mistaking the almost brutal joy in the other’s tone.
    ‘Not the way you mean,’ said Mr Leete facetiously; ‘but we’re going to make him pay for Goulding’s.’
    ‘We?’
    ‘We,’ repeated Leete. ‘My dear man, Goulding’s is mine – has always been my business. I built up Goulding’s out of Tack and Brighten. I have sold the failure; I have kept the success.’
    Again Zeberlieff frowned.
    ‘Kerry didn’t know?’ he asked, his incredulity apparent.
    Mr Leete shook his head, and laughed – he laughed a curiously high laugh, almost falsetto. Zeberlieff waited until he had finished.
    ‘I’d like to bet you all the money in the world he did know,’ he said, and the smile vanished from Mr Leete’s homely face.
    ‘He knows now,’ he said, ‘because I’ve told him.’
    ‘He knew all the time,’ said the other. ‘I wonder what dirt he has in store for you.’
    He thought a moment. That active brain which had foreseen the drought of ’04 and banked on the cotton famine of ’08 was very busy.
    ‘What is he going to do?’ he asked suddenly. ‘What is the plan on which he is working? – I don’t know, although I was in the syndicate: none of the others know. He has got the whole thing written out and deposited in the Jewel House. No eye but his has seen it.’
    Leete rose to change into his street clothes.
    ‘We could smash Kerry if we knew,’ continued Zeberlieff thoughtfully. ‘I’d give a million dollars to know what his plans are.’
    Whilst Leete dressed, the other sat with his chin on his clenched fists, frowning at the street below. Now and again he would change his position to make a note.
    When Leete returned, ready for an interview which he had arranged with King Kerry, Zeberlieff was almost cheerful.
    ‘Don’t go till Gleber comes,’ he said. And Mr Leete looked at his watch regretfully. Before he could excuse himself, the servant announced the man for whom Zeberlieff was waiting.
    Gleber proved to be a little colourless man, with a very bald head and a manner which was birdlike and mysterious.
    ‘Well?’
    ‘The young lady came at ten o’clock,’ he said. ‘She stood outside the office for ten minutes, then went in.’
    ‘The same girl that lunched at the Savoy?’ asked Zeberlieff, and the man nodded.
    ‘That’s the Marion girl,’ said Leete with a grin. ‘A bit of a shop-girl – is he that sort of fellow?’
    Zeberlieff shook his head with a frown.
    ‘He’s a pretty good judge. How long did she stay?’ he asked the man.
    ‘She hadn’t come out when I left. I think she’s permanent there.’
    ‘Rot!’ snapped Leete. ‘What is he going to keep a girl in his office for – a girl of that class?’
    Still Zeberlieff indicated that he did not accept the other’s view.
    ‘This is the perfect secretary he has always been chasing,’ he said. ‘That girl is going to be a factor, Leete – perhaps she is already.’ He bit his forefinger reflectively. ‘If she knew!’ he said half to himself.
    Leete took a hurried farewell, and reached the office of the Big Trust a few minutes after time.
    King Kerry was there, and Miss Marion was also there, seated at a rosewood desk behind a pile of papers with every indication of permanency.
    ‘Sit down, Mr Leete,’ invited Kerry with a nod, as his visitor was announced. ‘Now, exactly what is your proposition?’
    Mr Leete glanced significantly at Elsie, and the girl half rose. A movement of Kerry’s hand checked her.
    ‘I have no business