The Man who Knew - Richard Horatio Edgar Wallace

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company had convinced him that there was no fear as to her personal safety.

      He was wont to grumble that she was more interested in her work than she was in him, which was probably true, because her development had been a slow one, and it could not be said that she was greatly in love with anything in the world save her self-imposed mission.

      She ate her frugal dinner, and drove down to the mission headquarters off the Albert Dock Road. Three nights a week were devoted by the mission to visitation work. Many women and girls living in this area spend their days at factories in the neighborhood, and they have only the evenings for the treatment of ailments which, in people better circumstanced, would produce the attendance of specialists. For the night work the nurses were accompanied by a volunteer male escort. May ​Nuttall's duties carried her that evening to Silvertown and to a network of mean streets to the east of the railway. Her work began at dusk, and was not ended until night had fallen and the stars were quivering in a hot sky.

      The heat was stifling, and as she came out of the last foul dwelling she welcomed as a relief even the vitiated air of the hot night. She went back into the passageway of the house, and by the light of a paraffin lamp made her last entry in the little diary she carried.

      "That makes eight we have seen, Thompson," she said to her escort. "Is there anybody else on the list?"

      "Nobody else to-night, miss," said the young man, concealing a yawn.

      "I 'm afraid it is not very interesting for you, Thompson," said the girl sympathetically; "you have n't even the excitement of work. It must be awfully dull standing outside waiting for me."

      "Bless you, miss," said the man. "I don't mind at all. If it is good enough for you to ​come into these streets, it is good enough for it me to go round with you.

      They stood in a little courtyard, a cul-de-sac cut off at one end by a sheer wall, and as the girl put back her diary into her little net bag a man came swiftly down from the street entrance of the court and passed her. As he did so the dim light of the lamp showed for a second his face, and her mouth formed an "O" of astonishment. She watched him until he disappeared into one of the dark doorways at the farther end of the court, and stood staring at the door as though unable to believe her eyes.

      There was no mistaking the pale face and the straight figure of Jasper Cole, John Minute's secretary.

      The Accountant at the Bank

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      CHAPTER IV

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      THE ACCOUNTANT AT THE BANK

      MAY NUTTALL expressed her perplexity in a letter:

      Dear Frank: Such a remarkable thing happened last night. I was in Silvers Rents about eleven o'clock, and had just finished seeing the last of my patients, when a man passed me and entered one of the houses—it was, I thought at the time, either the last or the last but one on the left. I now know that it was the last but one. There is no doubt at all in my mind that it was Mr. Cole, for not only did I see his face, but he carried the snakewood cane which he always affects.

      I must confess I was curious enough to make inquiries, and I found that he is a frequent visitor here, but nobody quite knows why he comes. The last house is occupied by two families, very uninteresting people, and the last house but one is empty save for a room which is apparently the one Mr. Cole uses. None of the people in the Rents know Mr. Cole or have ever seen him. Apparently the downstairs room in the empty house is kept locked, and a woman who lives opposite told my informant, Thompson, whom you will remember as the man who always goes with me when I am ​slumming, that the gentleman sometimes comes, uses this room, and that he always sweeps it out for himself. It cannot be very well furnished, and apparently he never stays the night there.

      Is n't it very extraordinary? Please tell me what you make of it—

       Frank Merrill put down the letter and slowly filled his pipe. He was puzzled, and found no solution either then or on his way to the office.

      He was the accountant of the Piccadilly branch of the London and Western Counties Bank, and had very little time to give to outside problems. But the thought of Cole and his curious appearance in a London slum under circumstances which, to say the least, were mysterious came between him and his work more than once.

      He was entering up some transactions when he was sent for by the manager. Frank Merrill, though he did not occupy a particularly imposing post in the bank, held nevertheless a very extraordinary position and one which insured for him more consideration than ​the average official receives at the hands of his superiors. His uncle was financially interested in the bank, and it was generally believed that Frank had been sent as much to watch his relative's interests as to prepare himself for the handling of the great fortune which John Minute would some day leave to his heir.

      The manager nodded cheerily as Frank came in and closed the door behind him.

      "Good morning, Mr. Merrill," said the chief. "I want to see you about Mr. Holland's account. You told me he was in the other day."

      Frank nodded.

      "He came in in the lunch hour."

      "I wish I had been here," said the manager thoughtfully. "I would like to see this gentleman."

      "Is there anything wrong with his account?"

      "Oh, no," said the manager with a smile; "he has a very good balance. In fact, too large a balance for a floating account. I wish you would see him and persuade him to put some ​of this money on deposit. The head office does not like big floating balances which may be withdrawn at any moment and which necessitates the keeping here of a larger quantity of cash than I care to hold.

      "Personally," he went on, "I do not like our method of doing business at all. Our head office being in Plymouth, it is necessary, by the peculiar rules of the bank, that the floating balances should be so covered, and I confess that your uncle is as great a sinner as any. Look at this?"

      He pushed a check across the table.

      "Here 's a bearer check for sixty thousand pounds which has just come in. It is to pay the remainder of the purchase price due to Consolidated Mines. Why they cannot accept the ordinary crossed check Heavens knows!"

      Frank looked at the sprawling signature and smiled.

      "You see, uncle 's got a reputation to keep up," he said good-humoredly; "one is not called 'Ready-Money Minute' for nothing."

      ​The manager made a little grimace.

      "That sort of thing may be necessary in South Africa," he said, "but here in the very heart of the money world cash payments are a form of lunacy. I do not want you to repeat this to your relative."

      "I am hardly likely to do that," said Frank, "though I do think you ought to allow something for uncle's peculiar experiences in the early days of his career."

      "Oh, I make every allowance," said the other; "only it is very inconvenient, but it was not to discuss your uncle's shortcomings that I brought you here."

      He pulled out a pass book from a heap in front of him.

      "'Mr. Rex Holland,'" he read. "He opened his account while I was on my holiday, you remember."

      "I remember very well," said Frank, "and he opened it through me."

      "What sort of man is he?" asked the manager.

      ​"I am afraid I am no good at descriptions," replied Frank, "but I should describe him as a typical young man about town, not

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