The MalefactorOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
The Malefactor
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
“I think Nesbitt’s case is a little different from the others,”
Aynesworth continued. “He is quite young, little more than a boy, and he
has only just started in business. To be hammered would be absolute
ruin for him. He seems such a decent young fellow, and he’s only just
married. He’s in an awful state downstairs. I wish you’d have another
talk with him. I think you’d feel inclined to let him down easy.”
Wingrave smiled coldly.
“My dear Aynesworth,” he said, “you astonish me. I am not interested
in this young man’s future or in his matrimonial arrangements. He has
gambled with me and lost. I presume that he would have taken my money
if I had been the fool they all thought me. As it is, I mean to have
his--down to the last cent!”
“He isn’t like the others,” Aynesworth protested doggedly. “He’s only
a boy--and it seems such jolly hard luck, doesn’t it, only four months
married! New York hasn’t much pity for paupers. He looks mad enough to
blow his brains out. Have him up, sir, and see if you can’t compromise!”
“Fetch him,” Wingrave said curtly.
Aynesworth hurried downstairs. The boy was walking restlessly up and
down the room. The look he turned upon Aynesworth was almost pitiful.
“He’ll see you again,” Aynesworth said hurriedly. “Come along.”
The boy wrung his hand.
“You’re a brick!” he declared.
THE HIDDEN HAND
Wingrave glanced up as they entered. He motioned Nesbitt to a chair by
his side, but the young man remained standing.
“My secretary tells me,” Wingrave said curtly, “that you cannot pay me
what you owe.”
“It’s more than I possess in the world, sir,” Nesbitt answered.
“It is not a large amount,” Wingrave said. “I do not see how you can
carry on business unless you can command such a sum as this.”
Nesbitt moistened his dry lips with his tongue.
“I have only been doing a very small business, sir,” he answered, “but
quite enough to make a living. I don’t speculate as a rule. Hardwells
seemed perfectly safe, or I wouldn’t have touched them. I sold at four.
They are not worth one. I could have bought thousands last week for two
dollars.”
“That is beside the question,” Wingrave answered. “If you do not pay
this, you have cheated me out of my profits for I should have placed the
commission with brokers who could. Why did you wish to see me again?”
“I thought that you might give me time,” Nesbitt answered, raising his
head and looking Wingrave straight in the face. “It seems rather a low
down thing to come begging. I’d rather cut my right hand off than do it
for myself, but I’ve--someone else to think about, and if I’m hammered,
I’m done for. Give me a chance, Mr. Wingrave! I’ll pay you in time.”
“What do you ask for?” Wingrave said.
“I thought that you might give me time,” Nesbitt said, “and I’ll pay you
the rest off with the whole of my profits every year.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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