The Strand Magazine, Vol. 07, Issue 42, June, 1894: An Illustrated Monthly — John Shaqi
The Strand Magazine, Vol. 07, Issue 42, June, 1894: An Illustrated MonthlyVarious
General
The Strand Magazine, Vol. 07, Issue 42, June, 1894: An Illustrated Monthly
Various
English literature -- Periodicals; Short stories, English -- Periodicals
At this moment the door of the outer office was heard to open, and
somebody entered. The door between the two offices was ajar, and Hewitt
could see right through to the glass door left open over the barrier,
and into the space beyond. A well-dressed, dark, bushy-bearded man
stood there carrying a hand-bag, which he placed on the ledge before
him. Hewitt raised his hand to enjoin silence. The man spoke in a
rather high-pitched voice and with a slight accent. "Is Mr. Dixon now
within?" he asked.
"He is engaged," answered one of the draughtsmen; "very particularly
engaged. I'm afraid you won't be able to see him this afternoon. Can I
give him any message?"
"This is two--the second time I have come to-day. Not two hours ago Mr.
Dixon himself tells me to call again. I have a very important--very
excellent steam-packing to show him that is very cheap and the best of
the market." The man tapped his bag. "I have just taken orders from the
largest railway companies. Cannot I see him, for one second only? I
will not detain him."
"Really, I'm sure you can't this afternoon--he isn't seeing anybody.
But if you'll leave your name----"
"My name is Hunter; but what the good of that? He ask me to call a
little later and I come, and now he is engaged. It is a very great
pity." And the man snatched up his bag and walking-stick and stalked
off indignantly.
Hewitt stood still, gazing through the small aperture in the doorway.
"You'd scarcely expect a man with such a name as Hunter to talk with
that accent, would you?" he observed, musingly. "It isn't a French
accent, nor a German; but it seems foreign. You don't happen to know
him, I suppose?"
"No, I don't. He called here about half-past twelve, just while we
were in the middle of our search and I was frantic over the loss of
the drawings. I was in the outer office myself, and told him to call
later. I have lots of such agents here, anxious to sell all sorts of
engineering appliances. But what will you do now? Shall you see my men?"
"I think," said Hewitt, rising, "I think I'll get you to question them
yourself."
"Myself?"
"Yes, I have a reason. Will you trust me with the key of the private
room opposite? I will go over there for a little, while you talk to
your men in this room. Bring them in here and shut the door--I can look
after the office from across the corridor, you know. Ask them each to
detail his exact movements about the office this morning, and get them
to recall each visitor who has been here from the beginning of the
week. I'll let you know the reason of this later. Come across to me in
a few minutes."
Hewitt took the key and passed through the outer office into the
corridor.
Ten minutes later, Mr. Dixon, having questioned his draughtsmen,
followed him. He found Hewitt standing before the table in the private
room, on which lay several drawings on tracing-paper.
"See here, Mr. Dixon," said Hewitt, "I think these are the drawings you
are anxious about?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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