The Affair of the Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre, Co., Ltd. | Page 8

who are you?"
"I," answered Dorrington with perfect composure, 'I am Mr. Paul
Mallows -- you may have heard of me in connection with the
'Indestructible Bicycle Company.'"
Mallows was altogether taken aback. But then it struck him that
perhaps the detective, anxious to win the reward he had offered in the
matter of the Gillett outrage, was here making inquiries in the assumed
character of the man who stood, impenetrably disguised, before him.
So after a pause he asked again, a little less gruffly, "And what may be
your business?"
"Well," said Dorrington, "I did think of taking shares in this company. I
suppose there would be no objection to the managing director of

another company taking shares in this?"
"No," answered Mallows, wondering what all this was to lead to.
"Of course not; I'm sure you don't think so, eh?" Dorrington, as he
spoke, looked in the other's face with a sly leer, and Mallows began to
feel altogether uncomfortable. "But there's one other thing," Dorrington
pursued, taking out his pocket-book, though still maintaining his leer in
Mallows's face -- "one other thing. And by the way, will you have
another piece of court plaster now I've got it out? Don't say no. It's a
pleasure to oblige you, really." And Dorrington, his leer growing
positively fiendish, tapped the side of his nose with the case of court
plaster.
Mallows paled under the paint, gasped, and felt for support. Dorrington
laughed pleasantly. "Come, come," he said, encouragingly, "don't be
frightened. I admire your cleverness, Mr. Mallows, and I shall arrange
everything pleasantly, as you will see. And as to the court plaster, if
you'd rather not have it you needn't. You have another piece on now, I
see. Why didn't you get them to paint it over at Clarkson's? They really
did the face very well, though! And there again you were quite right.
Such a man as yourself was likely to be recognized in such a place as
Birmingham, and that would have been unfortunate for both of us --
both of us, I assure you.... Man alive, don't look as though I was going
to cut your throat! I'm not, I assure you. You're a smart man of business,
and I happen to have spotted a little operation of yours, that's all. I shall
arrange easy terms for you.... Pull yourself together end talk business
before the men come back. Here, sit on this bench."
Mallows, staring amazedly in Dorrington's face, suffered himself to be
led to a bench, and sat on it.
"Now," said Dorrington, "the first thing is a little matter of a hundred
pounds. That was the reward you promised if I should discover who
broke Gillett's arm last night. Well I have. Do you happen to have any
notes with you? If not, make it a cheque."
"But -- but -- how -- I mean who -- who ----"

"Tut, tut! Don't waste time, Mr. Mallows. Who? Why, yourself, of
course. I knew all about it before I left you last night, though it wasn't
quite convenient to claim the reward then, for reasons you'll understand
presently. Come, that little hundred."
"But what -- what proof have you? I'm not to be bounced like this, you
know," Mr. Mallows
was gathering his faculties again.
"Proof? Why, man alive, be reasonable! Suppose I have none -- none at
all? What difference does that make? Am I to walk out and tell your
fellow directors where I have met you -- here -- or am I to have that
hundred? More, am I to publish abroad that Mr. Paul Mallows is the
moving spirit in the rotten 'Avalanche Bicycle Company'?"
"Well," Mallows answered reluctantly, "if you put it like that ----"
"But I only put it like that to make you see things reasonably. As a
matter of fact your connection with this new company is enough to
bring your little performance with the iron chair pretty near proof. But I
got at it from the other side. See here -- you're much too clumsy with
your fingers, Mr. Mallows. First you go and tear the tip of your middle
finger opening your brougham door, and have to get court plaster from
me. Then you let that court plaster get frayed at the edge, and you still
keep it on. After that you execute your very successful chair operation.
When the eyes of the others are following the bicycles you take the
chair in the hand with the plaster on it, catching hold of it at the place
where a rough, loose, square nut protrudes, and you pitch it on to the
track so clumsily and nervously that the nut carries away the frayed
thread of the court plaster with it. Here it is, you see,