The Mystery of the Four Fingers | Page 6

hair glanced swiftly across the
room in the direction of the cripple huddled up in the armchair. Just as

if he had been waiting for a signal, the invalid stretched out one of his
long arms, and laid his fingers significantly on the tiny silver box he
had deposited on the table some little time before. The small waiter
went across the room and deliberately lifted the silver box from the
table. He then walked briskly across to where the millionaire was
seated, placed the box close to his elbow, and vanished. He seemed to
fairly race down the room until he was lost in a pile of palms which
masked the door. Gurdon had followed all this with the deepest
possible interest. Venner sat there, apparently lost to all sense of his
surroundings. His head was on his hands, and his mind was apparently
far away. Therefore, Gurdon was left entirely to himself, to study the
strange things that were going on around him. His whole attention was
now concentrated upon Fenwick, who presently tilted his glass of
Curacoa dexterously into his coffee cup, and then stretched out his
hand for the silver match box by his side. He was still talking to his
companion while he fumbled for a match without looking at the little
case in his hand. Suddenly he ceased to speak, his black eyes rivetted
on the box. It fell from his fingers as if it had contained some
poisonous insect, and he rose to his feet with a sudden scream that
could be heard all over the room.
There was a quick hush in the conversation, and every head was turned
in the direction of the millionaire's table. Practically every diner there
knew who the man with the yellow head was, so that the startling
interruption was all the more unexpected. Once again the frightened cry
rang out, and then Fenwick stood, gazing with horrified eyes and white,
ghastly face at the innocent looking little box on the table.
"Who brought this here?" he screamed. "Bring that waiter here. Find
him at once. Find him at once, I say. A little man with beady eyes and
hair like rats' tails."
The head waiter bustled up, full of importance; but it was in vain that
he asked for some explanation of what had happened. All Fenwick
could do was to stand there gesticulating and calling aloud for the
production of the erring waiter.
"But I assure you, sir," the head waiter said, "we have no waiter here

who answers to the description of the man you mention. They are all
here now, every waiter who has entered the room to-night. If you will
be so good as to pick out the one who has offended you--"
Fenwick's startled, bloodshot eyes ranged slowly over the array of
waiters which had been gathered for his inspection round his table.
Presently he shook his head with an impatient gesture.
"I tell you, he is not here," he cried. "The man is not here. He is quite
small, with very queer, black hair."
The head waiter was equally positive in his assurance. Louder rose the
angry voice of the millionaire, till at length Venner was aroused from
his reverie and looked up to Gurdon to know what was going on. The
latter explained as far as possible, not omitting to describe the strange
matter of the silver box. Venner smiled with the air of a man who could
say a great deal if he chose.
"It is all part of the programme," he said. "That will come in my story
later on. But what puzzles me is where that handsome cripple comes in.
The mystery deepens."
By this time Fenwick's protestations had grown weaker. He seemed to
ramble on in a mixture of English and Portuguese which was
exceedingly puzzling to the head waiter, who still was utterly in the
dark as to the cause of offence. Most of the diners had gathered round
the millionaire's table with polite curiosity, and sundry offers of
assistance.
"I think we had better get to our own room," a sweet, gentle voice said,
as the tall, fair girl by Fenwick's side rose and moved in the direction of
the door. It was, perhaps, unfortunate that Venner had risen at the same
time. As he strode from his own table, he came face to face with the
girl who stood there watching him with something like pain in her blue
eyes. Just for an instant she staggered back, and apparently would have
fallen had not Venner placed his arm about her waist. In the strange
confusion caused by the unexpected disturbance, nobody had noticed
this besides Gurdon, who promptly rose to the occasion.

"You had better take the lady as far as her own rooms," he