Till the Clock Stops | Page 7

am in your hands, Monsieur Guidet, for the clock shall not be started until I am gone."
"Gone?" The little man looked blank.
"Your clock is there to carry out the wishes of a dead man."
"Ah!" Guidet understood at last. All the happiness vanished from his face. He regarded this man, who had chosen him from a number of applicants responding to an advertisement, as his benefactor, his saviour. "But not soon, not soon!" he cried with emotion.
Christopher was touched. The little man seemed to care, though their acquaintance was not three months old. Still, they had met almost daily in the room assigned to Guidet for his work, and the patron had taken an interest in the man as well as his genius.
"I cannot tell how soon, my friend," he said, "but we need not talk of it. Now tell me, Guidet, how much do I owe you?"
Guidet wiped his eyes. "One hundred and thirty pounds," he murmured, "and I give you a thousand thanks, Mr. Craik."
"A hundred and thirty--that is the balance due on the clock itself?" inquired Christopher, filling in the date.
The other looked puzzled. "On everything, Mr. Craik."
"Don't you charge for your time?"
Guidet smiled and spread his hands. "Ah, you are not so unwell when you can make the jokes! Two hundred pounds was the price, and I have received seventy of it and the grandest, best holiday--"
"Your wife and children have had no holiday," said Christopher, continuing his writing.
"They have been happy that I am no longer a failure. They shall have a little holiday now, my best of friends, and then I take the small share in the business I told you about. Oh, it is all well with us, all rosy as a--a rose! But you!" His voice trailed off in a sigh.
"I am only sorry I shall not be your first customer, Guidet." Christopher blotted the cheque and handed it across the table. "So you must oblige me by accepting instead what I have written there."
The little man read the words--the figures--and gulped. Then his arms went out as if to embrace the man who sat smiling so very wearily. "It is too much--too much!" he cried, almost weeping. "You are rich, but why--why do you give me five hundred pounds?"
"Perhaps," said Christopher sadly, "that you may remember me kindly." His hand, now shaky, went up to check the other's flow of gratitude. "I'm afraid I must ask you to go now. I must rest--you understand?"
Guidet rose. "So long as we live," he said solemnly, "my family and I will not forget. And if it would give you longer life, Mr. Craik, I swear I would put this"--he held up the cheque--"into the fire."
"I thank you," said Christopher gravely, and just then Caw came in. "And now farewell."
CHAPTER III
It was dusky in the room when Caw brought tea to his master. Fitful gleams from the fire touched the latter's face, which had grown haggard. The Green Box was open again.
"Never mind the lights for the present," he said, as the servant's hand went to the switch. "Give me a cup of tea--nothing more--and sit down." He pointed to the chair recently occupied by the Frenchman. "I have something to say to you, Caw."
As he placed the tea on the table Caw winced slightly. "Mr. Craig," he said imploringly, "won't you have the doctor now?"
"Sit down," said Christopher a trifle irritably, "and pay attention to what I am about to say. Dr. Handyside," he proceeded, "cannot help me, and you can. In the first place, you have already given me your word to remain in my service for a year and a day after I am gone from here--in other words, until the clock stops."
"Yes, sir," said Caw in a low voice.
"And it is perfectly clear to you how and when you are to set the clock going?"
"By carefully cutting and removing the thread at the first hour of twelve following your--oh, sir, need you talk about it now?"
Christopher took a sip and set the cup down with a little clatter. "And in the event of my nephew, Mr. Alan Craig, returning within the year, you will serve him also as you would me, giving him all assistance and information in your power."
"Yes, sir."
"I have recommended you to him in a letter left with Mr. Harvie, the lawyer in Glasgow, to whom you registered the packet this afternoon. Mr. Harvie is acquainted with certain of my affairs, but not by any means all. It is not necessary that he should know all that you know or will know. I am leaving much to your discretion, Caw. You will find your instructions in this envelope.... Among other things, it is not my wish that you should live alone in this house, and until my nephew returns