Читать книгу The Green Archer онлайн

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He walked to the window and stared moodily into the street. Presently he turned sharply.

"Savini, I'm telling you something. You've got a good job. Don't lose it. You're the only thing of your kind I've ever employed. You're slick and you're a liar, and you suit me. I took you from the gutter—don't forget it. I know that you're crook—you've never been anything but crook—but I engaged you because you're the kind of crook I wanted. Someone I knew all about. D'ye hear that? You'd been running with a gang of card-sharps when I picked you up, and the police were waiting their chance to gaol you. That's how I got to know all about you. When that detective came last night to question me about Creager, one of the first things he asked me was if I knew the kind of secretary I'd got out. You didn't know that, did you?"

Savini's face supplied the answer. The smooth olive of his skin had given way to a grey pallor.

"It's not the first time I'd heard of you," the old man went on remorselessly. "More'n a year ago the police chief—inspector, or whatever you call him—happened to be seeing me about a stick-pin one of the hotel servants had taken, and I got him to stop to lunch. I've always been friendly with the police. It pays. And whilst we were lunching in this very hotel he pointed you out to me—gave me your record. I suppose, when you had a note from me, you thought your prayers for easy money had been answered? They hadn't. You've been straight with me because the week after I employed you the gang was pinched, and you were glad for a hole to hide in."