The Short Stories: 'The Death That Lurks Unseen''

By J S Fletcher

Joseph Smith Fletcher was born on the 7th February 1863 in Halifax, West Yorkshire. At 8 months of age his clergyman father died and thereafter he was brought up by his grandmother on a farm near Pontefract.

After an education at Silcoates school in

• Language: English
• Publisher: Miniature Masterpieces
• Release date: Jun 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781835475317

Book preview

The Short Stories of J S Fletcher

Joseph Smith Fletcher was born on the 7th February 1863 in Halifax, West Yorkshire.  At 8 months of age his clergyman father died and thereafter he was brought up by his grandmother on a farm near Pontefract.

After an education at Silcoates school in Wakefield he studied law for a short time and then, aged 20, entered journalism as a sub-editor in London before returning to Yorkshire to work for various other papers.

His first published book, in 1879, was poetry.  Thus began a very prolific career as a writer but it was not until 1914 that Fletcher wrote the first of over a hundred detective novels.  Across his career he wrote in excess of 230 books across poetry, fiction, non-fiction as well as the many short stories for the periodicals of the day.

In 1927 he married the Irish writer Rosamund Langbridge with whom he had a son.

J S Fletcher died in Surrey on the 30th of January 1935.  He was 71.

Index of Contents

The Death That Lurks Unseen

Chapter I - Mr. Lazardoff, Traveller

Chapter II - The Porphry Box and Its Contents

Chapter III - Who Is Mr. Lazaroff?

Chapter IV - The Fate Of Mr. Troubetzkoy

Mine Host at Sea

Bottle-Nose

Young Mr. Merrill's Love Affair

The Spoils to the Victor

Dispossessed

Held for Ransom

Love's Way in Arcadia

A Shot in the Night

Diamond Cut Diamond

The Prince's Pearl

The Tiger Lily

Annie Maude from London Town

The Triumph of Thomasine

THE DEATH THAT LURKS UNSEEN

CHAPTER I

Mr. Lazardoff, Traveller

About seven o'clock in the evening of the 2lst of October, 188-, I landed at Hull from Rotterdam with a few shillings in my pocket and no apparent prospect of replacing them when they should have been spent on bare necessaries. A week earlier I had sailed from the same port in order to make personal application to a commercial house in Antwerp, with whose manager I bad been in communication for some little time previously. I had found it difficult to obtain suitable employment in my own country, and, as I possessed a good knowledge of French and German, it seemed to me that I might try my luck in some of the commercial centres of the Continent. I heard of a house which was in want of an English correspondence clerk, and after some negotiations by letter I determined on running over to Antwerp in order to settle matters definitely. I had an idea that if I presented myself in person I should have more chance of success than by writing a score of letters. Here, however, I was mistaken, for, after waiting two days for their decision, I was informed that the proprietors had decided upon engaging the services of another applicant.

It would have been folly to have remained in a strange country with no expectations and with such a small amount of money as was then in my possession, and I accordingly resolved to return to England at once. I bitterly regretted the loss of the two or three pounds which had been expended on my journey, and was only comforted by remembering that I had spent them in an honest endeavour to find work, and that I might have been successful after all, in which case the money would have been well laid out. But this thought, though all very well in theory, was anything but satisfactory when it came to be reduced to practice, for the fact remained that there I was in Hull with just five shillings and sixpence in my pocket, and no immediate prospect of earning more when that insignificant sum was spent. I walked away from the wharf in no pleasant or enviable mood, and I am afraid I almost encouraged myself in dark and gloomy thoughts. I remember wondering, with a sort of grim, cynical humour, how it was that a young man of two-and-twenty, strong, healthy, fairly well educated, and with three years' knowledge of commercial life, should find it so very bard to get on. I had then been six months out of work, owing to the failure of a company under which I bad held a clerkship, and I had exhausted all my small savings in endeavouring to find a new post. As I turned my last few shillings over I wondered if any stroke of good fortune would enable me soon to replace them with others. It would have to be soon, for I had absolutely no resources. I had sold or pledged most of my small belongings in order to raise my expenses from Leeds to Antwerp, and if I meant to return to Leeds that night from Hull a third-class ticket would cost almost the whole of my remaining capital. Yet what was there to do in Leeds if I returned? Why not remain in Hull over night, and have a look round in the morning? There were shipping offices there, mercantile offices, merchants' houses; surely I could find some employment amongst so many opportunities. It was worth attempting, at any rate; and I accordingly turned away from the station and retraced my steps towards the docks, intending to find some third-rate hotel where I could obtain cheap quarters for the night.

I was not very well acquainted with Hull at that time, but I remember passing along Whitefriargate and turning off to the right by a narrow street which led towards the great church in the market-place. It was very quiet there, for most of the houses seemed to be business establishments, and were closed for the night, and there were few people about. I walked along until I came to the back of the church. The wide piece of ground behind the west door was tenantless, but as I crossed it I saw the figure of a man hither and thither with quick, restless movements, as if he were a hound that seeks eagerly for the recovery of a lost trail. As I drew nearer to him I perceived that he ran with his head to the ground, for all the world like a dog that sniffs the wind, and I heard him muttering and talking to himself. He suddenly caught the sound of my footstep, and on the instant he stood erect, with his head slightly inclined to his shoulder, as though to listen. There was a lamp some thirty yards away, and as I crossed its thin stream of light he saw me. With a bound he was on me and had seized me by the lapels of my coat before I could put up an arm to keep him off. I uttered an angry exclamation and would have shaken him off, but he stopped me with a gesture.

No—no-no! he cried. I would not hurt you—I am not a robber. But tell me you have found it—you have found it, eh? I will give you—oh, any reward that you ask—only say you have found it!

I had taken a good look at this strange creature as he spoke. The faint lamplight showed me a tall, gaunt man of middle age, with fierce eyes gleaming from under an old hat, and a long, straggling beard of dead black hue flowing about his chest. I took him at first glance for a madman, and shook off his arm.

Let go! I said roughly. I haven't found anything.

You swear it? he cried. But I lost it hereabouts—it must have been hereabouts!

And he began to hunt again, circling round me like a terrier that smells a rat. I felt my curiosity rising.

Look here, I said, what is it you've lost? If you've really lost something, and it's so very valuable, I'll help you to find it. But I can't do that unless you tell me what it is, you know.

The man came back to my side, evidently trying to master his emotion. He lifted his shabby hat and I saw great beads of sweat lying thick on his forehead. He pulled out a handkerchief—a great red cotton affair—and rubbed it over his face.

Pouf! he said, I am losing my head—I am almost beside myself. I have lost a small parcel, a package, about as big as that—he indicated the size with his hands—and it is of the greatest importance that I should recover it. I had it safe over yonder—he pointed to the east corner of the church, where it abuts on the market-place—but when I came to the mouth of the street there—he indicated the street which I had just left—it was gone. It must be somewhere between those two points. I think I lost my head a little when I found it had disappeared, he said, smiting his forehead. I have been running up and down—I must look systematically.

Well, I'll help you, I said, feeling somewhat curious. Just a little package, you say, about that size?

Just a little box of that size, tied up in brown paper. Find it, my dear sir, and I'll—ah, you shall be rewarded, I promise you.

Show me what line you took in coming across here, I said, and then I will go one way while you follow the other. If you lost it in this square, it can't be far out of your line of march.

I came straight from yonder corner, he said, pointing towards the market-place, round the church there, and straight across here towards that lamp-post. I had it at the corner; when I reached the lamp-post it was gone,

I bade him go back to the corner and examine the ground carefully, while I returned towards the lamp-post. The light was dim and it was difficult to see anything on the flagged pavement, and ere I had gone many steps I had to have recourse to a box of matches which I happened to have in my pocket. Oddly enough, as I struck the first match and stared at the little belt of light which it made, my eyes fell on the man's package, lying close to my feet. I laughed at the vagaries of luck, and then, without troubling to pick it up, turned and gave a shrill whistle. The strange man was not thirty yards away, and on the instant he came running to my side. I struck another match.

Is that your box? I said, indicating the parcel at my feet. Now, if I had been struck by the man's behaviour and demeanour previously, I was simply astonished by his conduct when his eyes fell on the insignificant-looking little package revealed by the light of the match. He clutched at it as a hungry dog snatches at a bone, and hugged it to his breast with such a sigh of relief as I had never heard. Then, just as the match flickered and went out, I heard him gasp, and he grasped my arm and leaned his weight upon me. For a moment I thought he was going to faint, but he presently revived and stood erect again, though he still panted for breath. When he next spoke I scarcely recognised his voice; its tones had changed from nervous fear to extreme politeness.

I am more obliged to you, sir, than I can well say, he said. Pardon this momentary indisposition. I have passed through a very trying experience, and I fear my nerves are not what they once were. I shall be better presently. Do you mind giving me your arm across the square towards yonder lamp?

Somewhat dubious, but undoubtedly inquisitive, I gave him the help he asked for, and walked slowly to the street corner which I had left some ten minutes previously. There my companion paused, and in the full light of the lamp looked me carefully over, while I as carefully scrutinised him. I then found him to be a man of forty or forty-five years of age, tall, swarthy, black-bearded, keen of eye, and dressed in a large flowing cape of dark cloth, which completely enveloped him. Not an Englishman, I decided; and yet his English was perfect, and had no suspicion of a foreign accent in it.

I spoke of reward just now, he said, when he had completed his inspection of me; but, really, I scarcely know in what form to offer it to you. Of course, I couldn't see what you were in the dim light over there.

Oh, never mind, said I, laughing. I couldn't help thinking that he was trying to get out of his promise. That doesn't matter at all. Glad you've found your lost property. Good night.

I was moving away, but he laid a band on my arm.

Stop, he said, you don't go like that. If you had any idea of what a service you have done me—will you come and share my supper? he said, suddenly interrupting himself.

I reflected for a moment. Surely, I thought, there could be no harm in accepting the man's invitation. It would save my own pocket.

Thank you, I said. I shall be very pleased to do so.

That's all right, he said. Come—I am staying at the Station Hotel—you won't mind walking there with me?

Oh, not at all, said I.

Perhaps we had better introduce ourselves, he said, as we turned into Whitefriargate. I am Melchior Lazaroff.

There was something in the way he pronounced his name that made me think he must he some person of distinction. But the names were unknown to me; they were certainly strange to the commercial world, whatever they might be to the worlds of science, or art, or letters.

My name is Stephen Merrill, I said.

Well, Mr. Merrill, you have done me a great service. I perceive that you do not know me by name. You will know more of the name in a week or two. I have just returned to Europe from one of the most important explorations of Central Australia that has ever been attempted.

I am afraid I am very ignorant, I answered. But I have really been too much engaged in my own affairs lately to read the newspapers—except the advertisement columns, I added, with a grim laugh.

He gave me a keen look.

Oh! he said. Well you shall tell me all about that over our supper. Excuse me—I mean quite well by you—are you down on your luck, as you English say?

Pretty well so, I replied.

Mr. Lazaroff rubbed his hands.

I'm glad chance threw you in my way, he said. You've done me a greater service than you imagine, and I hope I shall be able to do something for you. But here we are at the hotel; I shall take you up to my room at once, and we will have a wash while supper is being served.

I perceived that the servants of the hotel knew Mr. Lazaroff, and had much respect for him. He divested himself of his sweeping cloak and shabby hat in the hall, and repealed a well-knit figure clad in a much-worn grey suit. If you had met him in the street, and judged him by his clothes, you would have said that he was either very poor or very rich. A poor man would have worn such clothes from necessity, a rich man might wear them from choice or whim, secure in his own position. I gathered that my host was a rich man; the bowing and subservient satellites who waited upon us at the hotel would not have paid so much attention to a poor one. Nor would a poor man have been able to afford such a meal as we presently sat down to. There were dishes of which I had never heard, and wines of which I had often heard but never tasted. I had fared somewhat poorly on board the Rotterdam steamer, and it suddenly dawned upon me, as I sat down to supper with Mr. Lazaroff, that I was ravenously hungry. I eyed the good fare with favour and felt thankful that I had been able to do my host a service.

We supped in a small, private room, and during the meal our conversation was chiefly of Mr. Lazaroff's travels. He appeared to have travelled in all quarters of the globe, and had amassed much out-of-the-way knowledge which to me was curious and interesting. A more table-companion I had never met, and I was genuinely sorry when the meal came to an end. We turned to the fire, and my host offered me a cigar which proved to be of an exceptionally fine brand. For a few minutes there was silence; then Mr. Lazaroff turned to me and with a peculiar smile said—

I daresay you're curious to know why I made so much to do over the loss of my little box to-night?

I am, rather, I answered.

You shall see the box, he said, and produced the brown paper package from the bosom of his coat. He unfolded two wrappings of paper and and exposed to view a third wrapping of waterproof cloth. When this was undone, there was an inner wrapping of silk, and when that fell away I saw a small box fashioned out of some material with which I was not acquainted. In size it resembled a fairly large cigar case; as regards appearance, it was one of the most elegant things I have ever set eyes on. Mr. Lazaroff did not hand it to me for closer inspection: he held it towards me and watched me narrowly while I gazed at it.

That's very beautiful, I said. I don't wonder you were concerned at thinking you had lost it. What's the material?

Porphyry. A beautiful piece of work, is it not? But it is not the little box itself, my dear sir, which is of such value; it is its contents. But even they are only valuable for me. However, he replaced the porphyry box in its various wrappings—you shall know more of this in time, I trust. Let us talk of yourself. Fill the glass. Now—tell me about your bad luck."

There was something winning, and at the same time commanding, about this man, and I soon found myself telling him freely of my recent doings, and particularly of the non-success which had attended my journey to Antwerp. When I had finished, he asked me several questions about my age, education, family, and so on, and the sat thinking silently for some moments. At last he looked up, giving me a sharp, straightforward glance.

Well, Mr. Merrill, he said, you have been of great service to me to-night, and I should like to return your good offices by serving you myself, so far as I can. I propose to remain in England—in London—for two or three months, in order to read a paper before the Royal Geographical Society. I want a secretary. Will you accept the post? You shall live with me, and your salary shall be twenty pounds a month, What do you say?

I say yes, most certainly, sir, I replied. Your offer is too good to be declined. I am much obliged to you—and I hope I shall be able to do all that you wish.

Your duties will not be heavy, he answered. "Well, now—when can you come to me. I go to London