“Not yet. It may be that I shall when I leave here. You may be thinking what a fool I am to come here and tell you these startling things when you are so much younger and stronger than I. I should answer, if you asked me, that I have a permit to carry a revolver and that I have availed myself of it.”
Blandly he showed the other a .38 automatic Bayard pistol.
“You may be misjudged,” he said cordially. “If so I offer you the apology of a Swiss gentleman. But consider my position. Suppose we abide by the decision of the police.” He looked keenly at Anthony Trent, “Are you willing to leave it to them? Shall I call up Spring 3100?”
Kaufmann gave Trent the idea that he knew very much more about his life than he had so far admitted. There was a certainty about the man that veiled disquieting things. If he knew the Von Ecksteins and Dangerfield as he claimed, it was one of those unfortunate coincidences which life often provides to humble supercilious editors like Crosbeigh. Police investigation was a thing Trent feared greatly. Under cross-examination his defense would fall abjectly. It was no good to inquire how Kaufmann had found out that he had never offered an Australian check at his bank. It was sufficient that his charge was true.
“It is rather late to bother the police,” he said smiling.
Kaufmann breathed relief, “Ah,” he said genially, “we shall make excellent collaborators, I can see that. To-day is Tuesday. On Thursday at this hour I shall come with particulars of what I expect you to do for us?”
“Myself and my partners,” Kaufmann explained. “Yes, at this hour I shall come and you will serve your interest by doing in all things as I say. The alternative is to telephone police headquarters and say an elderly merchant from Zurich threatens you, slanders you, impels you to perform unpleasant offices.”
Kaufmann smiling benignly backed toward the door. He closed it behind him. A little later Anthony Trent saw him on the sidewalk five stories below.
He started as he heard footsteps behind him. It was Mrs. Kinney.
“I’m afraid it was,” he answered. “I want you to go up to Kennebago with me to-morrow afternoon. I shall take only my personal baggage. The furniture can wait. The apartment will be locked up.”