The Man Who Knew · Chapter 9 (2/2)

“And give me up, too,” said the other, with a little laugh. “Oh, no, my dear Feltham. Listen; I will tell you something. A few weeks ago I had a very promising valet chauffeur just like you. He was an admirable man, and he was also a foreigner. I believe he was a Swede. He came to me under exactly the same circumstances as you arrived, and he received exactly the same instructions as you have received, which unfortunately he did not carry out to the letter. I caught him pilfering from me⁠—a few trinkets of no great value⁠—and, instead of the foolish fellow repenting, he blurted out the one fact which I did not wish him to know, and incidentally which I did not wish anybody in the world to know.

“He knew who I was. He had seen me in the West End and had discovered my identity. He even sought an interview with someone to whom it would have been inconvenient to have made known my⁠—character. I promised to find him another job, but he had already decided upon changing and had cut out an advertisement from a newspaper. I parted friendly with him, wished him luck, and he went off to interview his possible employer, smoking one of my cigarettes just as you are smoking⁠—and he threw it away, I have no doubt, just as you have thrown it away when it began to taste a little bitter.”

“Look here!” said the chauffeur, and scrambled to his feet. “If you try any monkey tricks with me⁠—”

Mr. Holland eyed him with interest.

“If you try any monkey tricks with me,” said the chauffeur thickly, “I’ll⁠—”

He pitched forward on his face and lay still.

Mr. Holland waited long enough to search his pockets, and then, stepping cautiously into the road, donned the chauffeur’s cap and goggles and set his car running swiftly southward.