The Empty House and Other Ghost Stories, page 129 by Algernon Blackwood
<< Return to Title Details & Download130
h otherwise young and inexperienced, Blake--thanks, or curses, to the police court training--knew more about common criminal blackguardism than most men of fifty, and he recognised that there was somewhere a suggestion of this undesirable world about the man. But there was more than this. There was something singular about him, something far out of the common, though for the life of him Blake could not say wherein it lay. The fellow was out of the ordinary, and in some very undesirable manner.
All this, that takes so long to describe, Blake saw with the first and second glance. The man at once began to speak in a quiet and respectful voice.
"Are you Mr. Blake?" he asked.
"I am."
"Mr. Arthur Blake?"
"Yes."
"Mr. Arthur Herbert Blake?" persisted the other, with emphasis on the middle name.
"That is my full name," Blake answered simply, adding, as he remembered his manners; "but won't you sit down, first, please?"
The man advanced with a curious sideways motion like a crab and took a seat on the edge of the sofa. He put his hat on the floor at his feet, but still kept the bag in his hand.
"I come to you from a well-wisher," he went on in oily tones, without lifting his eyes. Blake, in his mind, ran quickly over all the people he knew in New York who might possibly have sent such a man, while waiting for him to supply the name. But the man had come to a full stop and was waiting too.
"A well-wisher of mine?" repeated Blake, not knowing quite what else to say.
"Just so," replied the other, still with his eyes on the floor. "A well-wisher of yours."
"A man or--" he felt himself blushing, "or a woman?"
"That," said the man shortly, "I cannot tell you."
"You can't tell me!" exclaimed the other, wondering what was coming next, and who in the world this mysterious well-wisher could be who sent so discreet and mysterious a messenger.
"I cannot tell you the name," replied the man firmly. "Those are my ins