Too Many Cousins

and lined face and spectacles made him appear considerably older. He had a long nose, unkindly reddened at the tip, washed-out grey eyes and a fretful mouth, and only a good forehead redeemed him from insignificance. A light overcoat, though the August weather was dry and warm, and a rolled umbrella beside the hat on Mr. Tuke’s table, completed the picture of a man to whom life was obviously replete with difficulties and forebodings.
He came forward with his hand outstretched.
“Mr. Harvey Tuke? This is indeed kind of you, Mr. Tuke.” His loose and rather moist hand enfolded Harvey’s. “They told me at your office that you were on holiday. I would not have dreamt of troubling you, but—well, the fact is, Mr. Tuke, I am seriously perturbed. Very seriously. Mrs. Shearsby and I have made a special journey to London —I obtained permission, with some difficulty, to desert my post for the day—our branch of Imperial Sansil, as no doubt you know, is engaged on work of the greatest national importance—but I said to Mrs.‘Shearsby—yes, yes, my dear? What is it? Eh? . . .Yes, yes, of course. This is Mr. Harvey Tuke, my dear,” said Mr. Shearsby, firmly underlining the obvious. “My wife, Mr. Tuke. . . . ”
Mr. Tuke, having rubbed his hand on his trouser, was studying Mrs. Mortimer Shearsby as she joined her husband and nudged him with her elbow to remind him of her presence. Though the shorter of the two, it was only by a few inches, for she was a tall woman. Harvey’s first impression of her was that she was also a handsome one. She had the good looks of well cut features—a short nose and upper lip, fine arched eyebrows, a pointed and determined chin. But her complexion, if left alone, would have been pasty, and her carefully waved hair was a nondescript brown. Art had been called in to enliven nature, and a lock over her forehead was bleached yellow. Behind rimless pince-nez pale grey eyes flitted about with quick little movements, like the eyes of a mouse or a bird. Unlike her husband, who wore a baggy tweed suit under his overcoat, Mrs. Shearsby was a thought overdressed. Her green coat and skirt, tailored to reveal a good figure, were set off by too many clips and bracelets, her little green hat was an exaggeration of a current mode, and her high-heeled shoes of patent leather were too smart for the costume and the occasion. Under her arm she carried an enormous green bag.
Her small gloved hand gripped Harvey’s more firmly than the chemist’s large one. Her quick eyes ran over him as he indicated chairs and offered a box of cigarettes. She took one with a little pouncing gesture and a faint giggle. Mortimer Shearsby shook his head.
“Thank you, I do not smoke. To return to the point,
Mr. Tuke, we are inflicting ourselves upon you——”
“One moment,” Harvey was holding a match for Mrs. Shearsby. “I can guess why you are here, Mr. Shearsby,” he went on, returning to his chair, “so we can save a lot of talk. But why come to me?”
Mortimer Shearsby did not appear to relish this summary procedure. He coughed and blinked behind his spectacles.
“Of course, I know your reputation, Mr. Tuke. I followed with the greatest interest the case of those big insurance frauds a few years ago. A scandalous affair. It opened my eyes, I can assure you. Your name was mentioned——”
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Tuke said impatiently. “I got into the wrong sort of papers in the wrong way, as my chief is always reminding me. But that sort of thing is not really my job, as you must know perfectly well. I am an official of a government department, not a detective. If you want help or advice about the recent events in which your family has been implicated, go to the police, or to a solicitor.”
The chemist blinked again, and cast a harassed glance at his wife. Mrs. Shearsby made no effort to help him. She drew in a delicate manner at her cigarette, her eyes flitting between her husband and Mr. Tuke. They were shrewd eyes, the latter thought, though her pince-nez, flashing with every movement, baffled his scrutiny.
“But—but you gave my cousin advice,” the chemist said. “Cecile Boulanger, I mean. It was Gecile who suggested that I should call on you.”
“It was to see Mile Boulanger that you came to London?”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Tuke. I had a letter from her yesterday which greatly perturbed me—I may say alarmed me. She told me of a deliberate attempt on her life.”
“Well, that is one view of the incident. Anyway, I suppose it recalled do your mind other misfortunes among your cousins?”
Mortimer Shearsby nodded vehemently. “I trust I am not a fanciful man, but Cecile’s news opened my eyes to most disturbing possibilities.” Mr. Shearsby, whose eyes seemed so often to be opened by the wickedness of the world, now wagged his head over this latest instance as vigorously as he had nodded it. “That was why I felt I must .see Cecile. It was most desirable that we should have a consultation. Mrs. Shearsby counselled reflection, but I had made up my mind. Once I have made up my mind, I am——”
“Pig-headed,” said his wife unexpectedly, with her little giggle. Her eyes met Mr. Tuke’s through their baffling lenses, and flickered away again.
The chemist smiled dutifully. “Your phrase, my dear,” he said. “Perhaps we mean the same thing. Anyhow, Mr. Tuke, I made the necessary arrangements—did I say I am engaged on work of the greatest national importance?——”
“You did. The sequence of deaths among your relatives had not perturbed you before?”
“No. No. I regarded them as sad and shocking coincidences. Nothing more.”
“Then yesterday you heard of Mile Boulanger’s alarming experience. That has caused you to change your mind about these coincidences. Your eyes are opened. Well, I have told you what you should do. Go to your lawyer, anyway.