A Front of Brass by Fred M. White — Read

There was no help for it so far as Morton was concerned. The whole evening had been a series of humiliations for him. There was the consolation of knowing that sooner or later he would be able to re pay Hubert Grant, but that was a poor solace for his wounded vanity. And now here was another complication that worried him exceedingly. Who was the man with the ragged gray beard? How did he come into the picture? And why did Cardella chose such a messenger?

Morton dismissed a suspicion of blackmail. The seedy man could not have been after money, or he would have shown his hand. He had merely delivered his strange message and departed. The more Morton thought the matter over, the more uneasy he became. Perhaps he had better get away at once and see Cardella. Nothing could be gained by staying where he was. And Cardella might be in real need of his assistance. But how to get as far as Fairford without assistance was quite another matter. Perhaps it was possible to obtain some sort of conveyance in the village. If not it would be necessary to walk the whole distance along an unknown road, and at that time of night the task could not possibly be accomplished under the hour.