Max Carrados

by Ernest Bramah

  THE COMEDY AT FOUNTAIN COTTAGE

  Carrados had rung up Mr Carlyle soon after the inquiry agent had reachedhis office in Bampton Street on a certain morning in April. Mr Carlyle'sface at once assumed its most amiable expression as he recognized hisfriend's voice.

  "Yes, Max," he replied, in answer to the call, "I am here and at the topof form, thanks. Glad to know that you are back from Trescoe. Isthere--anything?"

  "I have a couple of men coming in this evening whom you might like tomeet," explained Carrados. "Manoel the Zambesia explorer is one and theother an East-End slum doctor who has seen a few things. Do you care tocome round to dinner?"

  "Delighted," warbled Mr Carlyle, without a moment's consideration."Charmed. Your usual hour, Max?" Then the smiling complacence of hisface suddenly changed and the wire conveyed an exclamation of annoyance."I am really very sorry, Max, but I have just remembered that I have anengagement. I fear that I must deny myself after all."

  "Is it important?"

  "No," admitted Mr Carlyle. "Strictly speaking, it is not in the leastimportant; this is why I feel compelled to keep it. It is only to dinewith my niece. They have just got into an absurd doll's house of avilla at Groat's Heath and I had promised to go there this evening."

  "Are they particular to a day?"

  There was a moment's hesitation before Mr Carlyle replied.

  "I am afraid so, now it is fixed," he said. "To you, Max, it will beridiculous or incomprehensible that a third to dinner--and he only amiddle-aged uncle--should make a straw of difference. But I know that intheir bijou way it will be a little domestic event to Elsie--an addedanxiety in giving the butcher an order, an extra course for dinner,perhaps; a careful drilling of the one diminutive maid-servant, and sheis such a charming little woman--eh? Who, Max? No! No! I did not say themaid-servant; if I did it is the fault of this telephone. Elsie is sucha delightful little creature that, upon my soul, it would be too bad tofail her now."

  "Of course it would, you old humbug," agreed Carrados, with sympatheticlaughter in his voice. "Well, come to-morrow instead. I shall be alone."

  "Oh, besides, there is a special reason for going, which for the momentI forgot," explained Mr Carlyle, after accepting the invitation. "Elsiewishes for my advice with regard to her next-door neighbour. He is anelderly man of retiring disposition and he makes a practice of throwingkidneys over into her garden."

  "Kittens! Throwing kittens?"

  "No, no, Max. Kidneys. Stewed k-i-d-n-e-y-s. It is a little difficult toexplain plausibly over a badly vibrating telephone, I admit, but that iswhat Elsie's letter assured me, and she adds that she is in despair."

  "At all events it makes the lady quite independent of the butcher,Louis!"

  "I have no further particulars, Max. It may be a solitary diurnaloffering, or the sky may at times appear to rain kidneys. If it is amania the symptoms may even have become more pronounced and the man ispossibly showering beef-steaks across by this time. I will make fullinquiry and let you know."

  "Do," assented Carrados, in the same light-hearted spirit. "MrsNickleby's neighbourly admirer expressed his feelings by throwingcucumbers, you remember, but this man puts him completely in the shade."

  It had not got beyond the proportions of a jest to either of them whenthey rang off--one of those whimsical occurrences in real life thatsound so fantastic in outline. Carrados did not give the matter anotherthought until the next evening when his friend's arrival revived thesubject.

  "And the gentleman next door?" he inquired among his greetings. "Did thecustomary offering arrive while you were there?"

  "No," admitted Mr Carlyle, beaming pleasantly upon all the familiarappointments of the room, "it did not, Max. In fact, so diffident hasthe mysterious philanthropist become, that no one at Fountain Cottagehas been able to catch sight of him lately, although I am told thatScamp--Elsie's terrier--betrays a very self-conscious guilt andsuspiciously muddy paws every morning."

  "Fountain Cottage?"

  "That is the name of the toy villa."

  "Yes, but Fountain something, Groat's Heath--Fountain Court: wasn't thatwhere Metrobe----?"

  "Yes, yes, to be sure, Max. Metrobe the traveller, the writer andscientist----"

  "Scientist!"

  "Well, he took up spiritualism or something, didn't he? At any rate, helived at Fountain Court, an old red-brick house in a large neglectedgarden there, until his death a couple of years ago. Then, as Groat'sHeath had suddenly become a popular suburb with a tube railway, a landcompany acquired the estate, the house was razed to the ground and in atwinkling a colony of Noah's ark villas took its place. There is MetrobeRoad here, and Court Crescent there, and Mansion Drive and what not, andElsie's little place perpetuates another landmark."

  "I have Metrobe's last book there," said Carrados, nodding towards apoint on his shelves. "In fact he sent me a copy. 'The Flame beyond theDome' it is called--the queerest farrago of balderdash and metaphysicsimaginable. But what about the neighbour, Louis? Did you settle what wemight almost term 'his hash'?"

  "Oh, he is mad, of course. I advised her to make as little fuss about itas possible, seeing that the man lives next door and might becomeobjectionable, but I framed a note for her to send which will probablyhave a good effect."

  "Is he mad, Louis?"

  "Well, I don't say that he is strictly a lunatic, but there is obviouslya screw loose somewhere. He may carry indiscriminate benevolence towardsYorkshire terriers to irrational lengths. Or he may be a food specialistwith a grievance. In effect he is mad on at least that one point. Howelse are we to account for the circumstances?"

  "I was wondering," replied Carrados thoughtfully.

  "You suggest that he really may have a sane object?"

  "I suggest it--for the sake of argument. If he has a sane object, whatis it?"

  "That I leave to you, Max," retorted Mr Carlyle conclusively. "If he hasa sane object, pray what is it?"

  "For the sake of the argument I will tell you that in half-a-dozenwords, Louis," replied Carrados, with good-humoured tolerance. "If he isnot mad in the sense which you have defined, the answer stares us in theface. His object is precisely that which he is achieving."

  Mr Carlyle looked inquiringly into the placid, unemotional face of hisblind friend, as if to read there whether, incredible as it might seem,Max should be taking the thing seriously after all.

  "And what is that?" he asked cautiously.

  "In the first place he has produced the impression that he is eccentricor irresponsible. That is sometimes useful in itself. Then what else hashe done?"

  "What else, Max?" replied Mr Carlyle, with some indignation. "Well,whatever he wishes to achieve by it I can tell you one thing else thathe has done. He has so demoralized Scamp with his confounded kidneysthat Elsie's neatly arranged flower-beds--and she took Fountain Cottageprincipally on account of an unusually large garden--are hopelesslydevastated. If she keeps the dog up, the garden is invaded night and dayby an army of peregrinating feline marauders that scent the booty fromafar. He has gained the everlasting annoyance of an otherwise charmingneighbour, Max. Can you tell me what he has achieved by that?"

  "The everlasting esteem of Scamp probably. Is he a good watch-dog,Louis?"

  "Good heavens, Max!" exclaimed Mr Carlyle, coming to his feet as thoughhe had the intention of setting out for Groat's Heath then and there,"is it possible that he is planning a burglary?"

  "Do they keep much of value about the house?"

  "No," admitted Mr Carlyle, sitting down again with considerable relief."No, they don't. Bellmark is not particularly well endowed with worldlygoods--in fact, between ourselves, Max, Elsie could have done very muchbetter from a strictly social point of view, but he is a thoroughly goodfellow and idolizes her. They have no silver worth speaking of, and forthe rest--well, just the ordinary petty cash of a frugal young couple."

  "Then he probably is not planning a burglary. I confess that the ideadid not appeal to me. If it is only that, why should he g
o to thetrouble of preparing this particular succulent dish to throw over hisneighbour's ground when cold liver would do quite as well?"

  "If it is not only that, why should he go to the trouble, Max?"

  "Because by that bait he produces the greatest disturbance of yourniece's garden."

  "And, if sane, why should he wish to do that?"

  "Because in those conditions he can the more easily obliterate his owntraces if he trespasses there at nights."

  "Well, upon my word, that's drawing a bow at a venture, Max. If it isn'tburglary, what motive could the man have for any such nocturnalperambulation?"

  An expression of suave mischief came into Carrados's usuallyimperturbable face.

  "Many imaginable motives surely, Louis. You are a man of the world. Whynot to meet a charming little woman----"

  "No, by gad!" exclaimed the scandalized uncle warmly; "I decline toconsider the remotest possibility of that explanation. Elsie----"

  "Certainly not," interposed Carrados, smothering his quiet laughter."The maid-servant, of course."

  Mr Carlyle reined in his indignation and recovered himself with hisusual adroitness.

  "But, you know, that is an atrocious libel, Max," he added. "I neversaid such a thing. However, is it probable?"

  "No," admitted Carrados. "I don't think that in the circumstances it isat all probable."

  "Then where are we, Max?"

  "A little further than we were at the beginning. Very little.... Are youwilling to give me a roving commission to investigate?"

  "Of course, Max, of course," assented Mr Carlyle heartily. "I--well, asfar as I was concerned, I regarded the matter as settled."

  Carrados turned to his desk and the ghost of a smile might possibly havelurked about his face. He produced some stationery and indicated it tohis visitor.

  "You don't mind giving me a line of introduction to your niece?"

  "Pleasure," murmured Carlyle, taking up a pen. "What shall I say?"

  Carrados took the inquiry in its most literal sense and for reply hedictated the following letter:--

  "'MY DEAR ELSIE,'--

  "If that is the way you usually address her," he parenthesized.

  "Quite so," acquiesced Mr Carlyle, writing.

  "'The bearer of this is Mr Carrados, of whom I have spoken to you.'

  "You have spoken of me to her, I trust, Louis?" he put in.

  "I believe that I have casually referred to you," admitted the writer.

  "I felt sure you would have done. It makes the rest easier.

  "'He is not in the least mad although he frequently does things which to the uninitiated appear more or less eccentric at the moment. I think that you would be quite safe in complying with any suggestion he may make.

  "'Your affectionate uncle,

  "'LOUIS CARLYLE.'"

  He accepted the envelope and put it away in a pocket-book that alwaysseemed extraordinarily thin for the amount of papers it contained.

  "I may call there to-morrow," he added.

  Neither again referred to the subject during the evening, but whenParkinson came to the library a couple of hours after midnight to knowwhether he would be required again, he found his master rather deeplyimmersed in a book and a gap on the shelf where "The Flame beyond theDome" had formerly stood.

  It is not impossible that Mr Carlyle supplemented his brief note ofintroduction with a more detailed communication that reached his nieceby the ordinary postal service at an earlier hour than the other. At allevents, when Mr Carrados presented himself at the toy villa on thefollowing afternoon he found Elsie Bellmark suspiciously disposed toaccept him and his rather gratuitous intervention among her suburbantroubles as a matter of course.

  When the car drew up at the bright green wooden gate of Fountain Cottageanother visitor, apparently a good-class working man, was standing onthe path of the trim front garden, lingering over a reluctant departure.Carrados took sufficient time in alighting to allow the man to passthrough the gate before he himself entered. The last exchange ofsentences reached his ear.

  "I'm sure, marm, you won't find anyone to do the work at less."

  "I can quite believe that," replied a very fair young lady who stoodnearer the house, "but, you see, we do all the gardening ourselves,thank you."

  Carrados made himself known and was taken into the daintily prettydrawing-room that opened on to the lawn behind the house.

  "I do not need to ask if you are Mrs Bellmark," he had declared.

  "I have Uncle Louis's voice?" she divined readily.

  "The niece of his voice, so to speak," he admitted. "Voices mean a greatdeal to me, Mrs Bellmark."

  "In recognizing and identifying people?" she suggested.

  "Oh, very much more than that. In recognizing and identifying theirmoods--their thoughts even. There are subtle lines of trouble and thedeep rings of anxious care quite as patent to the ear as to thesharpest eye sometimes."

  Elsie Bellmark shot a glance of curiously interested speculation to theface that, in spite of its frank, open bearing, revealed so marvellouslylittle itself.

  "If I had any dreadful secret, I think that I should be a little afraidto talk to you, Mr Carrados," she said, with a half-nervous laugh.

  "Then please do not have any dreadful secret," he replied, with quiteyouthful gallantry. "I more than suspect that Louis has given you a verytranspontine idea of my tastes. I do not spend all my time trackingmurderers to their lairs, Mrs Bellmark, and I have never yet engaged ina hand-to-hand encounter with a band of cut-throats."

  "He told us," she declared, the recital lifting her voice into a tonethat Carrados vowed to himself was wonderfully thrilling, "about this:He said that you were once in a sort of lonely underground cellar nearthe river with two desperate men whom you could send to penal servitude.The police, who were to have been there at a certain time, had notarrived, and you were alone. The men had heard that you were blind butthey could hardly believe it. They were discussing in whispers whichcould not be overheard what would be the best thing to do, and they hadjust agreed that if you really were blind they would risk the attempt tomurder you. Then, Louis said, at that very moment you took a pair ofscissors from your pocket, and coolly asking them why they did not havea lamp down there, you actually snuffed the candle that stood on thetable before you. Is that true?"

  Carrados's mind leapt vividly back to the most desperate moment of hisexistence, but his smile was gently deprecating as he replied:

  "I seem to recognize the touch of truth in the inclination to do_anything_ rather than fight," he confessed. "But, although he neversuspects it, Louis really sees life through rose-coloured opera glasses.Take the case of your quite commonplace neighbour----"

  "That is really what you came about?" she interposed shrewdly.

  "Frankly, it is," he replied. "I am more attracted by a turn of the oddand grotesque than by the most elaborate tragedy. The fantastic conceitof throwing stewed kidneys over into a neighbour's garden irresistiblyappealed to me. Louis, as I was saying, regards the man in the romanticlight of a humanitarian monomaniac or a demented food reformer. I take amore subdued view and I think that his action, when rightly understood,will prove to be something quite obviously natural."

  "Of course it is very ridiculous, but all the same it has beendesperately annoying," she confessed. "Still, it scarcely matters now. Iam only sorry that it should have been the cause of wasting yourvaluable time, Mr Carrados."

  "My valuable time," he replied, "only seems valuable to me when I am,as you would say, wasting it. But is the incident closed? Louis told methat he had drafted you a letter of remonstrance. May I ask if it hasbeen effective?"

  Instead of replying at once she got up and walked to the long Frenchwindow and looked out over the garden where the fruit-trees that hadbeen spared from the older cultivation were rejoicing the eye with thepromise of their pink and white profusion.

  "I did not send it," she
said slowly, turning to her visitor again."There is something that I did not tell Uncle Louis, because it wouldonly have distressed him without doing any good. We may be leaving herevery soon."

  "Just when you had begun to get it well in hand?" he said, in somesurprise.

  "It is a pity, is it not, but one cannot foresee these things. There isno reason why you should not know the cause, since you have interestedyourself so far, Mr Carrados. In fact," she added, smiling away theseriousness of the manner into which she had fallen, "I am not at allsure that you do not know already."

  He shook his head and disclaimed any such prescience.

  "At all events you recognized that I was not exactly light-hearted," sheinsisted. "Oh, you did not say that _I_ had dark rings under my eyes, Iknow, but the cap fitted excellently.... It has to do with my husband'sbusiness. He is with a firm of architects. It was a little venturesometaking this house--we had been in apartments for two years--but Roy wasdoing so well with his people and I was so enthusiastic for a gardenthat we did--scarcely two months ago. Everything seemed quite assured.Then came this thunderbolt. The partners--it is only a small firm, MrCarrados--required a little more capital in the business. Someone whomthey know is willing to put in two thousand pounds, but he stipulatesfor a post with them as well. He, like my husband, is a draughtsman.There is no need for the services of both and so----"

  "Is it settled?"

  "In effect, it is. They are as nice as can be about it but that does notalter the facts. They declare that they would rather have Roy than thenew man and they have definitely offered to retain him if he can bringin even one thousand pounds. I suppose they have some sort ofcompunction about turning him adrift, for they have asked him to thinkit over and let them know on Monday. Of course, that is the end of it.It may be--I don't know--I don't like to think, how long before Roy getsanother position equally good. We must endeavour to get this house offour hands and creep back to our three rooms. It is ... luck."

  Carrados had been listening to her wonderfully musical voice as anotherman might have been drawn irresistibly to watch the piquant charm of herdelicate face.

  "Yes," he assented, almost to himself, "it is that strange, inexplicablegrouping of men and things that, under one name or another, we allconfess ... just luck."

  "Of course you will not mention this to Uncle Louis yet, Mr Carrados?"

  "If you do not wish it, certainly not."

  "I am sure that it would distress him. He is so soft-hearted, so kind,in everything. Do you know, I found out that he had had an invitation todine somewhere and meet some quite important people on Tuesday. Yet hecame here instead, although most other men would have cried off, justbecause he knew that we small people would have been disappointed."

  "Well, you can't expect me to see any self-denial in that," exclaimedCarrados. "Why, I was one of them myself."

  Elsie Bellmark laughed outright at the expressive disgust of his tone.

  "I had no idea of that," she said. "Then there is another reason. Uncleis not very well off, yet if he knew how Roy was situated he would makean effort to arrange matters. He would, I am sure, even borrow himselfin order to lend us the money. That is a thing Roy and I are quiteagreed on. We will go back; we will go under, if it is to be; but wewill not borrow money, not even from Uncle Louis."

  Once, subsequently, Carrados suddenly asked Mr Carlyle whether he hadever heard a woman's voice roll like a celestial kettle-drum. Theprofessional gentleman was vastly amused by the comparison, but headmitted that he had not.

  "So that, you see," concluded Mrs Bellmark, "there is really nothing tobe done."

  "Oh, quite so; I am sure that you are right," assented her visitorreadily. "But in the meanwhile I do not see why the annoyance of yournext-door neighbour should be permitted to go on."

  "Of course: I have not told you that, and I could not explain it touncle," she said. "I am anxious not to do anything to put him outbecause I have a hope--rather a faint one, certainly--that the man maybe willing to take over this house."

  It would be incorrect to say that Carrados pricked up his ears--if thatcurious phenomenon has any physical manifestation--for the sympatheticexpression of his face did not vary a fraction. But into his mind therecame a gleam such as might inspire a patient digger who sees the firstspeck of gold that justifies his faith in an unlikely claim.

  "Oh," he said, quite conversationally, "is there a chance of that?"

  "He undoubtedly did want it. It is very curious in a way. A few weeksago, before we were really settled, he came one afternoon, saying he hadheard that this house was to be let. Of course I told him that he wastoo late, that we had already taken it for three years."

  "You were the first tenants?"

  "Yes. The house was scarcely ready when we signed the agreement. Thenthis Mr Johns, or Jones--I am not sure which he said--went on in arather extraordinary way to persuade me to sublet it to him. He saidthat the house was dear and I could get plenty, more convenient, at lessrent, and it was unhealthy, and the drains were bad, and that we shouldbe pestered by tramps and it was just the sort of house that burglarspicked on, only he had taken a sort of fancy to it and he would give mea fifty-pound premium for the term."

  "Did he explain the motive for this rather eccentric partiality?"

  "I don't imagine that he did. He repeated several times that he was aqueer old fellow with his whims and fancies and that they often cost himdear."

  "I think we all know that sort of old fellow," said Carrados. "It musthave been rather entertaining for you, Mrs Bellmark."

  "Yes, I suppose it was," she admitted. "The next thing we knew of himwas that he had taken the other house as soon as it was finished."

  "Then he would scarcely require this?"

  "I am afraid not." It was obvious that the situation was not disposedof. "But he seems to have so little furniture there and to live sosolitarily," she explained, "that we have even wondered whether he mightnot be there merely as a sort of caretaker."

  "And you have never heard where he came from or who he is?"

  "Only what the milkman told my servant--our chief source of localinformation, Mr Carrados. He declares that the man used to be the butlerat a large house that stood here formerly, Fountain Court, and that hisname is neither Johns nor Jones. But very likely it is all a mistake."

  "If not, he is certainly attached to the soil," was her visitor'srejoinder. "And, apropos of that, will you show me over your gardenbefore I go, Mrs Bellmark?"

  "With pleasure," she assented, rising also. "I will ring now and then Ican offer you tea when we have been round. That is, if you----?"

  "Thank you, I do," he replied. "And would you allow my man to go throughinto the garden--in case I require him?"

  "Oh, certainly. You must tell me just what you want without thinking itnecessary to ask permission, Mr Carrados," she said, with a pretty airof protection. "Shall Amy take a message?"

  He acquiesced and turned to the servant who had appeared in response tothe bell.

  "Will you go to the car and tell my man--Parkinson--that I require himhere. Say that he can bring his book; he will understand."

  "Yes, sir."

  They stepped out through the French window and sauntered across thelawn. Before they had reached the other side Parkinson reported himself.

  "You had better stay here," said his master, indicating the swardgenerally. "Mrs Bellmark will allow you to bring out a chair from thedrawing-room."

  "Thank you, sir; there is a rustic seat already provided," repliedParkinson.

  He sat down with his back to the houses and opened the book that he hadbrought. Let in among its pages was an ingeniously contrived mirror.

  When their promenade again brought them near the rustic seat Carradosdropped a few steps behind.

  "He is watching you from one of the upper rooms, sir," fell fromParkinson's lips as he sat there without raising his eyes from the pagebefore him.

  The blind man caught up to his hostess again.


  "You intended this lawn for croquet?" he asked.

  "No; not specially. It is too small, isn't it?"

  "Not necessarily. I think it is in about the proportion of four by fiveall right. Given that, size does not really matter for anunsophisticated game."

  To settle the point he began to pace the plot of ground, across and thenlengthways. Next, apparently dissatisfied with this rough measurement,he applied himself to marking it off more exactly by means of hiswalking-stick. Elsie Bellmark was by no means dull but the action sprangso naturally from the conversation that it did not occur to her to lookfor any deeper motive.

  "He has got a pair of field-glasses and is now at the window,"communicated Parkinson.

  "I am going out of sight," was the equally quiet response. "If hebecomes more anxious tell me afterwards."

  "It is quite all right," he reported, returning to Mrs Bellmark with thesatisfaction of bringing agreeable news. "It should make a splendidlittle ground, but you may have to level up a few dips after the earthhas set."

  A chance reference to the kitchen garden by the visitor took them to amore distant corner of the enclosure where the rear of Fountain Cottagecut off the view from the next house windows.

  "We decided on this part for vegetables because it does not reallybelong to the garden proper," she explained. "When they build farther onthis side we shall have to give it up very soon. And it would be a pityif it was all in flowers."

  With the admirable spirit of the ordinary Englishwoman, she spoke ofthe future as if there was no cloud to obscure its prosperous course.She had frankly declared their position to her uncle's best friendbecause in the circumstances it had seemed to be the simplest and moststraightforward thing to do; beyond that, there was no need to whineabout it.

  "It is a large garden," remarked Carrados. "And you really do all thework of it yourselves?"

  "Yes; I think that is half the fun of a garden. Roy is out here earlyand late and he does all the hard work. But how did you know? Did uncletell you?"

  "No; you told me yourself."

  "I? Really?"

  "Indirectly. You were scorning the proffered services of a horticulturalmercenary at the moment of my arrival."

  "Oh, I remember," she laughed. "It was Irons, of course. He is a greatnuisance, he is so stupidly persistent. For some weeks now he has beencoming time after time, trying to persuade me to engage him. Once whenwe were all out he had actually got into the garden and was on the pointof beginning work when I returned. He said he saw the milkmen and thegrocers leaving samples at the door so he thought that he would too!"

  "A practical jester evidently. Is Mr Irons a local character?"

  "He said that he knew the ground and the conditions round about herebetter than anyone else in Groat's Heath," she replied. "Modesty is notamong Mr Irons's handicaps. He said that he----How curious!"

  "What is, Mrs Bellmark?"

  "I never connected the two men before, but he said that he had beengardener at Fountain Court for seven years."

  "Another family retainer who is evidently attached to the soil."

  "At all events they have not prospered equally, for while Mr Johns seemsable to take a nice house, poor Irons is willing to work forhalf-a-crown a day, and I am told that all the other men charge fourshillings."

  They had paced the boundaries of the kitchen garden, and as there wasnothing more to be shown Elsie Bellmark led the way back to thedrawing-room. Parkinson was still engrossed in his book, the only changebeing that his back was now turned towards the high paling ofclinker-built oak that separated the two gardens.

  "I will speak to my man," said Carrados, turning aside.

  "He hurried down and is looking through the fence, sir," reported thewatcher.

  "That will do then. You can return to the car."

  "I wonder if you would allow me to send you a small hawthorn-tree?"inquired Carrados among his felicitations over the teacups five minuteslater. "I think it ought to be in every garden."

  "Thank you--but is it worth while?" replied Mrs Bellmark, with a touchof restraint. As far as mere words went she had been willing to ignorethe menace of the future, but in the circumstances the offer seemedsingularly inept and she began to suspect that outside his peculiargifts the wonderful Mr Carrados might be a little bit obtuse after all.

  "Yes; I think it is," he replied, with quiet assurance.

  "In spite of----?"

  "I am not forgetting that unless your husband is prepared on Monday nextto invest one thousand pounds you contemplate leaving here."

  "Then I do not understand it, Mr Carrados."

  "And I am unable to explain as yet. But I brought you a note from LouisCarlyle, Mrs Bellmark. You only glanced at it. Will you do me the favourof reading me the last paragraph?"

  She picked up the letter from the table where it lay and complied withcheerful good-humour.

  "There is some suggestion that you want me to accede to," she guessedcunningly when she had read the last few words.

  "There are some three suggestions which I hope you will accede to," hereplied. "In the first place I want you to write to Mr Johns nextdoor--let him get the letter to-night--inquiring whether he is stilldisposed to take this house."

  "I had thought of doing that shortly."

  "Then that is all right. Besides, he will ultimately decline."

  "Oh," she exclaimed--it would be difficult to say whether with relief ordisappointment--"do you think so? Then why----"

  "To keep him quiet in the meantime. Next I should like you to send alittle note to Mr Irons--your maid could deliver it also to-night, Idare say?"

  "Irons! Irons the gardener?"

  "Yes," apologetically. "Only a line or two, you know. Just saying that,after all, if he cares to come on Monday you can find him a few days'work."

  "But in any circumstances I don't want him."

  "No; I can quite believe that you could do better. Still, it doesn'tmatter, as he won't come, Mrs Bellmark; not for half-a-crown a day,believe me. But the thought will tend to make Mr Irons less restivealso. Lastly, will you persuade your husband not to decline his firm'soffer until Monday?"

  "Very well, Mr Carrados," she said, after a moment's consideration. "Youare Uncle Louis's friend and therefore our friend. I will do what youask."

  "Thank you," said Carrados. "I shall endeavour not to disappoint you."

  "I shall not be disappointed because I have not dared to hope. And Ihave nothing to expect because I am still completely in the dark."

  "I have been there for nearly twenty years, Mrs Bellmark."

  "Oh, I am sorry!" she cried impulsively.

  "So am I--occasionally," he replied. "Good-bye, Mrs Bellmark. You willhear from me shortly, I hope. About the hawthorn, you know."

  It was, indeed, in something less than forty-eight hours that she heardfrom him again. When Bellmark returned to his toy villa early onSaturday afternoon Elsie met him almost at the gate with a telegram inher hand.

  "I really think, Roy, that everyone we have to do with here goes mad,"she exclaimed, in tragi-humorous despair. "First it was Mr Johns orJones--if he is Johns or Jones--and then Irons who wanted to work herefor half of what he could get at heaps of places about, and now justlook at this wire that came from Mr Carrados half-an-hour ago."

  This was the message that he read:

  _Please procure sardine tin opener mariner's compass and bottle of champagne. Shall arrive 6.45 bringing Crataegus Coccinea._--CARRADOS.

  "Could anything be more absurd?" she demanded.

  "Sounds as though it was in code," speculated her husband. "Who's theforeign gentleman he's bringing?"

  "Oh, that's a kind of special hawthorn--I looked it up. But a bottle ofchampagne, and a compass, and a sardine tin opener! What possibleconnexion is there between them?"

  "A very resourceful man might uncork a bottle of champagne with asardine tin opener," he suggested.

  "And find his way home afterwards by means of a mariner's comp
ass?" sheretorted. "No, Roy dear, you are not a sleuth-hound. We had better haveour lunch."

  They lunched, but if the subject of Carrados had been tabooed the mealwould have been a silent one.

  "I have a compass on an old watch-chain somewhere," volunteeredBellmark.

  "And I have a tin opener in the form of a bull's head," contributedElsie.

  "But we have no champagne, I suppose?"

  "How could we have, Roy? We never have had any. Shall you mind goingdown to the shops for a bottle?"

  "You really think that we ought?"

  "Of course we must, Roy. We don't know what mightn't happen if wedidn't. Uncle Louis said that they once failed to stop a jewel robberybecause the jeweller neglected to wipe his shoes on the shop doormat,as Mr Carrados had told him to do. Suppose Johns is a desperateanarchist and he succeeded in blowing up Buckingham Palace becausewe----"

  "All right. A small bottle, eh?"

  "No. A large one. Quite a large one. Don't you see how exciting it isbecoming?"

  "If you are excited already you don't need much champagne," argued herhusband.

  Nevertheless he strolled down to the leading wine-shop after lunch andreturned with his purchase modestly draped in the light summer overcoatthat he carried on his arm. Elsie Bellmark, who had quite abandoned herprevious unconcern, in the conviction that "something was going tohappen," spent the longest afternoon that she could remember, and evenBellmark, in spite of his continual adjurations to her to "look at thematter logically," smoked five cigarettes in place of his usual Saturdayafternoon pipe and neglected to do any gardening.

  At exactly six-forty-five a motor car was heard approaching. Elsie madea desperate rally to become the self-possessed hostess again. Bellmarkwas favourably impressed by such marked punctuality. Then a RegentStreet delivery van bowled past their window and Elsie almost wept.

  The suspense was not long, however. Less than five minutes later anothervehicle raised the dust of the quiet suburban road, and this time aprivate car stopped at their gate.

  "Can you see any policemen inside?" whispered Elsie.

  Parkinson got down and opening the door took out a small tree which hecarried up to the porch and there deposited. Carrados followed.

  "At all events there isn't much wrong," said Bellmark. "He's smiling allthe time."

  "No, it isn't really a smile," explained Elsie; "it's his normalexpression."

  She went out into the hall just as the front door was opened.

  "It is the 'Scarlet-fruited thorn' of North America," Bellmark heard thevisitor remarking. "Both the flowers and the berries are wonderfullygood. Do you think that you would permit me to choose the spot for it,Mrs Bellmark?"

  Bellmark joined them in the hall and was introduced.

  "We mustn't waste any time," he suggested. "There is very little lightleft."

  "True," agreed Carrados. "And Coccinea requires deep digging."

  They walked through the house, and turning to the right passed into theregion of the vegetable garden. Carrados and Elsie led the way, theblind man carrying the tree, while Bellmark went to his outhouse for therequired tools.

  "We will direct our operations from here," said Carrados, when they werehalf-way along the walk. "You told me of a thin iron pipe that you hadtraced to somewhere in the middle of the garden. We must locate the endof it exactly."

  "My rosary!" sighed Elsie, with premonition of disaster, when she haddetermined the spot as exactly as she could. "Oh, Mr Carrados!"

  "I am sorry, but it might be worse," said Carrados inflexibly. "We onlyrequire to find the elbow-joint. Mr Bellmark will investigate with aslittle disturbance as possible."

  For five minutes Bellmark made trials with a pointed iron. Then hecleared away the soil of a small circle and at about a foot deep exposeda broken inch pipe.

  "The fountain," announced Carrados, when he had examined it. "You havethe compass, Mr Bellmark?"

  "Rather a small one," admitted Bellmark.

  "Never mind, you are a mathematician. I want you to strike a line dueeast."

  The reel and cord came into play and an adjustment was finally made fromthe broken pipe to a position across the vegetable garden.

  "Now a point nine yards, nine feet and nine inches along it."

  "My onion bed!" cried Elsie tragically.

  "Yes; it is really serious this time," agreed Carrados. "I want a hole ayard across, digging here. May we proceed?"

  Elsie remembered the words of her uncle's letter--or what she imaginedto be his letter--and possibly the preamble of selecting the spot hadimpressed her.

  "Yes, I suppose so. Unless," she added hopefully, "the turnip bed willdo instead? They are not sown yet."

  "I am afraid that nowhere else in the garden will do," replied Carrados.

  Bellmark delineated the space and began to dig. After clearing to abouta foot deep he paused.

  "About deep enough, Mr Carrados?" he inquired.

  "Oh, dear no," replied the blind man.

  "I am two feet down," presently reported the digger.

  "Deeper!" was the uncompromising response.

  Another six inches were added and Bellmark stopped to rest.

  "A little more and it won't matter which way up we plant Coccinea," heremarked.

  "That is the depth we are aiming for," replied Carrados.

  Elsie and her husband exchanged glances. Then Bellmark drove his spadethrough another layer of earth.

  "Three feet," he announced, when he had cleared it.

  Carrados advanced to the very edge of the opening.

  "I think that if you would loosen another six inches with the fork wemight consider the ground prepared," he decided.

  Bellmark changed his tools and began to break up the soil. Presently thesteel prongs grated on some obstruction.

  "Gently," directed the blind watcher. "I think you will find ahalf-pound cocoa tin at the end of your fork."

  "Well, how on earth you spotted that----!" was wrung from Bellmarkadmiringly, as he cleared away the encrusting earth. "But I believe youare about right." He threw up the object to his wife, who was risking acatastrophe in her eagerness to miss no detail. "Anything in it besidessoil, Elsie?"

  "She cannot open it yet," remarked Carrados. "It is soldered down."

  "Oh, I say," protested Bellmark.

  "It is perfectly correct, Roy. The lid is soldered on."

  They looked at each other in varying degrees of wonder and speculation.Only Carrados seemed quite untouched.

  "Now we may as well replace the earth," he remarked.

  "Fill it all up again?" asked Bellmark.

  "Yes; we have provided a thoroughly disintegrated subsoil. That is thegreat thing. A depth of six inches is sufficient merely for the roots."

  There was only one remark passed during the operation.

  "I think I should plant the tree just over where the tin was," Carradossuggested. "You might like to mark the exact spot." And there thehawthorn was placed.

  Bellmark, usually the most careful and methodical of men, left the toolswhere they were, in spite of a threatening shower. Strangely silent,Elsie led the way back to the house and taking the men into thedrawing-room switched on the light.

  "I think you have a tin opener, Mrs Bellmark?"

  Elsie, who had been waiting for him to speak, almost jumped at thesimple inquiry. Then she went into the next room and returned with thebull-headed utensil.

  "Here it is," she said, in a voice that would have amused her at anyother time.

  "Mr Bellmark will perhaps disclose our find."

  Bellmark put the soily tin down on Elsie's best table-cover withouteliciting a word of reproach, grasped it firmly with his left hand, andworked the opener round the top.

  "Only paper!" he exclaimed, and without touching the contents he passedthe tin into Carrados's hands.

  The blind man dexterously twirled out a little roll that crinkledpleasantly to the ear, and began counting the leaves with a steadyfinger.
/>   "They're bank-notes!" whispered Elsie in an awestruck voice. She caughtsight of a further detail. "Bank-notes for a hundred pounds each. Andthere are dozens of them!"

  "Fifty, there should be," dropped Carrados between his figures."Twenty-five, twenty-six----"

  "Good God," murmured Bellmark; "that's five thousand pounds!"

  "Fifty," concluded Carrados, straightening the edges of the sheaf. "Itis always satisfactory to find that one's calculations are exact." Hedetached the upper ten notes and held them out. "Mrs Bellmark, will youaccept one thousand pounds as a full legal discharge of any claim thatyou may have on this property?"

  "Me--I?" she stammered. "But I have no right to any in anycircumstances. It has nothing to do with us."

  "You have an unassailable moral right to a fair proportion, becausewithout you the real owners would never have seen a penny of it. Asregards your legal right"--he took out the thin pocket-book andextracting a business-looking paper spread it open on the table beforethem--"here is a document that concedes it. 'In consideration of thevaluable services rendered by Elsie Bellmark, etc., etc., in causing tobe discovered and voluntarily surrendering the sum of five thousandpounds deposited and not relinquished by Alexis Metrobe, late of, etc.,etc., deceased, Messrs Binstead & Polegate, solicitors, of 77a BedfordRow, acting on behalf of the administrator and next-of-kin of the saidetc., etc., do hereby'--well, that's what they do. Signed, witnessed andstamped at Somerset House."

  "I suppose I shall wake presently," said Elsie dreamily.

  "It was for this moment that I ventured to suggest the third requirementnecessary to bring our enterprise to a successful end," said Carrados.

  "Oh, how thoughtful of you!" cried Elsie. "Roy, the champagne."

  Five minutes later Carrados was explaining to a small but enthralledaudience.

  "The late Alexis Metrobe was a man of peculiar character. After seeing agood deal of the world and being many things, he finally embracedspiritualism, and in common with some of its most pronounced adherentshe thenceforward abandoned what we should call 'the common-sense view.'

  "A few years ago, by the collation of the Book of Revelations, a set ofZadkiel's Almanacs, and the complete works of Mrs Mary Baker Eddy,Metrobe discovered that the end of the world would take place on thetenth of October 1910. It therefore became a matter of urgent importancein his mind to ensure pecuniary provision for himself for the time afterthe catastrophe had taken place."

  "I don't understand," interrupted Elsie. "Did he expect to survive it?"

  "You cannot understand, Mrs Bellmark, because it is fundamentallyincomprehensible. We can only accept the fact by the light of caseswhich occasionally obtain prominence. Metrobe did not expect to survive,but he was firmly convinced that the currency of this world would beequally useful in the spirit-land into which he expected to pass. Thisview was encouraged by a lady medium at whose feet he sat. She kindlyoffered to transmit to his banking account in the Hereafter, withoutmaking any charge whatever, any sum that he cared to put into her handsfor the purpose. Metrobe accepted the idea but not the offer. His planwas to deposit a considerable amount in a spot of which he alone hadknowledge, so that he could come and help himself to it as required."

  "But if the world had come to an end----?"

  "Only the material world, you must understand, Mrs Bellmark. The spiritworld, its exact impalpable counterpart, would continue as before andMetrobe's hoard would be spiritually intact and available. That is theprologue.

  "About a month ago there appeared a certain advertisement in a good manypapers. I noticed it at the time and three days ago I had only to referto my files to put my hand on it at once. It reads:

  "'Alexis Metrobe. Any servant or personal attendant of the late Alexis Metrobe of Fountain Court, Groat's Heath, possessing special knowledge of his habits and movements may hear of something advantageous on applying to Binstead & Polegate, 77a Bedford Row, W.C.'

  "The solicitors had, in fact, discovered that five thousand pounds'worth of securities had been realized early in 1910. They readilyascertained that Metrobe had drawn that amount in gold out of his bankimmediately after, and there the trace ended. He died six months later.There was no hoard of gold and not a shred of paper to show where it hadgone, yet Metrobe lived very simply within his income. The house hadmeanwhile been demolished but there was no hint or whisper of any luckyfind.

  "Two inquirers presented themselves at 77a Bedford Row. They wereinformed of the circumstances and offered a reward, varying according tothe results, for information that would lead to the recovery of themoney. They are both described as thoughtful, slow-spoken men. Eachheard the story, shook his head, and departed. The first caller provedto be John Foster, the ex-butler. On the following day Mr Irons,formerly gardener at the Court, was the applicant.

  "I must now divert your attention into a side track. In the summer of1910 Metrobe published a curious work entitled 'The Flame beyond theDome.' In the main it is an eschatological treatise, but at the end hetacked on an epilogue, which he called 'The Fable of the Chameleon.' Itis even more curious than the rest and with reason, for under the guiseof a speculative essay he gives a cryptic account of the circumstancesof the five thousand pounds and, what is more important, details theexact particulars of its disposal. His reason for so doing ischaracteristic of the man. He was conscious by experience that hepossessed an utterly treacherous memory, and having had occasion to movethe treasure from one spot to another he feared that when the time camehis bemuddled shade would be unable to locate it. For future reference,therefore, he embodied the details in his book, and to make sure thatplenty of copies should be in existence he circulated it by the onlymeans in his power--in other words, he gave a volume to everyone he knewand to a good many people whom he didn't.

  "So far I have dealt with actualities. The final details are partlyspeculative but they are essentially correct. Metrobe conveyed his goldto Fountain Court, obtained a stout oak coffer for it, and selected aspot _west_ of the fountain. He chose a favourable occasion for buryingit, but by some mischance Irons came on the scene. Metrobe explained theincident by declaring that he was burying a favourite parrot. Ironsthought nothing particular about it then, although he related the factto the butler, and to others, in evidence of the general belief that'the old cock was quite barmy.' But Metrobe himself was much disturbedby the accident. A few days later he dug up the box. In pursuance of hisnew plan he carried his gold to the Bank of England and changed it intothese notes. Then transferring the venue to one due _east_ of thefountain, he buried them in this tin, satisfied that the small space itoccupied would baffle the search of anyone not in possession of theexact location."

  "But, I say!" exclaimed Mr Bellmark. "Gold might remain gold, but whatimaginable use could be made of bank-notes after the end of the world?"

  "That is a point of view, no doubt. But Metrobe, in spite of his foreignname, was a thorough Englishman. The world might come to an end, but hewas satisfied that somehow the Bank of England would ride through it allright. I only suggest that. There is much that we can only guess."

  "That is all there is to know, Mr Carrados?"

  "Yes. Everything comes to an end, Mrs Bellmark. I sent my car away tocall for me at eight. Eight has struck. That is Harris announcing hisarrival."

  He stood up, but embarrassment and indecision marked the looks andmovements of the other two.

  "How can we possibly take all this money, though?" murmured Elsie, inpainful uncertainty. "It is entirely your undertaking, Mr Carrados. Itis the merest fiction bringing me into it at all."

  "Perhaps in the circumstances," suggested Bellmark nervously--"youremember the circumstances, Elsie?--Mr Carrados would be willing toregard it as a loan----"

  "No, no!" cried Elsie impulsively. "There must be no half measures. Weknow that a thousand pounds would be nothing to Mr Carrados, and heknows that a thousand pounds are everything to us." Her voice remindedthe blind man of the candle-snuffing recital. "We will take t
his greatgift, Mr Carrados, quite freely, and we will not spoil the generoussatisfaction that you must have in doing a wonderful and a splendidservice by trying to hedge our obligation."

  "But what can we ever do to thank Mr Carrados?" faltered Bellmarkmundanely.

  "Nothing," said Elsie simply. "That is it."

  "But I think that Mrs Bellmark has quite solved that," interposedCarrados.

  THE GAME PLAYED IN THE DARK

  "It's a funny thing, sir," said Inspector Beedel, regarding Mr Carradoswith the pensive respect that he always extended towards the blindamateur, "it's a funny thing, but nothing seems to go on abroad now butwhat you'll find some trace of it here in London if you take the troubleto look."

  "In the right quarter," contributed Carrados.

  "Why, yes," agreed the inspector. "But nothing comes of it nine timesout of ten, because it's no one's particular business to look here orthe thing's been taken up and finished from the other end. I don't meanordinary murders or single-handed burglaries, of course, but"--a modestring of professional pride betrayed the quiet enthusiast--"realFirst-Class Crimes."

  "The State Antonio Five per cent. Bond Coupons?" suggested Carrados.

  "Ah, you are right, Mr Carrados." Beedel shook his head sadly, as thoughperhaps on that occasion someone ought to have looked. "A man has a fitin the inquiry office of the Agent-General for British Equatoria, andtwo hundred and fifty thousand pounds' worth of faked securities is theresult in Mexico. Then look at that jade fylfot charm pawned forone-and-three down at the Basin and the use that could have been madeof it in the Kharkov 'ritual murder' trial."

  "The West Hampstead Lost Memory puzzle and the Baripur bomb conspiracythat might have been smothered if one had known."

  "Quite true, sir. And the three children of that Chicagomillionaire--Cyrus V. Bunting, wasn't it?--kidnapped in broad daylightoutside the New York Lyric and here, three weeks later, the dumb girlwho chalked the wall at Charing Cross. I remember reading once in afinancial article that every piece of foreign gold had a string from itleading to Threadneedle Street. A figure of speech, sir, of course, butapt enough, I don't doubt. Well, it seems to me that every big crimedone abroad leaves a finger-print here in London--if only, as you say,we look in the right quarter."

  "And at the right moment," added Carrados. "The time is often thepresent; the place the spot beneath our very noses. We take a step andthe chance has gone for ever."

  The inspector nodded and contributed a weighty monosyllable ofsympathetic agreement. The most prosaic of men in the pursuit of hisordinary duties, it nevertheless subtly appealed to some half-dormantstreak of vanity to have his profession taken romantically when therewas no serious work on hand.

  "No; perhaps not 'for ever' in one case in a thousand, after all,"amended the blind man thoughtfully. "This perpetual duel between the Lawand the Criminal has sometimes appeared to me in the terms of a game ofcricket, inspector. Law is in the field; the Criminal at the wicket. IfLaw makes a mistake--sends down a loose ball or drops a catch--theCriminal scores a little or has another lease of life. But if _he_ makesa mistake--if he lets a straight ball pass or spoons towards a steadyman--he is done for. His mistakes are fatal; those of the Law are onlytemporary and retrievable."

  "Very good, sir," said Mr Beedel, rising--the conversation had takenplace in the study at The Turrets, where Beedel had found occasion topresent himself--"very apt indeed. I must remember that. Well, sir, Ionly hope that this 'Guido the Razor' lot will send a catch in ourdirection."

  The 'this' delicately marked Inspector Beedel's instinctive contempt forGuido. As a craftsman he was compelled, on his reputation, to respecthim, and he had accordingly availed himself of Carrados's friendship fora confabulation. As a man--he was a foreigner: worse, an Italian, and ifleft to his own resources the inspector would have opposed to hissinuous flexibility those rigid, essentially Britannia-metal, methods ofthe Force that strike the impartial observer as so ponderous, soamateurish and conventional, and, it must be admitted, often socuriously and inexplicably successful.

  The offence that had circuitously brought "il Rasojo" and his "lot"within the cognizance of Scotland Yard outlines the kind of story thatis discreetly hinted at by the society paragraphist of the day,politely disbelieved by the astute reader, and then at last laidindiscreetly bare in all its details by the inevitable princessly"Recollections" of a generation later. It centred round an impendingroyal marriage in Vienna, a certain jealous "Countess X." (here you havethe discretion of the paragrapher), and a document or two that might berelied upon (the aristocratic biographer will impartially sum up thecontingencies) to play the deuce with the approaching nuptials. Toprocure the evidence of these papers the Countess enlisted the servicesof Guido, as reliable a scoundrel as she could probably have selectedfor the commission. To a certain point--to the abstraction of thepapers, in fact--he succeeded, but it was with pursuit close upon hisheels. There was that disadvantage in employing a rogue to do work thatimplicated roguery, for whatever moral right the Countess had to theproperty, her accomplice had no legal right whatever to his liberty. Onhalf-a-dozen charges at least he could be arrested on sight in as manycapitals of Europe. He slipped out of Vienna by the Nordbahn with hisdestination known, resourcefully stopped the express outside Czaslau andgot away across to Chrudim. By this time the game and the moves werepretty well understood in more than one keenly interested quarter.Diplomacy supplemented justice and the immediate history of Guido becamethat of a fox hunted from covert to covert with all the familiar earthsstopped against him. From Pardubitz he passed on to Glatz, reachedBreslau and went down the Oder to Stettin. Out of the liberality of hisemployer's advances he had ample funds to keep going, and he dropped andrejoined his accomplices as the occasion ruled. A week's harrying foundhim in Copenhagen, still with no time to spare, and he missed hispurpose there. He crossed to Malmo by ferry, took the connecting nighttrain to Stockholm and the same morning sailed down the Saltsjon,ostensibly bound for Obo, intending to cross to Revel and so get back tocentral Europe by the less frequented routes. But in this move againluck was against him and receiving warning just in time, and by themysterious agency that had so far protected him, he contrived to bedropped from the steamer by boat among the islands of the crowdedArchipelago, made his way to Helsingfors and within forty-eight hourswas back again on the Frihavnen with pursuit for the moment blinked anda breathing-time to the good.

  To appreciate the exact significance of these wanderings it is necessaryto recall the conditions. Guido was not zigzagging a course about Europein an aimless search for the picturesque, still less inspired by anylove of the melodramatic. To him every step was vital, each tangent orrebound the necessary outcome of his much-badgered plans. In his pocketreposed the papers for which he had run grave risks. The price agreedupon for the service was sufficiently lavish to make the risks worthtaking time after time; but in order to consummate the transaction itwas necessary that the booty should be put into his employer's hand.Half-way across Europe that employer was waiting with such patience asshe could maintain, herself watched and shadowed at every step. TheCountess X. was sufficiently exalted to be personally immune from thehigh-handed methods of her country's secret service, but every approachto her was tapped. The problem was for Guido to earn a long enoughrespite to enable him to communicate his position to the Countess andfor her to go or to reach him by a trusty hand. Then the whole fabric ofintrigue could fall to pieces, but so far Guido had been keptsuccessfully on the run and in the meanwhile time was pressing.

  "They lost him after the _Hutola_," Beedel reported, in explaining thecircumstances to Max Carrados. "Three days later they found that he'dbeen back again in Copenhagen but by that time he'd flown. Now they'rewithout a trace except the inference of these 'Orange peach blossom'agonies in _The Times_. But the Countess has gone hurriedly to Paris;and Lafayard thinks it all points to London."

  "I suppose the Foreign Office is anxious to oblige just now?"

  "I expect so, sir," agr
eed Beedel, "but, of course, my instructionsdon't come from that quarter. What appeals to _us_ is that it would be afeather in our caps--they're still a little sore up at the Yard aboutHans the Piper."

  "Naturally," assented Carrados. "Well, I'll see what I can do if thereis real occasion. Let me know anything, and, if you see your chanceyourself, come round for a talk if you like on--to-day's Wednesday?--Ishall be in at any rate on Friday evening."

  Without being a precisian, the blind man was usually exact in suchmatters. There are those who hold that an engagement must be kept at allhazard: men who would miss a death-bed message in order to keep literalfaith with a beggar. Carrados took lower, if more substantial, ground."My word," he sometimes had occasion to remark, "is subject tocontingencies, like everything else about me. If I make a promise it isconditional on nothing which seems more important arising to counteractit. That, among men of sense, is understood." And, as it happened,something did occur on this occasion.

  He was summoned to the telephone just before dinner on Friday evening toreceive a message personally. Greatorex, his secretary, had taken thecall, but came in to say that the caller would give him nothing beyondhis name--Brebner. The name was unknown to Carrados, but such incidentswere not uncommon, and he proceeded to comply.

  "Yes," he responded; "I am Max Carrados speaking. What is it?"

  "Oh, it is you, sir, is it? Mr Brickwill told me to get to you direct."

  "Well, you are all right. Brickwill? Are you the British Museum?"

  "Yes. I am Brebner in the Chaldean Art Department. They are in a greatstew here. We have just found out that someone has managed to get accessto the Second Inner Greek Room and looted some of the cabinets there. Itis all a mystery as yet."

  "What is missing?" asked Carrados.

  "So far we can only definitely speak of about six trays of Greekcoins--a hundred to a hundred and twenty, roughly."

  "Important?"

  The line conveyed a caustic bark of tragic amusement.

  "Why, yes, I should say so. The beggar seems to have known his business.All fine specimens of the best period. Syracuse--Messana--Croton--Amphipolis. Eumenes--Evainetos--Kimons. The chief quite wept."

  Carrados groaned. There was not a piece among them that he had nothandled lovingly.

  "What are you doing?" he demanded.

  "Mr Brickwill has been to Scotland Yard, and, on advice, we are notmaking it public as yet. We don't want a hint of it to be droppedanywhere, if you don't mind, sir."

  "That will be all right."

  "It was for that reason that I was to speak with you personally. We arenotifying the chief dealers and likely collectors to whom the coins, orsome of them, may be offered at once if it is thought that we haven'tfound it out yet. Judging from the expertness displayed in theselection, we don't think that there is any danger of the lot beingsold to a pawnbroker or a metal-dealer, so that we are running verylittle real risk in not advertising the loss."

  "Yes; probably it is as well," replied Carrados. "Is there anything thatMr Brickwill wishes me to do?"

  "Only this, sir; if you are offered a suspicious lot of Greek coins, orhear of them, would you have a look--I mean ascertain whether they arelikely to be ours, and if you think they are communicate with us andScotland Yard at once."

  "Certainly," replied the blind man. "Tell Mr Brickwill that he can relyon me if any indication comes my way. Convey my regrets to him and tellhim that I feel the loss quite as a personal one.... I don't think thatyou and I have met as yet, Mr Brebner?"

  "No, sir," said the voice diffidently, "but I have looked forward to thepleasure. Perhaps this unfortunate business will bring me anintroduction."

  "You are very kind," was Carrados's acknowledgment of the compliment."Any time ... I was going to say that perhaps you don't know myweakness, but I have spent many pleasant hours over your wonderfulcollection. That ensures the personal element. Good-bye."

  Carrados was really disturbed by the loss although his concern wastempered by the reflection that the coins would inevitably in the endfind their way back to the Museum. That their restitution might involveransom to the extent of several thousand pounds was the least poignantdetail of the situation. The one harrowing thought was that the bootymight, through stress or ignorance, find its way into the melting-pot.That dreadful contingency, remote but insistent, was enough to affectthe appetite of the blind enthusiast.

  He was expecting Inspector Beedel, who would be full of his own case,but he could not altogether dismiss the aspects of possibility thatBrebner's communication opened before his mind. He was still concernedwith the chances of destruction and a very indifferent companion forGreatorex, who alone sat with him, when Parkinson presented himself.Dinner was over but Carrados had remained rather longer than his custom,smoking his mild Turkish cigarette in silence.

  "A lady wishes to see you, sir. She said you would not know her name,but that her business would interest you."

  The form of message was sufficiently unusual to take the attention ofboth men.

  "You don't know her, of course, Parkinson?" inquired his master.

  For just a second the immaculate Parkinson seemed tongue-tied. Then hedelivered himself in his most ceremonial strain.

  "I regret to say that I cannot claim the advantage, sir," he replied.

  "Better let me tackle her, sir," suggested Greatorex with easyconfidence. "It's probably a sub."

  The sportive offer was declined by a smile and a shake of the head.Carrados turned to his attendant.

  "I shall be in the study, Parkinson. Show her there in three minutes.You stay and have another cigarette, Greatorex. By that time she willeither have gone or have interested me."

  In three minutes' time Parkinson threw open the study door.

  "The lady, sir," he announced.

  Could he have seen, Carrados would have received the impression of aplainly, almost dowdily, dressed young woman of buxom figure. She wore alight veil, but it was ineffective in concealing the unattraction of theface beneath. The features were swart and the upper lip darkened withthe more than incipient moustache of the southern brunette. Worseremained, for a disfiguring rash had assailed patches of her skin. Asshe entered she swept the room and its occupant with a quiet butcomprehensive survey.

  "Please take a chair, Madame. You wished to see me?"

  The ghost of a demure smile flickered about her mouth as she complied,and in that moment her face seemed less uncomely. Her eye lingered for amoment on a cabinet above the desk, and one might have noticed that hereye was very bright. Then she replied.

  "You are Signor Carrados, in--in the person?"

  Carrados made his smiling admission and changed his position afraction--possibly to catch her curiously pitched voice the better.

  "The great collector of the antiquities?"

  "I do collect a little," he admitted guardedly.

  "You will forgive me, Signor, if my language is not altogether good.When I live at Naples with my mother we let boardings, chiefly toInglish and Amerigans. I pick up the words, but since I marry and go tolive in Calabria my Inglish has gone all red--no, no, you say, rusty.Yes, that is it; quite rusty."

  "It is excellent," said Carrados. "I am sure that we shall understandone another perfectly."

  The lady shot a penetrating glance but the blind man's expression wasmerely suave and courteous. Then she continued:

  "My husband is of name Ferraja--Michele Ferraja. We have a vineyard anda little property near Forenzana." She paused to examine the tips of hergloves for quite an appreciable moment. "Signor," she burst out, withsome vehemence, "the laws of my country are not good at all."

  "From what I hear on all sides," said Carrados, "I am afraid that yourcountry is not alone."

  "There is at Forenzana a poor labourer, Gian Verde of name," continuedthe visitor, dashing volubly into her narrative. "He is one day diggingin the vineyard, the vineyard of my husband, when his spade strikesitself upon an obstruction. 'Aha,' says Gian, 'what have we her
e?' andhe goes down upon his knees to see. It is an oil jar of red earth,Signor, such as was anciently used, and in it is filled with silvermoney.

  "Gian is poor but he is wise. Does he call upon the authorities? No, no;he understands that they are all corrupt. He carries what he has foundto my husband for he knows him to be a man of great honour.

  "My husband also is of brief decision. His mind is made up. 'Gian,' hesays, 'keep your mouth shut. This will be to your ultimate profit.' Gianunderstands, for he can trust my husband. He makes a sign of mutualimplication. Then he goes back to the spade digging.

  "My husband understands a little of these things but not enough. We goto the collections of Messina and Naples and even Rome and there we seeother pieces of silver money, similar, and learn that they are of greatvalue. They are of different sizes but most would cover a lira and ofthe thickness of two. On the one side imagine the great head of a pagandeity; on the other--oh, so many things I cannot remember what." Agesture of circumferential despair indicated the hopeless variety ofdesign.

  "A biga or quadriga of mules?" suggested Carrados. "An eagle carryingoff a hare, a figure flying with a wreath, a trophy of arms? Some ofthose perhaps?"

  "_Si, si bene_," cried Madame Ferraja. "You understand, I perceive,Signor. We are very cautious, for on every side is extortion and anunjust law. See, it is even forbidden to take these things out of thecountry, yet if we try to dispose of them at home they will be seizedand we punished, for they are _tesoro trovato_, what you call treasuretroven and belonging to the State--these coins which the industry ofGian discovered and which had lain for so long in the ground of myhusband's vineyard."

  "So you brought them to England?"

  "_Si_, Signor. It is spoken of as a land of justice and rich nobilitywho buy these things at the highest prices. Also my speaking a little ofthe language would serve us here."

  "I suppose you have the coins for disposal then? You can show them tome?"

  "My husband retains them. I will take you, but you must first give_parola d'onore_ of an English Signor not to betray us, or to speak ofthe circumstance to another."

  Carrados had already foreseen this eventuality and decided to accept it.Whether a promise exacted on the plea of treasure trove would bind himto respect the despoilers of the British Museum was a point forsubsequent consideration. Prudence demanded that he should investigatethe offer at once and to cavil over Madame Ferraja's conditions would befatal to that object. If the coins were, as there seemed little reasonto doubt, the proceeds of the robbery, a modest ransom might be thesafest way of preserving irreplaceable treasures, and in that caseCarrados could offer his services as the necessary intermediary.

  "I give you the promise you require, Madame," he accordingly declared.

  "It is sufficient," assented Madame. "I will now take you to the spot.It is necessary that you alone should accompany me, for my husband is sodistraught in this country, where he understands not a word of what isspoken, that his poor spirit would cry 'We are surrounded!' if he sawtwo strangers approach the house. Oh, he is become most dreadful in hisanxiety, my husband. Imagine only, he keeps on the fire a cauldron ofmolten lead and he would not hesitate to plunge into it this treasureand obliterate its existence if he imagined himself endangered."

  "So," speculated Carrados inwardly. "A likely precaution for a simplevine-grower of Calabria! Very well," he assented aloud, "I will go withyou alone. Where is the place?"

  Madame Ferraja searched in the ancient purse that she discovered in herrusty handbag and produced a scrap of paper.

  "People do not understand sometimes my way of saying it," she explained."_Sette_, Herringbone----"

  "May I----?" said Carrados, stretching out his hand. He took the paperand touched the writing with his finger-tips. "Oh yes, 7 HeronsbournePlace. That is on the edge of Heronsbourne Park, is it not?" Hetransferred the paper casually to his desk as he spoke and stood up."How did you come, Madame Ferraja?"

  Madame Ferraja followed the careless action with a discreet smile thatdid not touch her voice.

  "By motor bus--first one then another, inquiring at every turning. Oh,but it was interminable," sighed the lady.

  "My driver is off for the evening--I did not expect to be going out--butI will 'phone up a taxi and it will be at the gate as soon as we are."He despatched the message and then, turning to the house telephone,switched on to Greatorex.

  "I'm just going round to Heronsbourne Park," he explained. "Don't stay,Greatorex, but if anyone calls expecting to see me, they can say that Idon't anticipate being away more than an hour."

  Parkinson was hovering about the hall. With quite novel officiousness hepressed upon his master a succession of articles that were not required.Over this usually complacent attendant the unattractive features ofMadame Ferraja appeared to exercise a stealthy fascination, for a dozentimes the lady detected his eyes questioning her face and a dozen timeshe looked guiltily away again. But his incongruities could not delay formore than a few minutes the opening of the door.

  "I do not accompany you, sir?" he inquired, with the suggestion plainlytendered in his voice that it would be much better if he did.

  "Not this time, Parkinson."

  "Very well, sir. Is there any particular address to which we cantelephone in case you are required, sir?"

  "Mr Greatorex has instructions."

  Parkinson stood aside, his resources exhausted. Madame Ferraja laughed alittle mockingly as they walked down the drive.

  "Your man-servant thinks I may eat you, Signor Carrados," she declaredvivaciously.

  Carrados, who held the key of his usually exact attendant'sperturbation--for he himself had recognized in Madame Ferraja theangelic Nina Brun, of the Sicilian tetradrachm incident, from the momentshe opened her mouth--admitted to himself the humour of her audacity.But it was not until half-an-hour later that enlightenment rewardedParkinson. Inspector Beedel had just arrived and was speaking withGreatorex when the conscientious valet, who had been winnowing hismemory in solitude, broke in upon them, more distressed than either hadever seen him in his life before, and with the breathless introduction:"It was the ears, sir! I have her ears at last!" poured out his tale ofsuspicion, recognition and his present fears.

  In the meanwhile the two objects of his concern had reached the gate asthe summoned taxicab drew up.

  "Seven Heronsbourne Place," called Carrados to the driver.

  "No, no," interposed the lady, with decision, "let him stop at thebeginning of the street. It is not far to walk. My husband would be onthe verge of distraction if he thought in the dark that it was thearrival of the police;--who knows?"

  "Brackedge Road, opposite the end of Heronsbourne Place," amendedCarrados.

  Heronsbourne Place had the reputation, among those who were curious insuch matters, of being the most reclusive residential spot inside thefour-mile circle. To earn that distinction it was, needless to say, acul-de-sac. It bounded one side of Heronsbourne Park but did not at anypoint of its length give access to that pleasance. It was entirelydevoted to unostentatious little houses, something between the villa andthe cottage, some detached and some in pairs, but all possessing theendowment of larger, more umbrageous gardens than can generally besecured within the radius. The local house agent described them as"delightfully old-world" or "completely modernized" according to therequirement of the applicant.

  The cab was dismissed at the corner and Madame Ferraja guided hercompanion along the silent and deserted way. She had begun to talk withrenewed animation, but her ceaseless chatter only served to emphasize toCarrados the one fact that it was contrived to disguise.

  "I am not causing you to miss the house with looking after me--No. 7,Madame Ferraja?" he interposed.

  "No, certainly," she replied readily. "It is a little farther. Thenumbers are from the other end. But we are there. _Ecco!_"

  She stopped at a gate and opened it, still guiding him. They passed intoa garden, moist and sweet-scented with the distillate odours of a dewyeven
ing. As she turned to relatch the gate the blind man endeavouredpolitely to anticipate her. Between them his hat fell to the ground.

  "My clumsiness," he apologized, recovering it from the step. "My oldimpulses and my present helplessness, alas, Madame Ferraja!"

  "One learns prudence by experience," said Madame sagely. She wasscarcely to know, poor lady, that even as she uttered this triteaphorism, under cover of darkness and his hat, Mr Carrados had justruined his signet ring by blazoning a golden "7" upon her garden step toestablish its identity if need be. A cul-de-sac that numbered from theclosed end seemed to demand some investigation.

  "Seldom," he replied to her remark. "One goes on taking risks. So we arethere?"

  Madame Ferraja had opened the front door with a latchkey. She droppedthe latch and led Carrados forward along the narrow hall. The room theyentered was at the back of the house, and from the position of the roadit therefore overlooked the park. Again the door was locked behind them.

  "The celebrated Mr Carrados!" announced Madame Ferraja, with a sparkleof triumph in her voice. She waved her hand towards a lean, dark man whohad stood beside the door as they entered. "My husband."

  "Beneath our poor roof in the most fraternal manner," commented the darkman, in the same derisive spirit. "But it is wonderful."

  "The even more celebrated Monsieur Dompierre, unless I am mistaken?"retorted Carrados blandly. "I bow on our first real meeting."

  "You knew!" exclaimed the Dompierre of the earlier incidentincredulously. "Stoker, you were right and I owe you a hundred lire. Whorecognized you, Nina?"

  "How should I know?" demanded the real Madame Dompierre crossly. "Thisblind man himself, by chance."

  "You pay a poor compliment to your charming wife's personality toimagine that one could forget her so soon," put in Carrados. "And you aFrenchman, Dompierre!"

  "You knew, Monsieur Carrados," reiterated Dompierre, "and yet youventured here. You are either a fool or a hero."

  "An enthusiast--it is the same thing as both," interposed the lady."What did I tell you? What did it matter if he recognized? You see?"

  "Surely you exaggerate, Monsieur Dompierre," contributed Carrados. "Imay yet pay tribute to your industry. Perhaps I regret the circumstanceand the necessity but I am here to make the best of it. Let me see thethings Madame has spoken of, and then we can consider the detail oftheir price, either for myself or on behalf of others."

  There was no immediate reply. From Dompierre came a saturnine chuckleand from Madame Dompierre a titter that accompanied a grimace. For oneof the rare occasions in his life Carrados found himself wholly out oftouch with the atmosphere of the situation. Instinctively he turned hisface towards the other occupant of the room, the man addressed as"Stoker," whom he knew to be standing near the window.

  "This unfortunate business _has_ brought me an introduction," said afamiliar voice.

  For one dreadful moment the universe stood still round Carrados. Then,with the crash and grind of overwhelming mental tumult, the wholestrategy revealed itself, like the sections of a gigantic puzzle fallinginto place before his eyes.

  There had been no robbery at the British Museum! That plausibleconcoction was as fictitious as the intentionally transparent tale oftreasure trove. Carrados recognized now how ineffective the one devicewould have been without the other in drawing him--how convincing the twotogether--and while smarting at the humiliation of his plight he couldnot restrain a dash of admiration at the ingenuity--the accuratelyconjectured line of inference--of the plot. It was again the familiarartifice of the cunning pitfall masked by the clumsily contrived trapjust beyond it. And straightway into it he had blundered!

  "And this," continued the same voice, "is Carrados, Max Carrados, uponwhose perspicuity a government--only the present government, let me injustice say--depends to outwit the undesirable alien! My country; O mycountry!"

  "Is it really Monsieur Carrados?" inquired Dompierre in polite sarcasm."Are you sure, Nina, that you have not brought a man from Scotland Yardinstead?"

  "_Basta!_ he is here; what more do you want? Do not mock the poorsightless gentleman," answered Madame Dompierre, in doubtful sympathy.

  "That is exactly what I was wondering," ventured Carrados mildly. "I amhere--what more do you want? Perhaps you, Mr Stoker----?"

  "Excuse me. 'Stoker' is a mere colloquial appellation based on atrifling incident of my career in connection with a disabled liner. Thetitle illustrates the childish weakness of the criminal classes fornicknames, together with their pitiable baldness of invention. My realname is Montmorency, Mr Carrados--Eustace Montmorency."

  "Thank you, Mr Montmorency," said Carrados gravely. "We are on oppositesides of the table here to-night, but I should be proud to have beenwith you in the stokehold of the _Benvenuto_."

  "That was pleasure," muttered the Englishman. "This is business."

  "Oh, quite so," agreed Carrados. "So far I am not exactly complaining.But I think it is high time to be told--and I address myself toyou--why I have been decoyed here and what your purpose is."

  Mr Montmorency turned to his accomplice.

  "Dompierre," he remarked, with great clearness, "why the devil is MrCarrados kept standing?"

  "Ah, oh, heaven!" exclaimed Madame Dompierre with tragic resignation,and flung herself down on a couch.

  "_Scusi_," grinned the lean man, and with burlesque grace he placed achair for their guest's acceptance.

  "Your curiosity is natural," continued Mr Montmorency, with a cold eyetowards Dompierre's antics, "although I really think that by this timeyou ought to have guessed the truth. In fact, I don't doubt that youhave guessed, Mr Carrados, and that you are only endeavouring to gaintime. For that reason--because it will perhaps convince you that we havenothing to fear--I don't mind obliging you."

  "Better hasten," murmured Dompierre uneasily.

  "Thank you, Bill," said the Englishman, with genial effrontery. "I won'tfail to report your intelligence to the Rasojo. Yes, Mr Carrados, as youhave already conjectured, it is the affair of the Countess X. to whichyou owe this inconvenience. You will appreciate the compliment thatunderlies your temporary seclusion, I am sure. When circumstancesfavoured our plans and London became the inevitable place of meeting,you and you alone stood in the way. We guessed that you would beconsulted and we frankly feared your intervention. You were consulted.We know that Inspector Beedel visited you two days ago and he has noother case in hand. Your quiescence for just three days had to beobtained at any cost. So here you are."

  "I see," assented Carrados. "And having got me here, how do you proposeto keep me?"

  "Of course that detail has received consideration. In fact we securedthis furnished house solely with that in view. There are three coursesbefore us. The first, quite pleasant, hangs on your acquiescence. Thesecond, more drastic, comes into operation if you decline. Thethird--but really, Mr Carrados, I hope you won't oblige me even todiscuss the third. You will understand that it is rather objectionablefor me to contemplate the necessity of two able-bodied men having to useeven the smallest amount of physical compulsion towards one who is blindand helpless. I hope you will be reasonable and accept the inevitable."

  "The inevitable is the one thing that I invariably accept," repliedCarrados. "What does it involve?"

  "You will write a note to your secretary explaining that what you havelearned at 7 Heronsbourne Place makes it necessary for you to goimmediately abroad for a few days. By the way, Mr Carrados, althoughthis is Heronsbourne Place it is _not_ No. 7."

  "Dear, dear me," sighed the prisoner. "You seem to have had me at everyturn, Mr Montmorency."

  "An obvious precaution. The wider course of giving you a differentstreet altogether we rejected as being too risky in getting you here.To continue: To give conviction to the message you will direct your manParkinson to follow by the first boat-train to-morrow, with all therequirements for a short stay, and put up at Mascot's, as usual,awaiting your arrival there."

  "Very convincing," agreed Carrados.
"Where shall I be in reality?"

  "In a charming though rather isolated bungalow on the south coast. Yourwants will be attended to. There is a boat. You can row or fish. Youwill be run down by motor car and brought back to your own gate. It'sreally very pleasant for a few days. I've often stayed there myself."

  "Your recommendation carries weight. Suppose, for the sake of curiosity,that I decline?"

  "You will still go there but your treatment will be commensurate withyour behaviour. The car to take you is at this moment waiting in aconvenient spot on the other side of the park. We shall go down thegarden at the back, cross the park, and put you into the car--anyway."

  "And if I resist?"

  The man whose pleasantry it had been to call himself Eustace Montmorencyshrugged his shoulders.

  "Don't be a fool," he said tolerantly. "You know who you are dealingwith and the kind of risks we run. If you call out or endanger us at acritical point we shall not hesitate to silence you effectively."

  The blind man knew that it was no idle threat. In spite of the cloak ofhumour and fantasy thrown over the proceedings, he was in the power ofcoolly desperate men. The window was curtained and shuttered againstsight and sound, the door behind him locked. Possibly at that moment arevolver threatened him; certainly weapons lay within reach of both hiskeepers.

  "Tell me what to write," he asked, with capitulation in his voice.

  Dompierre twirled his mustachios in relieved approval. Madame laughedfrom her place on the couch and picked up a book, watching Montmorencyover the cover of its pages. As for that gentleman, he masked hissatisfaction by the practical business of placing on the table beforeCarrados the accessories of the letter.

  "Put into your own words the message that I outlined just now."

  "Perhaps to make it altogether natural I had better write on a page ofthe notebook that I always use," suggested Carrados.

  "Do you wish to make it natural?" demanded Montmorency, with latentsuspicion.

  "If the miscarriage of your plan is to result in my head beingknocked--yes, I do," was the reply.

  "Good!" chuckled Dompierre, and sought to avoid Mr Montmorency's coldglance by turning on the electric table-lamp for the blind man'sbenefit. Madame Dompierre laughed shrilly.

  "Thank you, Monsieur," said Carrados, "you have done quite right. Whatis light to you is warmth to me--heat, energy, inspiration. Now tobusiness."

  He took out the pocket-book he had spoken of and leisurely proceeded toflatten it down upon the table before him. As his tranquil, pleasanteyes ranged the room meanwhile it was hard to believe that the shuttersof an impenetrable darkness lay between them and the world. They restedfor a moment on the two accomplices who stood beyond the table, pickedout Madame Dompierre lolling on the sofa on his right, and measured theproportions of the long, narrow room. They seemed to note the positionsof the window at the one end and the door almost at the other, and evento take into account the single pendent electric light which up tillthen had been the sole illuminant.

  "You prefer pencil?" asked Montmorency.

  "I generally use it for casual purposes. But not," he added, touchingthe point critically, "like this."

  Alert for any sign of retaliation, they watched him take aninsignificant penknife from his pocket and begin to trim the pencil. Wasthere in his mind any mad impulse to force conclusions with that punyweapon? Dompierre worked his face into a fiercer expression and touchedreassuringly the handle of his knife. Montmorency looked on for amoment, then, whistling softly to himself, turned his back on the tableand strolled towards the window, avoiding Madame Nina's pursuant eye.

  Then, with overwhelming suddenness, it came, and in its form altogetherunexpected.

  Carrados had been putting the last strokes to the pencil, whittling itdown upon the table. There had been no hasty movement, no violent act togive them warning; only the little blade had pushed itself nearer andnearer to the electric light cord lying there ... and suddenly andinstantly the room was plunged into absolute darkness.

  "To the door, Dom!" shouted Montmorency in a flash. "I am at the window.Don't let him pass and we are all right."

  "I am here," responded Dompierre from the door.

  "He will not attempt to pass," came the quiet voice of Carrados fromacross the room. "You are now all exactly where I want you. You are bothcovered. If either moves an inch, I fire--and remember that I shoot bysound, not sight."

  "But--but what does it mean?" stammered Montmorency, above thedespairing wail of Madame Dompierre.

  "It means that we are now on equal terms--three blind men in a darkroom. The numerical advantage that you possess is counterbalanced by thefact that you are out of your element--I am in mine."

  "Dom," whispered Montmorency across the dark space, "strike a match. Ihave none."

  "I would not, Dompierre, if I were you," advised Carrados, with a shortlaugh. "It might be dangerous." At once his voice seemed to leap into apassion. "Drop that matchbox," he cried. "You are standing on the brinkof your grave, you fool! Drop it, I say; let me hear it fall."

  A breath of thought--almost too short to call a pause--then a littlethud of surrender sounded from the carpet by the door. The twoconspirators seemed to hold their breath.

  "That is right." The placid voice once more resumed its sway. "Whycannot things be agreeable? I hate to have to shout, but you seem farfrom grasping the situation yet. Remember that I do not take theslightest risk. Also please remember, Mr Montmorency, that the actioneven of a hair-trigger automatic scrapes slightly as it comes up. Iremind you of that for your own good, because if you are so ill-advisedas to think of trying to pot me in the dark, that noise gives me a fifthof a second start of you. Do you by any chance know Zinghi's in MercerStreet?"

  "The shooting gallery?" asked Mr Montmorency a little sulkily.

  "The same. If you happen to come through this alive and are interestedyou might ask Zinghi to show you a target of mine that he keeps. Sevenshots at twenty yards, the target indicated by four watches, none ofthem so loud as the one you are wearing. He keeps it as a curiosity."

  "I wear no watch," muttered Dompierre, expressing his thought aloud.

  "No, Monsieur Dompierre, but you wear a heart, and that not on yoursleeve," said Carrados. "Just now it is quite as loud as MrMontmorency's watch. It is more central too--I shall not have to allowany margin. That is right; breathe naturally"--for the unhappy Dompierrehad given a gasp of apprehension. "It does not make any difference tome, and after a time holding one's breath becomes really painful."

  "Monsieur," declared Dompierre earnestly, "there was no intention ofsubmitting you to injury, I swear. This Englishman did but speak withinhis hat. At the most extreme you would have been but bound and gagged.Take care: killing is a dangerous game."

  "For you--not for me," was the bland rejoinder. "If you kill me you willbe hanged for it. If I kill you I shall be honourably acquitted. You canimagine the scene--the sympathetic court--the recital of yourvillainies--the story of my indignities. Then with stumbling feet andgroping hands the helpless blind man is led forward to give evidence.Sensation! No, no, it isn't really fair but I can kill you both withabsolute certainty and Providence will be saddled with all theresponsibility. Please don't fidget with your feet, Monsieur Dompierre.I know that you aren't moving but one is liable to make mistakes."

  "Before I die," said Montmorency--and for some reason laughedunconvincingly in the dark--"before I die, Mr Carrados, I should reallylike to know what has happened to the light. That, surely, isn'tProvidence?"

  "Would it be ungenerous to suggest that you are trying to gain time? Youought to know what has happened. But as it may satisfy you that I havenothing to fear from delay, I don't mind telling you. In my hand was asharp knife--contemptible, you were satisfied, as a weapon; beneath mynose the 'flex' of the electric lamp. It was only necessary for me todraw the one across the other and the system was short-circuited. Everylamp on that fuse is cut off and in the distributing-box in the hall youwill find a
burned-out wire. You, perhaps--but Monsieur Dompierre'sexperience in plating ought to have put him up to simple electricity."

  "How did you know that there is a distributing-box in the hall?" askedDompierre, with dull resentment.

  "My dear Dompierre, why beat the air with futile questions?" replied MaxCarrados. "What does it matter? Have it in the cellar if you like."

  "True," interposed Montmorency. "The only thing that need concern usnow----"

  "But it is in the hall--nine feet high," muttered Dompierre inbitterness. "Yet he, this blind man----"

  "The only thing that need concern us," repeated the Englishman, severelyignoring the interruption, "is what you intend doing in the end, MrCarrados?"

  "The end is a little difficult to foresee," was the admission. "So far,I am all for maintaining the _status quo_. Will the first grey light ofmorning find us still in this impasse? No, for between us we havecondemned the room to eternal darkness. Probably about daybreakDompierre will drop off to sleep and roll against the door. I,unfortunately mistaking his intention, will send a bullet through----Pardon, Madame, I should have remembered--but pray don't move."

  "I protest, Monsieur----"

  "Don't protest; just sit still. Very likely it will be Mr Montmorencywho will fall off to sleep the first after all."

  "Then we will anticipate that difficulty," said the one in question,speaking with renewed decision. "We will play the last hand with ourcards upon the table if you like. Nina, Mr Carrados will not injure youwhatever happens--be sure of that. When the moment comes you willrise----"

  "One word," put in Carrados with determination. "My position isprecarious and I take no risks. As you say, I cannot injure MadameDompierre, and you two men are therefore my hostages for her goodbehaviour. If she rises from the couch you, Dompierre, fall. If sheadvances another step Mr Montmorency follows you."

  "Do nothing rash, _carissima_," urged her husband, with passionatesolicitude. "You might get hit in place of me. We will yet find a betterway."

  "You dare not, Mr Carrados!" flung out Montmorency, for the first timebeginning to show signs of wear in this duel of the temper. "He darenot, Dompierre. In cold blood and unprovoked! No jury would acquit you!"

  "Another who fails to do you justice, Madame Nina," said the blind man,with ironic gallantry. "The action might be a little high-handed, oneadmits, but when you, appropriately clothed and in your rightcomplexion, stepped into the witness-box and I said: 'Gentlemen of thejury, what is my crime? That I made Madame Dompierre a widow!' can youdoubt their gratitude and my acquittal? Truly my countrymen are notall bats or monks, Madame." Dompierre was breathing with perfect freedomnow, while from the couch came the sounds of stifled emotion, butwhether the lady was involved in a paroxysm of sobs or of laughter itmight be difficult to swear.

  * * * * *

  It was perhaps an hour after the flourish of the introduction with whichMadame Dompierre had closed the door of the trap upon the blind man'sentrance.

  The minutes had passed but the situation remained unchanged, though theingenuity of certainly two of the occupants of the room had beentormented into shreds to discover a means of turning it to theiradvantage. So far the terrible omniscience of the blind man in the darkand the respect for his markmanship with which his coolness had inspiredthem, dominated the group. But one strong card yet remained to beplayed, and at last the moment came upon which the conspirators hadpinned their despairing hopes.

  There was the sound of movement in the hall outside, not the first aboutthe house, but towards the new complication Carrados had been strangelyunobservant. True, Montmorency had talked rather loudly, to carry overthe dangerous moments. But now there came an unmistakable step and tothe accomplices it could only mean one thing. Montmorency was ready onthe instant.

  "Down, Dom!" he cried, "throw yourself down! Break in, Guido. Break inthe door. We are held up!"

  There was an immediate response. The door, under the pressure of a humanbattering-ram, burst open with a crash. On the threshold theintruders--four or five in number--stopped starkly for a moment, held inastonishment by the extraordinary scene that the light from the hall,and of their own bull's-eyes, revealed.

  Flat on their faces, to present the least possible surface to Carrados'saim, Dompierre and Montmorency lay extended beside the window and behindthe door. On the couch, with her head buried beneath the cushions,Madame Dompierre sought to shut out the sight and sound of violence.Carrados--Carrados had not moved, but with arms resting on the table andfingers placidly locked together he smiled benignly on the new arrivals.His attitude, compared with the extravagance of those around him, gavethe impression of a complacent modern deity presiding over somegrotesque ceremonial of pagan worship.

  "So, Inspector, you could not wait for me, after all?" was his greeting.

  THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH

  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

  Minor punctuation errors have been repaired. An inconsistencyin the spelling of Messina/Messana (pages 269 and 274) has beenretained.

  The following amendments have been made:

  Page 250--Carados amended to Carrados--""True," agreed Carrados." Page 251--urning amended to turning--"They walked through the house, and turning to the right ..."