Four Max Carrados Detective Stories

by Ernest Bramah

Harris the order to goon when his ear caught a trivial sound.

  "Someone is coming out of the house, Louis," he warned his friend. "Itmay be Hollyer, but he ought to have gone by this time."

  "I don't hear anyone," replied the other, but as he spoke a doorbanged noisily and Mr. Carlyle slipped into another seat and ensconcedhimself behind a copy of _The Globe_.

  "Creake himself," he whispered across the car, as a man appeared atthe gate. "Hollyer was right; he is hardly changed. Waiting for a car,I suppose."

  But a car very soon swung past them from the direction in which Mr.Creake was looking and it did not interest him. For a minute or twolonger he continued to look expectantly along the road. Then he walkedslowly up the drive back to the house.

  "We will give him five or ten minutes," decided Carrados. "Harris isbehaving very naturally."

  Before even the shorter period had run out they were repaid. Atelegraph-boy cycled leisurely along the road, and, leaving hismachine at the gate, went up to the cottage. Evidently there was noreply, for in less than a minute he was trundling past them backagain. Round the bend an approaching tram clanged its bell noisily,and, quickened by the warning sound, Mr. Creake again appeared, thistime with a small portmanteau in his hand. With a backward glance hehurried on towards the next stopping-place, and, boarding the car asit slackened down, he was carried out of their knowledge.

  "Very convenient of Mr. Creake," remarked Carrados, with quietsatisfaction. "We will now get the order and go over the house in hisabsence. It might be useful to have a look at the wire as well."

  "It might, Max," acquiesced Mr. Carlyle a little dryly. "But if it is,as it probably is in Creake's pocket, how do you propose to get it?"

  "By going to the post office, Louis."

  "Quite so. Have you ever tried to see a copy of a telegram addressedto someone else?"

  "I don't think I have ever had occasion yet," admitted Carrados. "Haveyou?"

  "In one or two cases I have perhaps been an accessory to the act. Itis generally a matter either of extreme delicacy or considerableexpenditure."

  "Then for Hollyer's sake we will hope for the former here." And Mr.Carlyle smiled darkly and hinted that he was content to wait for afriendly revenge.

  A little later, having left the car at the beginning of the stragglingHigh Street, the two men called at the village post office. They hadalready visited the house agent and obtained an order to viewBrookbend Cottage, declining with some difficulty the clerk'spersistent offer to accompany them. The reason was soon forthcoming."As a matter of fact," explained the young man, "the present tenant isunder _our_ notice to leave."

  "Unsatisfactory, eh?" said Carrados encouragingly.

  "He's a corker," admitted the clerk, responding to the friendly tone."Fifteen months and not a doit of rent have we had. That's why Ishould have liked--"

  "We will make every allowance," replied Carrados.

  The post office occupied one side of a stationer's shop. It was notwithout some inward trepidation that Mr. Carlyle found himselfcommitted to the adventure. Carrados, on the other hand, was thepersonification of bland unconcern.

  "You have just sent a telegram to Brookbend Cottage," he said to theyoung lady behind the brasswork lattice. "We think it may have comeinaccurately and should like a repeat." He took out his purse. "Whatis the fee?"

  The request was evidently not a common one. "Oh," said the girluncertainly, "wait a minute, please." She turned to a pile of telegramduplicates behind the desk and ran a doubtful finger along the uppersheets. "I think this is all right. You want it repeated?"

  "Please." Just a tinge of questioning surprise gave point to thecourteous tone.

  "It will be fourpence. If there is an error the amount will berefunded."

  Carrados put down his coin and received his change.

  "Will it take long?" he inquired carelessly, as he pulled on hisglove.

  "You will most likely get it within a quarter of an hour," shereplied.

  "Now you've done it," commented Mr. Carlyle as they walked back totheir car. "How do you propose to get that telegram, Max?"

  "Ask for it," was the laconic explanation.

  And, stripping the artifice of any elaboration, he simply asked for itand got it. The car, posted at a convenient bend in the road, gave hima warning note as the telegraph-boy approached. Then Carrados took upa convincing attitude with his hand on the gate while Mr. Carlyle lenthimself to the semblance of a departing friend. That was theinevitable impression when the boy rode up.

  "Creake, Brookbend Cottage?" inquired Carrados, holding out his hand,and without a second thought the boy gave him the envelope and rodeaway on the assurance that there would be no reply.

  "Some day, my friend," remarked Mr. Carlyle, looking nervously towardthe unseen house, "your ingenuity will get you into a tight corner."

  "Then my ingenuity must get me out again," was the retort. "Let ushave our 'view' now. The telegram can wait."

  An untidy workwoman took their order and left them standing at thedoor. Presently a lady whom they both knew to be Mrs. Creake appeared.

  "You wish to see over the house?" she said, in a voice that wasutterly devoid of any interest. Then, without waiting for a reply, sheturned to the nearest door and threw it open.

  "This is the drawing-room," she said, standing aside.

  They walked into a sparsely furnished, damp-smelling room and made apretence of looking round, while Mrs. Creake remained silent andaloof.

  "The dining-room," she continued, crossing the narrow hall and openinganother door.

  Mr. Carlyle ventured a genial commonplace in the hope of inducingconversation. The result was not encouraging. Doubtless they wouldhave gone through the house under the same frigid guidance had notCarrados been at fault in a way that Mr. Carlyle had never known himfail before. In crossing the hall he stumbled over a mat and almostfell.

  "Pardon my clumsiness," he said to the lady. "I am, unfortunately,quite blind. But," he added, with a smile, to turn off the mishap,"even a blind man must have a house."

  The man who had eyes was surprised to see a flood of colour rush intoMrs. Creake's face.

  "Blind!" she exclaimed, "oh, I beg your pardon. Why did you not tellme? You might have fallen."

  "I generally manage fairly well," he replied. "But, of course, in astrange house--"

  She put her hand on his arm very lightly.

  "You must let me guide you, just a little," she said.

  The house, without being large, was full of passages and inconvenientturnings. Carrados asked an occasional question and found Mrs. Creakequite amiable without effusion. Mr. Carlyle followed them from room toroom in the hope, though scarcely the expectation, of learningsomething that might be useful.

  "This is the last one. It is the largest bedroom," said their guide.Only two of the upper rooms were fully furnished and Mr. Carlyle atonce saw, as Carrados knew without seeing, that this was the one whichthe Creakes occupied.

  "A very pleasant outlook," declared Mr. Carlyle.

  "Oh, I suppose so," admitted the lady vaguely. The room, in fact,looked over the leafy garden and the road beyond. It had a Frenchwindow opening on to a small balcony, and to this, under the strangeinfluence that always attracted him to light, Carrados walked.

  "I expect that there is a certain amount of repair needed?" he said,after standing there a moment.

  "I am afraid there would be," she confessed.

  "I ask because there is a sheet of metal on the floor here," hecontinued. "Now that, in an old house, spells dry rot to the waryobserver."

  "My husband said that the rain, which comes in a little under thewindow, was rotting the boards there," she replied. "He put that downrecently. I had not noticed anything myself."

  It was the first time she had mentioned her husband; Mr. Carlylepricked up his ears.

  "Ah, that is a less serious matter," said Carrados. "May I step out onto the balcony?"

  "Oh yes, if you like to." Then, as he appeared
to be fumbling at thecatch, "Let me open it for you."

  But the window was already open, and Carrados, facing the variouspoints of the compass, took in the bearings.

  "A sunny, sheltered corner," he remarked. "An ideal spot for adeck-chair and a book."

  She shrugged her shoulders half contemptuously.

  "I dare say," she replied, "but I never use it."

  "Sometimes, surely," he persisted mildly. "It would be my favouriteretreat. But then--"

  "I was going to say that I had never