even been out on it, but thatwould not be quite true. It has two uses for me, both equallyromantic; I occasionally shake a duster from it, and when my husbandreturns late without his latchkey he wakes me up and I come out hereand drop him mine."
Further revelation of Mr. Creake's nocturnal habits was cut off,greatly to Mr. Carlyle's annoyance, by a cough of unmistakablesignificance from the foot of the stairs. They had heard a trade cartdrive up to the gate, a knock at the door, and the heavy-footed womantramp along the hall.
"Excuse me a minute, please," said Mrs. Creake.
"Louis," said Carrados, in a sharp whisper, the moment they werealone, "stand against the door."
With extreme plausibility Mr. Carlyle began to admire a picture sosituated that while he was there it was impossible to open the doormore than a few inches. From that position he observed his confederatego through the curious procedure of kneeling down on the bedroom floorand for a full minute pressing his ear to the sheet of metal that hadalready engaged his attention. Then he rose to his feet, nodded,dusted his trousers, and Mr. Carlyle moved to a less equivocalposition.
"What a beautiful rose-tree grows up your balcony," remarked Carrados,stepping into the room as Mrs. Creake returned. "I suppose you arevery fond of gardening?"
"I detest it," she replied.
"But this _Gloire_, so carefully trained--?"
"Is it?" she replied. "I think my husband was nailing it up recently."By some strange fatality Carrados's most aimless remarks seemed toinvolve the absent Mr. Creake. "Do you care to see the garden?"
The garden proved to be extensive and neglected. Behind the house waschiefly orchard. In front, some semblance of order had been kept up;here it was lawn and shrubbery, and the drive they had walked along.Two things interested Carrados: the soil at the foot of the balcony,which he declared on examination to be particularly suitable forroses, and the fine chestnut-tree in the corner by the road.
As they walked back to the car Mr. Carlyle lamented that they hadlearned so little of Creake's movements.
"Perhaps the telegram will tell us something," suggested Carrados."Read it, Louis."
Mr. Carlyle cut open the envelope, glanced at the enclosure, and inspite of his disappointment could not restrain a chuckle.
"My poor Max," he explained, "you have put yourself to an amount ofingenious trouble for nothing. Creake is evidently taking a few days'holiday and prudently availed himself of the Meteorological Officeforecast before going. Listen: '_Immediate prospect for London warmand settled. Further outlook cooler but fine._' Well, well; I did geta pound of tomatoes for _my_ fourpence."
"You certainly scored there, Louis," admitted Carrados, with humorousappreciation. "I wonder," he added speculatively, "whether it isCreake's peculiar taste usually to spend his week-end holiday inLondon."
"Eh?" exclaimed Mr. Carlyle, looking at the words again, "by gad,that's rum, Max. They go to Weston-super-Mare. Why on earth should hewant to know about London?"
"I can make a guess, but before we are satisfied I must come hereagain. Take another look at that kite, Louis. Are there a few yards ofstring hanging loose from it?"
"Yes, there are."
"Rather thick string--unusually thick for the purpose?"
"Yes, but how do you know?"
As they drove home again Carrados explained, and Mr. Carlyle sataghast, saying incredulously: "Good God, Max, is it possible?"
An hour later he was satisfied that it was possible. In reply to hisinquiry someone in his office telephoned him the information that"they" had left Paddington by the four-thirty for Weston.
It was more than a week after his introduction to Carrados thatLieutenant Hollyer had a summons to present himself at The Turretsagain. He found Mr. Carlyle already there and the two friends wereawaiting his arrival.
"I stayed in all day after hearing from you this morning, Mr.Carrados," he said, shaking hands. "When I got your second message Iwas all ready to walk straight out of the house. That's how I did itin the time. I hope everything is all right?"
"Excellent," replied Carrados. "You'd better have something before westart. We probably have a long and perhaps an exciting night beforeus."
"And certainly a wet one," assented the lieutenant. "It was thunderingover Mulling way as I came along."
"That is why you are here," said his host. "We are waiting for acertain message before we start, and in the meantime you may as wellunderstand what we expect to happen. As you saw, there is athunderstorm coming on. The Meteorological Office morning forecastpredicted it for the whole of London if the conditions remained. Thatis why I kept you in readiness. Within an hour it is now inevitablethat we shall experience a deluge. Here and there damage will be doneto trees and buildings; here and there a person will probably bestruck and killed."
"Yes."
"It is Mr. Creake's intention that his wife should be among thevictims."
"I don't exactly follow," said Hollyer, looking from one man to theother. "I quite admit that Creake would be immensely relieved if sucha thing did happen, but the chance is surely an absurdly remote one."
"Yet unless we intervene it is precisely what a coroner's jury willdecide has happened. Do you know whether your brother-in-law has anypractical knowledge of electricity, Mr. Hollyer?"
"I cannot say. He was so reserved, and we really knew so little ofhim--"
"Yet in 1896 an Austin Creake contributed an article on 'AlternatingCurrents' to the American _Scientific World_. That would argue afairly intimate acquaintanceship."
"But do you mean that he is going to direct a flash of lightning?"
"Only into the minds of the doctor who conducts the post-mortem, andthe coroner. This storm, the opportunity for which he has been waitingfor weeks, is merely the cloak to his act. The weapon which he hasplanned to use--scarcely less powerful than lightning but much moretractable--is the high voltage current of electricity that flows alongthe tram wire at his gate."
"Oh!" exclaimed Lieutenant Hollyer, as the sudden revelation struckhim.
"Some time between eleven o'clock to-night--about the hour when yoursister goes to bed--and one thirty in the morning--the time up towhich he can rely on the current--Creake will throw a stone up at thebalcony window. Most of his preparation has long been made; it onlyremains for him to connect up a short length to the window handle anda longer one at the other end to tap the live wire. That done, he willwake his wife in the way I have said. The moment she moves the catchof the window--and he has carefully filed its parts to ensure perfectcontact--she will be electrocuted as effectually as if she sat in theexecutioner's chair in Sing Sing prison."
"But what are we doing here!" exclaimed Hollyer, starting to his feet,pale and horrified. "It is past ten now and anything may happen."
"Quite natural, Mr. Hollyer," said Carrados reassuringly, "but youneed have no anxiety. Creake is being watched, the house is beingwatched, and your sister is as safe as if she slept to-night inWindsor Castle. Be assured that whatever happens he will not beallowed to complete his scheme; but it is desirable to let himimplicate himself to the fullest limit. Your brother-in-law, Mr.Hollyer, is a man with a peculiar capacity for taking pains."
"He is a damned cold-blooded scoundrel!" exclaimed the young officerfiercely. "When I think of Millicent five years ago--"
"Well, for that matter, an enlightened nation has decided thatelectrocution is the most humane way of removing its superfluouscitizens," suggested Carrados mildly. "He is certainly aningenious-minded gentleman. It is his misfortune that in Mr. Carlylehe was fated to be opposed by an even subtler brain--"
"No, no! Really, Max!" protested the embarrassed gentleman.
"Mr. Hollyer will be able to judge for himself when I tell him that itwas Mr. Carlyle who first drew attention to the significance of theabandoned kite," insisted Carrados firmly. "Then, of course, itsobject became plain to me--as indeed to anyone. For ten minutes,perhaps, a wire must be carried from the overhead line to thechestnut-tree. Creake has everything in his
favour, but it is justwithin possibility that the driver of an inopportune train mightnotice the appendage. What of that? Why, for more than a week he hasseen a derelict kite with its yards of trailing string hanging in thetree. A very calculating mind, Mr. Hollyer. It would be interesting toknow what line of action Mr. Creake has mapped out for himselfafterwards. I expect he has half-a-dozen artistic little touches uphis sleeve. Possibly he would merely singe his wife's hair, burn herfeet with a red-hot poker, shiver the glass of the French window, andbe content with that to let well alone. You see,
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