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diff --git a/75589-h/75589-h.htm b/75589-h/75589-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..687e106 --- /dev/null +++ b/75589-h/75589-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14927 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The dark eyes of London | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +/* Headers and Divisions */ + h1, h2, h3, h4 {margin:4em 0em 1em 0em; page-break-before:always; text-align:center;} + +/* General */ + + body {margin:0% 5% 0% 5%;} + + .nobreak {page-break-before:avoid;} + + p {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:justify; text-indent:1em;} + .center {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + .noindent {text-indent:0em;} + .spacer {margin:0.5em 0em 0.5em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + + .toc_l {font-variant:small-caps; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + .rt1 {margin:0em 1em 0em 0em; text-align:right; text-indent:0em;} + + .chap_sub {font-size:80%;} + .font60 {font-size:60%;} + .font70 {font-size:70%;} + .font80 {font-size:80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + +/* special formatting */ + + blockquote {margin:1em 2em 1em 2em;} + + .mt1 {margin-top:1em;} + .mt2 {margin-top:2em;} + .mt3 {margin-top:3em;} + .mt4 {margin-top:4em;} + .mt6 {margin-top:4em;} + .mb1 {margin-bottom:1em;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75589 ***</div> + +<h1> +THE DARK EYES<br> +OF LONDON +</h1> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="font80">BY</span><br> +EDGAR WALLACE +</p> + +<p class="center mt2"> +<i>Few dared whisper their<br> +name—the gang of blind<br> +giants that lurked in<br> +London’s foulest corners!<br> +But Inspector Larry Holt<br> +challenged them to a<br> +monstrous game in the dark.</i> +</p> + +<p class="center mt4"> +<span class="font80">PUBLISHED FOR</span><br> +THE CRIME CLUB, INC.<br> +BY DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY, INC.<br> +<span class="font80">GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK, 1929</span> +</p> + + +<h2> +CONTENTS +</h2> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch01">I. LARRY HOLT IN PARIS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch02">II. SIR JOHN HASON</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch03">III. THE SECRETARY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch04">IV. FLASH FRED SEES A CLIENT</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch05">V. THE WILL</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch06">VI. THE WRITING IN BRAILLE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch07">VII. A TELEGRAM FROM CALGARY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch08">VIII. THE MEMORIAL STONE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch09">IX. THE MAN WHO LOST A FINGER</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch10">X. MR. STRAUSS “DROPS”</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch11">XI. BURGLARS AT THE YARD</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch12">XII. FANNY WELDON TELLS THE TRUTH</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch13">XIII. TODD’S HOME</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch14">XIV. FANNY HAS A VISITOR</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch15">XV. THE FIGHT IN THE DARK</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch16">XVI. MR. GROGAN MEETS A LADY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch17">XVII. THE INSURANCE MONEY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch18">XVIII. AT THE PAWNBROKER’S</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch19">XIX. IN FLASH FRED’S FLAT</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch20">XX. THE WOMAN WHO DREW THE INSURANCE MONEY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch21">XXI. WHEN DIANA FAINTED</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch22">XXII. THE MAN WHO WAS DEAF</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch23">XXIII. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF DIANA WARD</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch24">XXIV. THE LAUNDRY YARD</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch25">XXV. WHAT HAPPENED TO DIANA</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch26">XXVI. BACK AGAIN</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch27">XXVII. “JOHN DEARBORN IS NOT BLIND”</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch28">XXVIII. WHO RUNS DEARBORN?</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch29">XXIX. FLASH FRED’S STORY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch30">XXX. IN THE TUBULAR ROOM</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch31">XXXI. FRED LENDS HIS KEYS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch32">XXXII. A BREAKFAST PROPOSAL</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch33">XXXIII. LEW</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch34">XXXIV. LARRY INSPECTS A HOUSE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch35">XXXV. THE DEATH ROOM</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch36">XXXVI. THE WOMAN IN THE GARAGE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch37">XXXVII. THE HEIRESS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch38">XXXVIII. THE END OF JAKE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch39">XXXIX. THE GET-AWAY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch40">XL. A LETTER FROM LARRY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch41">XLI. DIANA PULLS A LEVER</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch42">XLII. IN THE TRAP</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch43">XLIII. THE PASSING OF DAVID</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch44">XLIV. THE END OF THE CHASE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch45">XLV. THREE CIGARETTES</a> +</p> + + +<h2> +THE DARK EYES OF LONDON +</h2> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="ch01"> +CHAPTER I.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">LARRY HOLT IN PARIS</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Larry Holt</span> sat before the Café de la Paix, watching the stream of +life flow east and west along the Boulevard des Italiens. The breath +of spring was in the air; the trees were bursting into buds of vivid +green; the cloud-flecked skies were blue; and a flood of golden +sunshine brought out the colours of the kiosks, and gave an artistic +value even to the flaring advertisements. Crowded motor-buses rumbled +by, little taxis dashed wildly in and out of the traffic, to the +mortal peril of unsuspecting pedestrians. +</p> + +<p> +A gendarme, with cloak over his shoulder, stood in a conventional +attitude on the kerb, his hand behind him, staring at nothing, and +along the sidewalk there were hurrying bareheaded girls, slow-moving +old men, and marching poilus. Itinerant vendors of wares loafed past +the tables of the café, dusky-faced Arabs with their carpets on their +arms, seedy-looking men who hawked bundles of picture post cards and +would produce, at the slightest encouragement, cards which were not +for the public gaze. All these things and people were a delight to +Larry Holt, who had just returned from Berlin after four years’ +strenuous work in France and Germany, and felt in that holiday spirit +to which even the mind of a detective will ascend. +</p> + +<p> +The position occupied by Larry Holt was something of a mystery to the +officials of Scotland Yard. His rank was Inspector, his work was the +administrative work of a Commissioner; and it was generally understood +that he was in the line for the first vacant assistant +commissionership that came along. The question of his rank, of his +prospects, did not trouble Larry at that particular moment. He sat +there, absorbing the sweetness of spring with every breath he drew. +His good-looking face was lit up with the sheer joy of living, and +there was in his heart a relief, a sense of rest, which he had not +experienced for many a long day. +</p> + +<p> +He revealed himself a fairly tall man when he rose, after paying the +waiter, and strolled round the corner to his hotel. It was a slow +progress he made, his hands in his pockets, his soft felt hat at the +back of his head, a half-smile on his parted lips as he gripped a long +black cigarette holder between his white teeth. +</p> + +<p> +He came into the busy vestibule of the hotel, the one spot in Paris +where people hustle and rush, where bell-boys really run, and even the +phlegmatic Briton seems in a frantic hurry, and he was walking towards +the elevator, when, through the glass door leading to the palm court, +he saw a man in an attitude of elegant repose, leaning back in a big +chair and puffing at a cigar. +</p> + +<p> +Larry grinned and hesitated. He knew this lean-faced man, so radiantly +attired, his fingers and cravat flashing with diamonds, and in a +spirit of mischief he passed through the swing doors and came up to +the lounger. +</p> + +<p> +“If it isn’t my dear old friend Fred!” he said softly. +</p> + +<p> +Flash Fred, Continental crook and gambler, leapt to his feet with a +look of alarm at the sight of this unexpected visitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Mr. Holt!” he stammered. “You’re the last person in the world +I expected to see——” +</p> + +<p> +“Or wanted to see,” said Larry, shaking his head reproachfully. “What +prosperity! Why, Fred, you’re all dressed up like a Christmas tree.” +</p> + +<p> +Flash Fred grinned uncomfortably, but made a brave show of +indifference. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going straight now, Mr. Holt,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Liar you are, and liar you will always be,” said Larry without heat. +</p> + +<p> +“I swear to you on the Book——” began Fred vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +“If,” said Larry without resentment, “you stood between your dead aunt +and your failing uncle, and took an oath on <i>Foxe’s Book of Martyrs</i>, +I wouldn’t believe you.” +</p> + +<p> +He gazed admiringly at Fred’s many adornments, at the big pin in his +tie, at the triple chain of gold across his neatly tailored waistcoat, +at his white spats and patent shoes, and then brought his eyes back to +the perfectly brushed hair. +</p> + +<p> +“You look sweet,” he said. “What is the game? Not,” he added, “that I +expect you to tell me, but it must be a pretty prosperous game, Fred.” +</p> + +<p> +The man licked his dry lips. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m in business,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Whose business are you in now?” asked Larry, interested. “And how did +you get in? With a jemmy or a stick of dynamite? That’s a new line for +you, Fred. As a rule, you confine yourself strictly to picking crumbs +of gold off the unwary youth of the land—and,” he added +significantly, “in picking the pockets of the recently deceased.” +</p> + +<p> +The man’s face went red. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think I had anything to do with that murder in +Montpellier?” he protested heatedly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you shot the unfortunate young man,” admitted Larry, +“but you were certainly seen bending over his body and searching his +clothes.” +</p> + +<p> +“For identification,” said Fred virtuously. “I wanted to find out who +did it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were also seen talking to the man who did it,” said Larry +remorsefully. “An old lady, a Madame Prideaux, looking out of her +bedroom window, saw you holding him and then saw you let him go. I +presume he ‘dropped.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +Fred said nothing at first. He hated a pretended gentleman who +descended to the vulgarity of employing the word “drop” for “bribe.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s two years ago, Mr. Holt,” he said. “I don’t see why you should +rake that thing up against me. The examining magistrate gave me a +clean bill.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry laughed and dropped his hand on the man’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Anyway, I’m off duty now, Fred. I’m going away to enjoy myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ain’t coming to London, I suppose?” asked the man, looking at him +quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Larry, and thought he saw signs of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going over to-day,” said Fred, in a conversational tone. “I was +hoping we’d be fellow-passengers.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m grieved to shatter your hopes,” said Larry, “but I’m going in the +other direction. So long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good luck!” said Fred, and looked after him with a face which did not +indicate any desire for Larry Holt’s fortune. +</p> + +<p> +Larry went up to his room and found his man brushing his clothes and +laying them out on his bed. Patrick Sunny, the valet he had endured +for two years, was a serious young man with staring eyes and a round +face, and he grew suddenly energetic on Larry’s appearance. He brushed +and he hissed, for he had been in a cavalry regiment. +</p> + +<p> +Larry strolled to the window and looked down on the Place de l’Opéra +at the busy scene. +</p> + +<p> +“Sunny,” he said, “you needn’t brush those dress things of mine. Pack +’em.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Sunny. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to Monte Carlo by the night train.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, sir?” said Sunny, who would have said exactly the same if +Larry had expressed his intention of going to the Sahara or the North +Pole. +</p> + +<p> +“To Monte Carlo, Sunny!” chortled Larry. “For six bright, happy, +expensive weeks—start packing at once.” +</p> + +<p> +He picked up the telephone from the writing-table and called the +Travel Bureau. +</p> + +<p> +“I want a sleeper and a first-class reservation for Monte Carlo by +to-night’s train,” he said. “Monte Carlo,” he repeated louder. “No, +not Calais. I have not the slightest intention of going to +Calais—thanks.” He hung up the receiver and stood looking at his +servitor. “I hate talking to you, Sunny,” he said, “but I must talk to +somebody, and I hate your name. Who gave you that horrible name?” +</p> + +<p> +“My forefathers,” said Sunny primly, continuing his brushing without +looking up. +</p> + +<p> +“They rather missed the ’bus, didn’t they?” asked Larry. “For if there +is anything less like a bright spring day than you, I should like to +avoid it. But we’re southward bound, Sunny, to this Côte d’Azur, to +the land of flowers and folly, to the orange-groves—do you like +oranges, Sunny?” +</p> + +<p> +“I prefer walnuts, sir,” said Sunny, “but fruit of any kind means +nothing to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re going to be criminals and take people’s money from them,” he +said, “instead of nosing about the criminal practices of others. No +more robberies, defalcations, forgeries, and murders, Sunny. Six weeks +of <i>dolce far niente</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t play that game myself, sir,” said Sunny. “I prefer cribbage.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry picked up the afternoon paper and had turned its columns. There +were quite a few items of news to remind him of his profession and its +calls. There was a big bank robbery at Lyons, a mail coach had been +held up in Belgium by armed robbers; and then he came to a paragraph. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +The body of a man picked up on the steps leading down from the Thames +Embankment has been identified as Mr. Gordon Stuart, a rich Canadian. +It is believed to be a case of suicide. Mr. Stuart had been spending +the evening with some friends at the theatre, and disappeared between +the acts, and was not seen again until his body was discovered. A +coroner’s inquest will be held in due course. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +He read the paragraph twice, and frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“A man doesn’t usually go out between the acts of a play and commit +suicide—unless the play is very bad,” he said, and the obedient Sunny +said, “No, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +He threw the newspaper down. +</p> + +<p> +“Sunny, I’m getting into bad habits. I’m taking an interest in lunacy, +and for that same reason I notice that you’ve folded my trousers so +that the crease comes down the side. Unfold ’em, you lazy devil!” +</p> + +<p> +He spent the afternoon making preparations for his journey, and at +half-past six, with his trunks in the hands of the porters and Sunny +carrying his overcoat, he was settling his bill at the cashier’s desk, +had folded up the receipt and was putting it in his pocket when a +bell-boy came to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Holt?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s my name,” said Larry, and looked suspiciously at the thing in +the boy’s hand. “A telegram?” he said. “I don’t want to see it.” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, he took it in his hand and opened the blue paper with a +disapproving grimace and read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Very urgent, on special police service. Clear the line. Larry Holt, +Grand Hotel, Paris. +</p> + +<p> +Very worried about Stuart drowning stop case presents unusual features +stop would be personally grateful if you would come over at once and +conduct investigation. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +It was signed by the Chief Commissioner, who was not only his superior +but his personal friend, and Larry put the telegram in his pocket with +a groan. +</p> + +<p> +“What time do we arrive in Monte Carlo, sir?” asked Sunny when he +joined him. +</p> + +<p> +“About this day twelvemonth,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, sir?” said Sunny, politely interested. “It must be a very +long way.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch02"> +CHAPTER II.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">SIR JOHN HASON</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Flash Fred</span>, whose other name was Grogan, had a genuine grievance; +for, after he had been solemnly assured by a reputable officer of the +law that he intended going to Monte Carlo, he had found him on the +Paris boat train, and though he carefully avoided him he knew that +Larry was well aware that they were fellow passengers. +</p> + +<p> +At Victoria Fred made a rapid exit from the station, not being +perfectly satisfied in his mind that Larry’s business in London was +altogether unconnected with Fred’s own activities. Larry saw the +disappearing back of the crook, and smiled for the first time since he +had left Paris. +</p> + +<p> +“Take my things to the flat,” he said to Sunny. “I’m going to Scotland +Yard. I may be home to-night, I may not be home until to-morrow +night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I put out your dress things?” said Sunny. All that concerned +him was the gentlemanly appearance of his employer. To Sunny the day +was divided into three parts—tweed, broadcloth, and pyjamas. +</p> + +<p> +“No—yes—anything you like,” said his master. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” responded the obliging Sunny. +</p> + +<p> +Larry drove straight to the Yard, and had some difficulty in making an +entry, because he was unknown to the local officials; but presently he +was ushered into the big room where Sir John Hason rose from his desk +and came across to meet him with outstretched hand. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Larry,” he said, “it is awfully good of you to forgo your +holiday. You are a brick! Of course I knew you would come, and I’ve +given you room forty-seven and the smartest secretary I have seen in +Scotland Yard for many a day.” +</p> + +<p> +They were old friends and old schoolmates, John Hason and Larry Holt, +and between the two men there was an affection and a confidence which +is rarely found between men in the same profession. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know forty-seven,” said Larry, taking off his overcoat with a +smile, “but I’ll be happy to know the smartest secretary in Scotland +Yard. What’s his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t a he, it’s a she,” smiled Hason. “Miss Diana Ward, who’s +been with me for about six months and is really the smartest and most +reliable girl I’ve ever had working with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a female secretary!” said Larry gloomily, then brightened. “What +you say goes, John; and even this paragon of virtue doesn’t worry me. +I suppose she’s got a voice like a file and chews gum?” +</p> + +<p> +“She <i>is</i> rather unprepossessing, but looks aren’t everything,” said +Sir John dryly. “Now sit down, old man; I want to talk to you. It is +about this Stuart case,” he began, offering his cigarette box to the +other. “We only discovered yesterday that Stuart was a very rich man. +He has been living in this country for nine months at a boarding-house +in Nottingham Place, Marylebone. He was a mysterious individual, who +went nowhere, had very few friends, and was extraordinarily reticent. +It was known, of course, that he had money, and his bankers in London, +who revealed his identity when they discovered he was dead, were in +his secret; that is to say, his secret so far as his identity is +concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“When you say he went nowhere, what do you mean? Did he stay in the +boarding-house all the time?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m coming to that,” said Sir John. “He did go somewhere, but why, +nobody knows. Every afternoon it was his practice to take a motor +drive, and invariably he went to the same place—to a little village +in Kent, about twenty-five miles out. He left the motor-car at one end +of the village, walked through the place, and was gone for a couple of +hours. We have made inquiries and we have discovered this, that he +spent quite a lot of time in the church, an old Saxon edifice the +foundations of which were laid a thousand years ago. Regularly as the +clock he’d return after two hours’ absence, get into the car, which +was hired, and be driven back to Nottingham Place.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was the name of the village?” +</p> + +<p> +“Beverley Manor,” said the Chief Commissioner. “Well, to resume. On +Wednesday night, departing from his usual practice, he accepted the +invitation of a Dr. Stephen Judd to go to the first night of a new +show at the Macready Theatre. Dr. Stephen Judd is the managing +director of the Greenwich Insurance Company, a small affair and quite +a family concern, but having a pretty good name in the City. Dr. Judd +is a genial person who dabbles in art and has a very beautiful house +at Chelsea. Judd had a box for the first night of the show—which is a +perfectly rotten one, judging by the newspaper notices—Box A. Stuart +came, and, according to Judd, was very restless. In the interval +between the second and third acts he slipped out of the theatre, +unobserved, and did not come back, and was not seen again until we +found his body on the Thames Embankment.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of a night was it?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Bright in the early part, but rather misty and inclined to be foggy +later,” said Sir John. “In fact, the constable who was patrolling that +particular beat where the body was found reported that it was very +thick between half-past three and half-past four.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. “Is there any possibility of his having mistaken his way +in the fog and fallen into the water?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever,” replied Sir John emphatically. “Between the hour he +disappeared and half-past two in the morning the Embankment was +entirely clear of fog, and he was not seen. It was a very bright night +until that hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“And here is another curious circumstance,” the Commissioner went on. +“When he was discovered, he was lying on the steps with his legs in +the water, his body being clear—and,” he added slowly, “the tide was +still rising.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry looked at him in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say that he hadn’t been deposited there by the falling +tide?” he asked incredulously. “How could he be there, with his legs +in the water, when the tide was low, as it must have been, when he +came upon the steps?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is my contention,” nodded Sir John. “Unless he was drowned +immediately he left the theatre when the tide was high and was +falling, it seems almost impossible that he could have been left on +the steps at daybreak, when the tide was rising.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry rubbed his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s queer,” he said. “There’s no doubt about his being drowned?” +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever,” replied the Commissioner, and pulled open a drawer, +lifting out a little tray on which were a number of articles. “These +were the only things found in his pockets,” he said. “A watch and +chain, a cigar case, and this roll of brown paper.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry took up the latter object. It was about an inch in length, and +was still sodden with water. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no writing on it,” said Sir John. “I opened it when it first +came in, but thought it better to roll it back and leave it as it was +for another inspection when it dried.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry was looking at the watch, which was an ordinary gold +half-hunter. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing there,” he said, snapping back the case, “except that it +stopped at twenty past twelve—presumably the hour of his death.” +</p> + +<p> +Sir John nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“The chain is gold and platinum,” mused Larry, “and at the end is +a—what?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a little cylinder of gold about an inch and a half long. +</p> + +<p> +“A gold pencil fitted in here,” said Larry. “Have they found the +pencil?” +</p> + +<p> +Sir John shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, that is all we discovered. Apparently Stuart was not in the habit +of wearing rings. I’ll have these sent to your office. Now will you +take on the case?” +</p> + +<p> +“But what is the case?” asked Larry slowly. “Do you suspect foul +play?” +</p> + +<p> +The Commissioner was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“I do and I don’t,” he said. “I merely say that here are the elements +of a terrible crime. But for the fact that he has been found on the +steps with the tide still rising, and it was obviously low when he +died, I should have thought it was an ordinary case of drowning, and I +should not have opposed a verdict of accidental death if the jury +reached that conclusion.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry looked at the watch again. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s strange,” he said, speaking half to himself, and then: “I’ll +take these things into my room, if I may.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expected you would want them,” said the Commissioner. “Now will you +see the body?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll see Dr. Judd first,” he said. “Can you give me his address?” +</p> + +<p> +Sir John looked up at the clock over his mantelpiece. +</p> + +<p> +“He will be at his office. He’s one of those indefatigable persons who +work late. Number 17 Bloomsbury Pavement; you can’t miss the +building.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry gathered up the tray and moved to the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Now for the unattractive secretary,” he said, and Sir John smiled. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch03"> +CHAPTER III.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE SECRETARY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Room</span> No. 47 was on the floor above that where the Commissioner’s +office was situated. It lay at the end of a long corridor, facing the +detective. He carried the tray in one hand and opened the door with +the other, walking into a comfortable little bureau. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo!” he said in surprise. “Am I in the wrong office?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl, who had risen from her desk, was young and extremely pretty. +A mass of dull gold hair, dressed low over her broad forehead, gave an +added emphasis to clear gray eyes that were regarding him with +surprise. She was neat and slim of figure, and when she smiled Larry +thought he had hardly ever seen so gracious and pleasant a lady. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Inspector Holt’s office,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” said Larry, coming slowly into the room and shutting the +door behind him. He went to the other desk and put down the tray, and +the girl looked puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Inspector Holt’s office,” she repeated. “Are those things for +him?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded, looking at the girl in wonder. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” he asked suddenly, pointing to a glass and a jug on a +side table which was covered with a small white cloth. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that is for Inspector Holt,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Larry looked into the jug. +</p> + +<p> +“Milk?” he said in wonder. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the girl. “Inspector Holt is rather old, you know, and +when I asked the Commissioner if he would like something after his +journey, the Commissioner suggested invalid’s food and milk; but I +can’t make invalid’s food here, and——” +</p> + +<p> +His shriek of merriment stopped her, and she stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Inspector Holt,” he said, drying his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You?” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m the lad,” said he complacently. “John, the Commissioner, has +played a joke on you, miss—I don’t know your name. Now, would you be +good enough to ask the aged Miss Ward to step in?” +</p> + +<p> +A smile twitched her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Miss Ward,” she said, and it was Larry’s turn to stare. Then he +put out his hand with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Ward,” he said, “we’re companions in misfortune. Each has been +equally a victim of a perfidious police commissioner. I’m extremely +glad to meet you—and relieved.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a little relieved,” laughed the girl as she went to her desk, and +Larry, watching every movement, thought she floated rather than +walked. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir John said you were sixty and asthmatic, and told me to be careful +that no draughts should come into the office. I’ve had a draught +excluder specially fitted this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry thought a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it’s as well I didn’t go to Monte Carlo,” he said, and sat +down at his desk. “Now let us start, shall we?” +</p> + +<p> +She opened her book and took up a pencil, while Larry examined the +trinkets that lay on the tray. +</p> + +<p> +“Take this down, please,” he said. “Watch made Gildman of Toronto, +half-hunter, jewel-balanced; No. A778432. No scratches on the inside.” +He opened the case and snapped it again, then tried the stem winder. +“Wound less than six hours before death took place.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this the Stuart case?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Larry. “Do you know anything about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only what the Commissioner’s told me,” she replied. “Poor man! But +I’m getting so used to horrors now that I’m almost hardened. I suppose +one feels that way if one’s a medical student. I was a nurse for two +years in a blind asylum,” she added, “and that helps to toughen you, +doesn’t it?” She smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose it does,” said Larry thoughtfully, and wondered how young +she had been when she started to work for her living. He put her at +twenty-one and thought that was a fairly generous estimate of her age. +“Do you like this work?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I love it,” she said. “Sir John says that one of these days he’s +going to make me a——” She hesitated for a word. +</p> + +<p> +“A sleuth? Don’t say you’re going to be a sleuth,” begged Larry. “I +thought we had this business to ourselves. Female competition +to-day——” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re neglecting your work, Mr. Holt,” she said. “I’ve got as far as +the watch.” +</p> + +<p> +He chuckled a little and resumed his inspection. +</p> + +<p> +“Chain made of platinum and gold, length twelve inches, swivel at end, +and container of a gold pencil—at least, I presume it was gold,” he +dictated. +</p> + +<p> +“The pencil wasn’t found?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she said. “I particularly asked the sergeant who brought the +goods whether the pencil had been found.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry looked at her in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you notice that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I noticed that, too,” said Diana calmly. “The knife has +gone, too.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked across at her in genuine amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“What knife?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I guessed it was a knife,” said she. “The swivel is too large to be +attached to a pencil only. If you look you will see a little ring—it +has probably got entangled with the ring holding the pencil. It was +broken when it came in, but I pressed it together. It looked as if +somebody had wrenched it off. I guessed the knife,” she said, “because +men so often carry a little gold penknife there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Or a cigar-cutter?” suggested Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought of that,” she said, nodding, “but they’d hardly have taken +the trouble to nip off a cigar-cutter.” +</p> + +<p> +“They?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Whoever killed Stuart,” she said quietly, “would have removed all +weapons from his possession.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at the chain again and saw the other ring, and wondered why +he had not noticed it before. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’re right,” he said after a further examination. “The ring +is much larger—it had slid up the chain, by the way—and there are +distinct scratches where the knife was wrenched off. Hm!” He put down +the object on the table, and looked at his own watch. “Have you seen +the rest of the things?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve only examined the watch.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked around for some receptacle, and saw a cupboard in the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this empty?” he asked, and she nodded. “Then we’ll leave the +examination of these until I come back. I have to see somebody.” +</p> + +<p> +He slipped the tray into the closet and locked the door, handing the +key to the girl. He was halfway to the door when he remembered. +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t be here when I come back? I suppose you have some sort of +office hours?” +</p> + +<p> +“I make it a practice never to stay after two o’clock in the morning,” +she said gravely. +</p> + +<p> +She met the frank admiration in his eyes without embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I have ever met a girl like you,” he said slowly, and +as though he were speaking his thoughts aloud. +</p> + +<p> +She flushed and dropped her gaze. Then she laughed and looked at him +again, and he thought that her eyes were like stars. +</p> + +<p> +“It may be that we have never met anybody like each other,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +And Larry Holt left Scotland Yard, conscious that a new and very +potent interest had come into his life. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch04"> +CHAPTER IV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">FLASH FRED SEES A CLIENT</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Flash Fred</span> had seen Larry Holt off the premises of the railway +terminus; for, though he had left the station building first, he had +waited until Larry’s taxi had gone. +</p> + +<p> +He had a particular desire that he should not be shadowed that +evening, and to this was engrafted a wholesome respect for the +perspicacity and genius of Larry Holt. On the Continent of Europe, +whereever crook met crook, it was generally and unanimously agreed +that the first person they wished to meet on the other side of the +Styx was Larry Holt. Only they did not say “on the other side of the +Styx”; they said, simply and crudely, “in hell.” The ruthlessness of +this man, once he got his nose on to the trail, was a tradition and a +legend; and Fred, more than any other man, had reason to fear him. +</p> + +<p> +He gave Holt ten minutes’ start and then doubled back to the station, +left his suitcase at the cloak room and came out at one of the side +entrances where the cabs were ranked, and, choosing the first of +these, he gave an address. Ten minutes later he was set down in a +quiet Bloomsbury square, devoted in the main to lawyers’ offices. +There was an exception to these. The building at which he alighted was +a narrow and tall erection of red brick, and though no light showed in +the lower office, there was a subdued gleam in the windows of the +upper floor. A commissionaire on duty in the hall looked at Fred +askance. +</p> + +<p> +“The office has been closed for hours, sir,” he said, shaking his +head. “We open at nine in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is Dr. Judd on the premises?” asked Flash Fred, shifting his cigar +from one corner of his mouth to the other. +</p> + +<p> +The commissionaire hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Judd is still busy, sir, and I don’t think he wants to see +anybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you don’t, don’t you?” sneered Fred. “Now, you go upstairs to the +governor and tell him that Mr. Walter Smith wants to see him. Don’t +forget the name—it’s an unusual one,” he added humorously. +</p> + +<p> +The commissionaire looked dubiously at the visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall only get into trouble,” he grumbled, as he stepped into one +of the two small elevators and, pressing the automatic knob, he went +quickly up out of view. +</p> + +<p> +Apparently Mr. Judd’s office was situated on the top floor, for it was +some time before the whine of the motor ceased. After a while it began +again, and the commissionaire descended. +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll see you, sir,” he said. “Will you step this way?” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to know me by now, sergeant,” said Fred as he walked into +the lift. “I’ve been here pretty regularly the past few years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I wasn’t on duty,” said the commissionaire as the lift slowly +ascended. “There are two of us here, you know. Were you a friend of +Mr. David’s, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +Fred did not chuckle, he did not even smile. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” he said airily, “I don’t know Mr. David.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, very sad, very sad!” said the commissionaire. “He died suddenly +four years ago, you know, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Fred did know, but he did not confess the fact. The death of Mr. David +had robbed him of a possible source of income by right, whereas now he +only had that income by favour, and might at any time lose that and +gain a term of imprisonment if the jovial Dr. Judd grew tired of +paying blackmail. +</p> + +<p> +The lift stopped and he stepped out and followed the commissionaire to +a door, at which the uniformed man knocked. A loud voice bade them +come in, and Flash Fred swaggered into the handsome apartment with a +cool nod to its occupant. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd had risen to meet him. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, sergeant,” he said to the commissionaire, and flicked a +silver coin across the room, which the man caught deftly. +</p> + +<p> +“Get me some cigarettes,” he said. And when the door had closed: “Sit +down, you rascal,” said Dr. Judd good-humouredly. “I suppose you’ve +come to get your pound of flesh.” +</p> + +<p> +He was a tall, stout man, florid of face and heavy of build. His +forehead was bald, his eyes were deep-set and wide apart; he had about +him an air of comfort and boisterous good humour. Fred, in no wise +abashed, sat down on the edge of a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, doctor,” he said, “I’m back.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd shook his head and searched his pockets for a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want—a cigarette?” said Fred, reaching for his case, but +the doctor shook his head and his smile was broad, good-humoured, but +significant. +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you, Mr. Grogan,” he said with a chuckle. “I don’t smoke +cigarettes that are presented to me by gentlemen of your profession.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is my profession?” growled Flash Fred. “You don’t think I was +trying to dope you, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was expecting you,” said the other, without answering the question, +and seated himself. “If I remember rightly, you have a strong +objection to taking cheques.” +</p> + +<p> +Flash Fred grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite right, governor,” he said. “That is still my weakness.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor took a bunch of keys from his pocket, walked to the safe, +snapped back the lock, and then, looking over his shoulder: +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t watch this too closely, my friend; except when I have to +pay blackmailers, I never keep money in this safe.” +</p> + +<p> +Fred made a little grimace. +</p> + +<p> +“Hard words never killed anybody,” he said sententiously. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor took out a packet, slammed the door and turned the key, +came slowly back to the desk and threw down a fat envelope. Then he +consulted a little book which he took from a drawer. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re three days ahead of your time,” he said, and Fred nodded +admiringly. +</p> + +<p> +“What a brain you’ve got for figures, doctor!” he said. “Yes, I’m +three days ahead of my time, but it’s because I’ve got to get out of +England pretty quick to meet a friend of mine in Nice.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor threw the packet across to him, and he caught it clumsily. +</p> + +<p> +“There are twelve hundred pounds in that envelope. You needn’t count +them, because they’re all there,” said Dr. Judd, and leaning back in +his chair, he took out a golden toothpick, eyeing the other straightly +and thoughtfully. “Of course I am the biggest fool in the world,” he +said, “or I would never submit to this iniquitous blackmail. It is +only because I want to keep the memory of my dead brother free from +calumny that I do this.” +</p> + +<p> +“If your brother goes shooting up people in Montpellier and I happen +to be on the spot,” said Flash Fred unctuously, “and help him to +escape—as I did, and I can prove it—I think I’m entitled to a little +compensation.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re an unutterable scoundrel,” said the other in his pleasant way, +and smiled. “And you amuse me. Suppose, instead of being what I am, I +were a bad-minded man. Suppose that I was desperate and couldn’t find +the money? Why, I might—do anything!” +</p> + +<p> +He guffawed at the thought of doing anything very terrible. +</p> + +<p> +“It wouldn’t make any difference to me,” said Fred. “But it wouldn’t +make any difference to you, either. I’ve got all the facts written +down about that shooting—how I helped the man escape and recognized +him in London as Mr. David Judd when I came back—and my mouthpiece +has got it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your lawyer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, my lawyer,” said Fred, nodding. He leaned forward. “You know, I +didn’t believe your brother had died. I thought it was a fake to get +me out of the way, and I shouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen +it in the papers and been to the funeral.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd rose and replaced his toothpick. +</p> + +<p> +“That a man like you could besmirch a name like his!” he said. All the +good humour had gone out of his voice, and he trembled with +indignation and passion. +</p> + +<p> +He had passed to the other side of the table and stood glowering down +at Flash Fred, and Fred, who was used to such scenes—for this was not +his first blackmailing case—merely smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“He was the best man that ever lived, the cleverest, the most +wonderful,” said Dr. Judd, and his face was white. “The greatest man +perhaps that this world has seen.” His voice shook with the intensity +of his emotion. “And for you——” He reached down, and before Fred +knew what had happened the big hand had gripped him by the collar and +jerked him to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, none of that!” cried Fred, and strove to break loose. +</p> + +<p> +“The money I do not mind paying,” Judd went on. “It is not that which +maddens me. It is the knowledge that you have it in your power to +throw mud at a man——” Here his voice broke, and the other hand came +up. +</p> + +<p> +With a cry like a wild beast, Fred flung himself back with all his +might and broke the grip of his adversary. Suddenly, as if by magic, +there appeared in his hand a revolver. +</p> + +<p> +“Put ’em up and keep ’em up, damn you!” +</p> + +<p> +And then a voice, the gentlest voice in the world, asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Can I be of any assistance?” +</p> + +<p> +Fred turned with a start. Larry Holt was standing in the doorway, an +engaging smile upon his face. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch05"> +CHAPTER V.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE WILL</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Flash Fred</span> looked upon the intruder, a picture of comical amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t lose no time, do you?” The protest was forced from him, and +Larry laughed softly. +</p> + +<p> +“For carrying concealed weapons, you’re pinched, Fred.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s no crime in this country,” growled the other, putting up his +gun. +</p> + +<p> +By this time Dr. Judd had recovered himself. +</p> + +<p> +“You know our friend, Mr. Grogan,” he said easily. “He’s a member of +our amateur dramatic society, and we were practising a scene from ‘The +Corsican Brothers.’ I suppose it looked rather alarming.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thought it was ‘Julius Cæsar,’ ” said Larry dryly. “The scene between +Cassius and Brutus, though I don’t remember the gun play.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor looked at Flash Fred and then at Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I don’t know you,” he said. He was still rather white, but +his tone had recovered its good nature. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Inspector Larry Holt from Scotland Yard,” said Larry. “Now +seriously, Dr. Judd, are you charging this man with anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, no,” said Judd with a laugh. “Honestly, we were only doing a +little harmless fooling.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry looked from one to the other. The managing director of an +insurance company, even a small company, does not fool with a known +criminal. +</p> + +<p> +“You know this man, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve met him several times,” said Judd easily. +</p> + +<p> +“You know also that he’s a member of the criminal classes, and that he +is in fact ‘Flash Fred,’ who has served penal servitude in this +country and a term of imprisonment in France?” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor said nothing for a while. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I guessed that, too,” he said in a low voice, “and in +consequence my association with the man must seem rather curious to +you—but I cannot explain.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. The one perturbed person in the room was Flash Fred. He +was in an agony of apprehension lest Dr. Judd tell his secret and the +reason for his visit. But Judd had no such intention. +</p> + +<p> +“You can go now,” he said curtly, and Fred, trying to summon up some +of his old swagger, lit a cigar with a hand that trembled, and Larry +watched the operation. +</p> + +<p> +“You want ‘Nervine for the Nerves,’ Fred,” he said. “I saw a chemist’s +shop open at the corner of the street when I came along.” +</p> + +<p> +Fred walked out with a pitiable attempt at indifference, and Larry +watched him go. Then he turned to the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry I came in at such an inconvenient moment,” he said, “though +I don’t think you were in any danger. Fred gets all his fine dramatic +effects by pulling, not by shooting.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think so either,” said the doctor with a laugh. “Sit down, +Mr. Holt. I certainly didn’t expect to see you. I work rather late +here at nights.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was nobody down below when I came,” said Larry, “and that is my +excuse for coming up unannounced.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I sent the commissionaire out to buy me some cigarettes, and here he +is.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a tap at the door and the commissionaire came in and laid a +packet on the table in confirmation. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what can I do for you?” asked Judd, as he took a cigarette from +the packet and lit it. “I suppose it is the Stuart case? I’ve seen one +of your men to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the Stuart case,” he said. “I wanted a few additional details. +I’ve only just taken charge of the business, and interrupted my +investigation of the—remains, in order to see you before you left the +office.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know very little,” said the doctor, smoking comfortably. “He came +with me to the theatre the night before last. A queer, quiet, reticent +man. I met him quite by accident. As a matter of fact, I was in a car +that collided with his taxicab and I was slightly injured; he called +upon me, and that is how the friendship began—if you can call it a +friendship.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me about the night before last,” asked Larry, and the doctor +looked up at the ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Now let me think. I can give you the exact time almost, for I am a +somewhat methodical person. I met him at the entrance to the theatre +at seven-forty-five, and we both went into Box A. That is the last box +on the left, or O. P. side. The box is on a level with the street, the +stalls and pit being below the level. We sat there through two acts, +and then, just before the curtain came down on the second act, he made +an excuse and went out of the box, and he was never seen again.” +</p> + +<p> +“None of the attendants saw him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the doctor, “but that, I think, is easily explained. It was +a first night, and, as you know, the attendants are very interested in +the action of a play, and fill the doorways and the entrances to +gangways, looking at the stage, when of course they should be +attending to their business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you know he was Stuart, a semi-millionaire?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“I hadn’t the slightest idea,” said the doctor truthfully. “I knew +nothing whatever about his past life except that he had come from +Canada.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry was disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +“I hoped I was going to get a lot of information from you,” he said. +“Nobody seems to have known Stuart, and naturally I thought that you +would have been in his confidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither I nor his bank manager was in his confidence,” said the +doctor. “It was only this morning that I heard from the manager of the +London and Chatham that he was a client of theirs. We knew absolutely +nothing of him except that he had plenty of money.” +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later Larry was walking down Bloomsbury Pavement, and he +was a very thoughtful man. What had Flash Fred been doing in that +office? What was the significance of that flashing of the revolver and +the white face of Dr. Judd? It was another little mystery, into which +he had not time to investigate, and any way it was no concern of his. +Ahead of him, his iron-shod stick tapping the pavement, was a man who +walked slowly and deliberately. Larry passed him, and, waiting for a +cab which he had signalled, saw him again. +</p> + +<p> +“Blind,” he noted casually, not interrupting his thought of Fred and +the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +But he had no time for side trails and side issues, and, entering the +cab, he drove to Westminster. +</p> + +<p> +He was not going back to the Yard immediately. First he had a gruesome +little duty to perform. At the Westminster mortuary, whither the cab +had taken him, he found two Scotland Yard officers awaiting him. +</p> + +<p> +The examination of the body was a brief one. The only mark was an +abrasion of the left ankle, and then Larry began an inspection of the +clothing, which had been placed in an adjoining room. +</p> + +<p> +“There is the shirt, sir,” pointing to a garment which had been +roughly folded. “I can’t understand those blue marks on the breast.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry carried the garment under a light. It was a dress shirt, rough +dried, and the purple specks on the breast were clearly visible. +</p> + +<p> +“Made by an indelible pencil,” said Larry, and in a flash remembered +the missing pencil-case. But what meant those specks, which formed +three rough lines of indecipherable pothooks and hangers? +</p> + +<p> +And then the solution came to Larry, and quickly he turned the dress +front inside out and uttered an exclamation. Written on the inside +were three lines, and it was the indelible pencil markings which had +soaked through that had caused the speckly appearance of the front of +the shirt. +</p> + +<p> +The water had made the purple pencil markings run, but the words were +distinct. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +In the fear of death I, Gordon Stuart, of Merryhill Ranch, Calgary, +leave all my possessions to my daughter, Clarissa, and I pray the +courts to accept this as my last will and testament. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">Gordon Stuart</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Underneath was written: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +It is now clear to me that I have been betrayed by—— +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +There followed a letter which looked like an “O,” but at this point +the writing abruptly terminated. +</p> + +<p> +Larry raised his eyes and met those of his subordinate. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the strangest will that has ever been made,” he said in a +hushed voice. +</p> + +<p> +He put down the shirt and walked back to the mortuary chamber, and +again examined the body. One hand was clenched, and evidently this +fact had been overlooked by the doctors. Using all his strength, he +forced the fingers apart, and something fell with a tinkle to the +stone floor. He stooped and picked it up. It was a broken sleeve-link +of a peculiar pattern. The centre was of black enamel, the rim was of +tiny diamonds. He made a further inspection without discovering +anything new. +</p> + +<p> +Then he looked at his companion, and his forehead was wrinkled. What +did this mean? What association had all these circumstances with each +other? They could be connected, he felt sure of that—the strange +encounter between Flash Fred and Dr. Judd, the will on the shirt, and +now this new clue. An atmosphere of impenetrable mystery enveloped +this case like a fog behind which strange and inhuman shapes were +moving, dimly glimpsed and as dimly suspected. +</p> + +<p> +Murder! +</p> + +<p> +He knew it, he felt it—every shadowy shape he passed on his way to +his office whispered the word “Murder!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch06"> +CHAPTER VI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE WRITING IN BRAILLE</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> girl was making tea on an electric stove when he came in. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo!” he said with a start. “I had forgotten you,” and she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” he asked quickly, “did Stuart have any cuff-links?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded and took a small packet from her table. +</p> + +<p> +“The Commissioner forgot to send these on; they came in just after you +left,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He opened the paper. The links were of plain gold without crest or +monogram. +</p> + +<p> +He took the enamel and diamond half-link from his pocket and inspected +it. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” she asked. “Did you find it in——” She hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I found it in his hand,” he said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then it is murder, you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m certain,” said he. “It will be most difficult to prove, and +unless a miracle happens, the villain who committed this crime will go +free.” +</p> + +<p> +He opened the cupboard and took out the tray, adding to the collection +the two gold links and the half-link he had found in the dead man’s +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing at all,” he said, shaking his head. Then he remembered he had +not examined the little roll of brown paper. “I don’t know what this +is; it was found in his pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +He flattened it out on the table, and the girl came to the opposite +side and bent over, looking at the paper as he smoothed it out. It was +a strip about four inches long and two wide. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing written here,” he said, and turned it over. “Nor here. I’ll +have it photographed to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“One moment,” she said quickly, and took the paper from his hand, +passing the tips of her delicate fingers over its surface. +</p> + +<p> +He saw her face go white. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so,” she whispered. “I was almost sure of that when I saw +the embossing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” he asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“There are some words here written in Braille, the language of the +blind,” she said, and again her fingers went over the surface, pausing +now and again with a puzzled frown on her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Braille?” he repeated in amazement, and she nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I used to read it when I was in the Institute,” she said, “but some +of these words have been damaged, probably by the water. Some are +distinct. Will you write them down as I spell them?” +</p> + +<p> +He snatched up a pen, pulled a piece of paper from the rack, and +waited. Even in that moment he thought how curiously the positions had +been reversed, and how he had become the secretary and she the +detective. +</p> + +<p> +“The first word is ‘murdered,’ ” she said. “And then there is a space, +and then the word ‘dear’; then there’s another gap, and the word ‘sea’ +occurs, and that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +With this weird message between them they stared at one another. What +blind man, amidst those blind shades which had mouthed and gibbered to +him in the fog, had sent this message? +</p> + +<p> +What was there behind the ragged scroll of soaked paper? Whose link +did the dead man hold in his stiffened hand? Why was he murdered? +There had been money in his pocket, his possessions were untouched. It +was not for robbery that he had been struck down. Not for vengeance, +for he was a stranger. +</p> + +<p> +One fact stood out, one tangible point from whence Larry knew his +future movements would radiate. +</p> + +<p> +“Murder!” he said softly, “and I’ll find the man who did it, if he +hides himself in hell!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch07"> +CHAPTER VII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A TELEGRAM FROM CALGARY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Diana Ward</span> was looking at her chief with a new interest in her fine +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Braille,” he said in a low voice. “That is the written language of +the blind, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, there are books and newspapers printed in that type,” she said. +“It is a sort of embossed character made of a number of small dots, +the relation of one with the other producing the letter.” +</p> + +<p> +She took up the paper again. +</p> + +<p> +“When blind people write, they use a small instrument and a guide, but +this has been written in a hurry by somebody who worked without any +guide. I can feel how irregularly it is done, and the illegibility of +the words which I cannot read is due almost as much to bad writing as +to the action of the water.” +</p> + +<p> +He took this curious clue into his hands and examined it. +</p> + +<p> +“Could Stuart have done it with his pencil?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head, and then asked quickly: +</p> + +<p> +“Have you found the pencil?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Larry grimly, “but I’ve found what the pencil was used +for.” +</p> + +<p> +He opened the parcel he had brought in and showed the shirt and its +tragic message written inside the front. +</p> + +<p> +“Why inside?” he said thoughtfully. “It’s written on the left, too.” +</p> + +<p> +Diana understood. +</p> + +<p> +“It would necessarily be written on the left side if he used his right +hand,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“But why on the inside?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. It would have been much simpler to——” +</p> + +<p> +“I have it!” cried Larry triumphantly. “He wrote this will where it +would not be seen by somebody or other. If it had been written +outside, it would have been seen, and probably destroyed.” +</p> + +<p> +She shivered a little. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not quite hardened yet,” she said with a smile. “There is +something terrible about this, isn’t there? I think you are right; and +if we go on that assumption, that he wrote this will in such a manner +in order to keep it from the eyes of a third person, we must suppose +that that third person existed. In other words, there was somebody of +whom he was afraid—or, if you like, at whose hands he feared +death—and the murder was premeditated, for he must have been in the +custody of that somebody for some time before he met his dreadful +end.” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped suddenly, for Larry’s eyes were fixed on her, and she +dropped her own and flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re rather wonderful,” he said softly; “and if I’m not jolly +careful I’m going to lose my job.” +</p> + +<p> +He saw a look of doubt in her eyes and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Miss Ward,” he said banteringly, “we are going to start fair, +and you must acquit me of any professional jealousy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jealousy!” she scoffed. “That would be absurd.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so absurd,” said Larry. “I’ve known men to be jealous of women +for less reason. And now”—he glanced at his watch—“I think you had +better go home. I’ll get a taxi. Have you far to go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only to the Charing Cross Road,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll take you home,” said Larry. “It’s nearly one o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +She had already started putting on her coat and her hat. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, I’ll go alone,” she said. “It isn’t far. Really, Mr. Holt, +I don’t want you to get into the habit of taking me home every time +I’m late. I’m quite used to being out by myself, and I won’t have a +taxi.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll see about that,” said Larry. He was writing rapidly on a cable +form. “If I can get this cable through in time, it ought to reach the +Chief of Police in Calgary by tea-time yesterday!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yesterday?” she said in surprise. “Oh, of course; they are nine hours +late on Greenwich time,” and Larry groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll have to try some new ones on you,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +They walked home together, but as it happened, the girl’s tiny +apartment lay in the direction that he had to take. Larry reached +Regent’s Park, where his own flat was situated, and found the patient +Sunny laying out his pyjamas. +</p> + +<p> +“Sunny,” said Larry, as, clad in these garments and his flowered +dressing-gown, he sipped a cup of chocolate, “somewhere in this city +is a very unpleasant gentleman, name unknown.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect there are many like that, sir,” said Sunny. +</p> + +<p> +“And somewhere in England is a man who is known as the Public +Executioner, and it’s my job in life to bring them together!” +</p> + +<p> +He was at Scotland Yard at half-past eight the following morning, and +to his surprise the girl was before him, and the departmental +memoranda and the various documents which come to every head of +Scotland Yard were neatly arranged on his blotting pad. +</p> + +<p> +“A cablegram has just come in,” said the girl. “I didn’t open it. You +must tell me what you want done about cables and telegrams.” +</p> + +<p> +“Open ’em all,” said Larry. “I have no private business—and the only +scented notes which come to me can be read without bringing a blush to +the youngest cheek.” +</p> + +<p> +She came across the room with the cablegram in her hand, and he took +it. +</p> + +<p> +“Calgary,” he said, looking at the address. “That’s pretty quick +work.” And then his mouth opened in amazement, for the telegram read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Stuart had no child. He was not married. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +He looked at the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Check Number One,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She took the telegram from him and examined the hour at which it was +dispatched. +</p> + +<p> +“This is a common-knowledge telegram,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by common knowledge?” asked Larry good-humouredly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it must have been answered just as soon as it arrived, and the +man who sent this wrote from what is common knowledge. In other words, +he didn’t attempt to make any investigations, but took the fact for +granted; probably he asked somebody in the office, ‘Is Stuart married +or a bachelor?’ and when they said he was a bachelor, he dispatched +the reply.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry folded the wire and put it away in his desk. +</p> + +<p> +“If it is common knowledge that Stuart was not married, it merely +complicates a situation which is not exactly clear. Here is a man who +dies and is obviously murdered, and in a few moments preceding his +death writes his will secretly on the inside of his shirt. It is +possible, by the way, that he may have done this in the presence of +his murderers without their being aware of the fact, and I should +think that is most likely.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that,” she agreed. +</p> + +<p> +“He was murdered, and writes his will on the stiff breast of his +shirt, leaving the whole of his property to his daughter. Now, a sane +man—and there is no reason to suppose that he was anything but +sane—does not invent a daughter on the spur of the moment; so it is +obvious that the Chief of the Calgary Police is wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is equally certain that if he was married it was not in Calgary or +even in Canada, where the fact would be known,” said the girl. “Secret +marriages are possible in a great city, but in small places, amongst +very prominent people—and apparently he lived not in a town but on a +ranch—the fact that he was married could not escape knowledge.” +</p> + +<p> +On the way home the previous evening Larry had told the girl almost +all that the Commissioner had told him. It was not usual for him to +make confidantes so quickly, but there was something very appealing +about Diana Ward, and his confidence, usually a matter of slow growth, +had come to maturity in a flash. +</p> + +<p> +The girl was looking thoughtfully down at her desk. +</p> + +<p> +“If he was married secretly,” she said slowly, “would it not +be—in——” +</p> + +<p> +“In London, of course,” said Larry, nodding. “Send a cable to the +Chief of the Calgary Police, asking him particulars about Stuart’s +known movements, when he was in London last before his present visit.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch08"> +CHAPTER VIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE MEMORIAL STONE</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">She</span> nodded, took out a telegram form from her rack, and began +writing. Larry glanced through the reports mechanically, initialled +one, and put the others aside. Then he opened the cupboard and, taking +out the tray, carried it to the table. He examined the watch again in +the light of day, the swivel ring, the cigar-case, and lastly the roll +of paper. By daylight the embossed characters were visible, and he put +his finger-tips over them very gingerly. He was not, however, +accustomed to reading Braille, and he realized that his hand was a +heavy one compared with the delicate touch of his secretary. She had +finished her writing, had rung a bell and handed the telegram to him +to read. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all right,” said Larry, and, when the uniformed messenger had +come and taken the telegram away: “Do you notice anything peculiar +about this piece of paper?” he asked, pointing to the Braille message. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said. “I was looking at it before you came. You don’t +mind?” she asked quickly, and Larry laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You can examine anything except my conscience,” he said. “Did you +notice”—he turned his attention to the paper again—“that one end of +this paper is less discoloured than the other?” +</p> + +<p> +“I noticed that one end was drier than the other last night,” she +said, “and that of course is the reason. It was on the dry end that we +got our best results. For instance, the word ‘murderer’ was almost +untouched by the water; it was damp but not moist.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded, and she opened a drawer of her desk and took out a sheet of +brown paper. +</p> + +<p> +“I brought this with me,” she said. “It is a sheet from a Braille +book, and I was trying experiments with strips I had torn from the +book, soaking them in my wash-basin. Here is the result.” She took out +a little roll of shapeless pulp, which skinned when she attempted to +unwind it. +</p> + +<p> +“Humph!” said Larry. They had both reached the same conclusion, but by +different processes—she by actual experiment, he by deduction; and +the conclusion they had come to was that the roll of paper had been +placed in Gordon Stuart’s pocket after the body had left the water. +</p> + +<p> +“There would be enough moisture in the cloth to saturate it through,” +said Larry. “This paper is very absorbent, almost as much so as +blotting paper. So we have come to this—that Gordon Stuart was +drowned, and after he was drowned his body was handled by some person +or persons, one of whom slipped this message into his pocket, and that +person was either a blind man or one who believed——” He stared at +her. “By Jove!” he said, as a thought struck him. +</p> + +<p> +“What were you going to say?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it possible——” He frowned. It was an absurd idea. The man or +woman who left this message on the body expected that Diana Ward would +read it. +</p> + +<p> +She held no official position, and the fact that she was Larry Holt’s +secretary was a purely fortuitous circumstance, which could not have +been anticipated by any outside person. Yet a hasty telephone call to +the Chief of Internal Intelligence revealed the fact that there was no +Braille expert at Scotland Yard, the only man who knew the system +being at that time on sick leave for six months. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you can dismiss the idea that the message was intended for +me,” said the girl with a smile. “No, it was written by a blind man, +or it would have been written better. A person with the use of his +eyes, or——” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose he were writing in the dark?” asked Larry. He put the tray +away and locked the cupboard. +</p> + +<p> +The girl shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“If he were not blind, he would not be in possession of the instrument +to make these markings,” she said, and Larry felt that was true. +</p> + +<p> +He spent two hours dictating letters to various authorities, and at +eleven o’clock he rose and put on his coat and hat. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re going for a joy ride,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“We?” she repeated in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to come along,” said Larry, and this time his tone was +authoritative, and the girl meekly obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +There was a car waiting for them at the entrance to the Yard, and the +driver evidently had already received his instructions. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re going to Beverley Manor, the village which Stuart was so fond +of visiting,” he said. “I particularly want to discover what +attractions the old Saxon church had for this unhappy man. He doesn’t +seem to have been an archæologist, so the fact that the foundations +were a thousand years old would not interest him.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a glorious spring day, with just a sufficient nip in the air to +bring the colour to young and healthy cheeks. The hedgerows were +bursting into vivid green, and the grassy banks were yellow with +primroses. They sat silent, this man and woman whom fate had thrown +together in such strange circumstances, enjoying the golden day and +thankful of heart to be alive in that season of renewal. All the world +was living. The air was lively with hurrying birds going about their +business of nest-making. They saw strange, furtive shapes creeping +across the road from burrow to burrow; and in one sheltered old-world +garden which they passed white lilacs were blooming. +</p> + +<p> +Beverley Manor was a straggling village at the foot of the Kentish +Rag. Beyond its church it had few attractions for visitors, for it lay +off the main Kentish road, a tiny backwater of rural England, where +life ran a smooth, unruffled course. +</p> + +<p> +They pulled up at the inn, where Larry ordered lunch, and then they +set forth on foot to the church, which lay a quarter of a mile away +along a white and pleasant road. It was not a pretty church; its +square tower was squat and unlovely, and successive generations, +endeavouring to improve its once simple lines, had produced a medley +of architecture in which Romanesque, Gothic, and Norman struggled for +recognition. +</p> + +<p> +“It rather swears, doesn’t it?” said Larry irreverently as they passed +through the old lych-gate into the churchyard. +</p> + +<p> +The door of the church was open, and the edifice was empty. However +disturbing its outside might be, there were serenity and peace and +simplicity in the calm interior. +</p> + +<p> +Larry had hoped to find memorial tablets placed in the wall of the +church which would give him some clue to Stuart’s movements. But +beyond a brass testifying to the virtues of a former vicar, and the +tomb of an ancient Bishop of Rochester, the church was innocent of +memorials. Larry then began a systematic inspection of the graves. +Most of them were very old, and their inscriptions indecipherable. He +came at last to the far end of the cemetery, where half a dozen +workmen were carrying a new stone wrapped in canvas, and he and the +girl stood side by side watching them in silence as they deposited +their load by a well-kept grave. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid we’ve had our journey for nothing,” said Larry. “We’ll +make a few inquiries in the village, and then we’ll go back to +London.” +</p> + +<p> +He was turning to go, when one of the men stripped the canvas covering +from the headstone. +</p> + +<p> +“We might as well know who this is,” said Larry, and stepped forward +to look. +</p> + +<p> +The men stood on one side to give him a better view, and he read; and, +reading, gasped. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="center mt1"> +✝<br> +TO THE MEMORY OF<br> +MARGARET STUART,<br> +WIFE OF<br> +GORDON STUART<br> +(OF CALGARY, CAN.).<br> +DIED MAY 4TH, 1909<br> +ALSO HIS ONLY DAUGHTER<br> +JEANE,<br> +BORN 10TH JUNE, 1908.<br> +DIED 1ST MAY, 1909. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The girl had joined him now, and together they stood staring down at +the headstone. +</p> + +<p> +“His only daughter!” said Larry in a tone of bewilderment. “His only +daughter! Then who is Clarissa?” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch09"> +CHAPTER IX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE MAN WHO LOST A FINGER</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">An examination</span> of local records produced no satisfactory result. +Margaret Stuart had died at a farm three miles out of Beverley Manor, +and the farm had changed hands twice since the date of her death. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty years ago?” said the farmer whom Larry interviewed. “Why, +twenty years ago this place was a sort of nursing home. It was run by +a woman who took in invalids.” +</p> + +<p> +Where the woman is, he could not say. She was not a local woman. He +thought he had heard she was dead. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been racking my brains to recall her name,” said the farmer. “I +told the gentleman yesterday that he’d best go to Somerset House——” +</p> + +<p> +“A gentleman here yesterday?” said Larry quickly. “Was there somebody +inquiring yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, a man from London,” said the farmer. “He came down in a car +and offered me fifty pounds if I could tell him the name of the woman +who kept this place as a home, and a hundred pounds if I could give +him any information about a lady that died here twenty-two years ago. +A lady named Stuart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, indeed?” said Larry, alert now. Nobody from Scotland Yard had +made the inquiries, he was well aware. “What was this gentleman like +who called yesterday?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather a tall man,” said the farmer. “I didn’t see his face properly +because he had his overcoat buttoned up to his chin. But I did notice +that he’d lost the little finger on his left hand.” +</p> + +<p> +On their way back to London both Larry and Diana Ward were absorbed in +their own thoughts. The car was threading through the traffic of +Westminster Bridge Road before Larry made any reference to their +visit. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is in such a frantic hurry to discover all about the Stuarts,” he +asked, “and will give fifty pounds for information? And who is his +daughter Clarissa, and how can he have a daughter Clarissa, when his +only daughter lies at Beverley Manor?” +</p> + +<p> +“You inquired at the stonemason’s when we came through Beverley. +Didn’t they tell you anything?” asked the girl. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“The stone was put up by order of Mr. Stuart, who was in the habit of +coming to the churchyard every day to sit beside the grave. The +memorial was ordered two months ago, and the stone was seen and +approved by Gordon Stuart only last week.” +</p> + +<p> +He bit his lip thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Between last week and the night of his murder Stuart must have +discovered that he had another child.” He shook his head. “That sort +of thing doesn’t happen,” he said decisively, “not in real life, +anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +He spent ten minutes with the Commissioner, and afterwards went into +the City, and the girl did not see him till seven o’clock that night. +She had had instructions from him that she was not to wait, as it was +a Saturday and her office hours ended at one. But she was sitting at +her desk, reading, when he came in, and he was so elated that he did +not reprove her. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got it!” he said exultantly. +</p> + +<p> +“The murderer?” she asked with a start. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, the story of Stuart. Has there been any reply to my +cablegram?” +</p> + +<p> +Diana shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t matter very much,” he said briskly as he paced the office. +“I’ve secured the registration of the marriage. It occurred in August, +1907, and was celebrated at a church in Highgate. Don’t you see what +happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite see,” she said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll tell you. Gordon Stuart, a young man at the time, was on a +visit to this country. I have found that he stayed at the Cecil Hotel +from June to August, 1907. He married the girl, whose name was +Margaret Wilson, and returned to the Cecil Hotel alone in March, ’08. +There is a record there that he left for Canada two days after he came +back to the hotel. They keep a book in which they write down the +addresses to which letters should be forwarded, and there was no +difficulty whatever in tracing his movements so far. Then I went to +see the vicar of the church where he was married; and here I had a +great find.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, rumpled his hair, and frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“I really should like to know who is that tall man who has lost the +little finger of his left hand,” he said irritably. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” she asked in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“He had been there a day before me,” said Larry, and then, shaking off +his annoyance: “Here is the story—the story told by Stuart to the +vicar, whom he met in the Strand on the day before he sailed for +Canada, never to return until he came back eight or nine months ago. +</p> + +<p> +“The vicar married him, and remembered the circumstances very well. He +said Stuart was a very nervous and somewhat conceited man, who lived +in terror of his father, a rich landowner in Canada. Stuart confessed +to him, over a cup of tea which they had together at the Cecil, that +he was leaving his wife and going back to Canada to break the news of +his marriage to his father. He was in considerable doubt as to what +his father would say, or, to be more exact, he had no doubt whatever +that the old man would kick up a shine. The impression left on the +vicar’s mind was that the old man would disinherit him. To cut a long +story short, he said he was leaving London the next day, and at the +first opportunity he should tell his father, and then he would return +for his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no doubt in my mind,” Larry went on, “that Stuart did not +tell his father, that he kept the secret of his marriage carefully +hidden, and in a panic at being found out, he broke off all +communication with his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“One doesn’t want to judge the dead too harshly,” she said, “but it +was not a manly thing to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree,” said Larry. “It wasn’t sporting. He must have left his wife +a considerable sum of money. At any rate, when the vicar saw her she +was in comfortable circumstances and gave him that impression. Stuart +left in March. In June, 1908, three months later, his child was +born—the child he never saw, and about whom in all probability he +never heard until years of remorse worked upon him and he came back to +England to find his wife and establish her in the position to which +she was entitled. +</p> + +<p> +“He must have employed an inquiry agent. And the end of his quest was +a discovery in the churchyard of Beverley Manor—the grave of his wife +and his only child.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about Clarissa?” asked the girl, and Larry shrugged. +</p> + +<p> +“That is Mystery No. 2 which has got to be cleared up.” +</p> + +<p> +She was silent, this thoughtful girl, and her pretty brows were +wrinkled in perplexity. Presently she put down the pen she had been so +assiduously biting, and looked across at him with a slow, triumphant +smile, a smile which found a ready response in his face. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve solved it?” he asked eagerly, and she nodded. “You’ve solved +the mystery of Clarissa?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it’s one of the easiest of the problems to solve,” she said +calmly, “and I must have been silly not to have thought of it before. +Have you the registration of birth?” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got that; we’re making a search for it to-morrow,” said +Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“I can save you the trouble,” replied Diana Ward. “Clarissa is the +other twin daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Twins!” gasped Larry, and the girl nodded, her eyes dancing with +merriment at his surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Obviously,” she said. “Poor Mrs. Stuart had twin daughters. One of +them died; the other is Clarissa, of whom Stuart learnt, perhaps, in +the last few hours of his life.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry looked at her in awe. +</p> + +<p> +“When you are Chief Commissioneress of the Metropolitan Police,” he +said, “I shall be very obliged to you if you make me your secretary. I +feel I have a lot to learn.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch10"> +CHAPTER X.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">MR. STRAUSS “DROPS”</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Flash Fred</span> had not left London: he had no intention of leaving +London, if the truth be told. He had certain doubts in his mind which +he had determined to set at rest, certain obscurities on his horizon +which he desired should be dispersed. Flash Fred was a clever man. If +he had not been clever, he would not have lived in the excellent style +he adopted, nor possessed chambers in Jermyn Street and a +motor-brougham to take him to the theatre at night. His working +expenses were heavy, but his profits were vast. He had many irons in +the fire and burnt himself with none of them—which is the art of +success in all walks of life. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of the day that Larry had made his discovery Flash +Fred, in the seclusion and solitude of his ornate sitting room, had +elaborated a theory which had followed very close upon a discovery he +had made that morning. Men of his temperament and uncertain prospects +suffer from a chronic dissatisfaction. This dissatisfaction is half +the cause of their departure from the straight and narrow path, and is +wholly responsible for their undoing. A hundred pounds a month, +payable yearly, is a handsome income; but the underworld abhor +anything that savours of steadiness, regularity, and system—three +qualities which are so associated with prison life that they carry +with them a kind of taint particularly distressing to the lag-who-was. +</p> + +<p> +Twelve hundred pounds a year for five years is six thousand pounds, or +twenty-four thousand dollars at the present rate of exchange—a +respectable sum; but five years represents a big slice taken out of +the hectic life of men like Flash Fred. Twelve hundred pounds at best +represents only two coups at <i>trente et quarante</i>, and can be lost in +three minutes. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd was a collector. It had been reported to Fred that Dr. Judd’s +residence at Chelsea was a veritable treasure-house of paintings and +antique jewellery. Fred had read a newspaper paragraph that Dr. Judd +was the possessor of historical gems worth fifty thousand pounds. +Though Fred had no passion for history, he had an eye to the value of +precious stones. And the theory he had evolved was in the main +arithmetical. If he could get away with ten thousand pounds’ worth of +property in twenty-four hours, he would not only have anticipated his +income for eight or nine years, but he would be saved the fag of +coming to London every twelve months to collect it. Much might happen +in twelve months. It might not always be possible for him to make the +journey, since prison authorities are notoriously difficult to +persuade. Or he might be dead. +</p> + +<p> +To get that movable property would be difficult, because the doctor +was hardly the kind of man to leave his property unguarded. Indeed, +the ordinary methods of effecting an entrance were repugnant to Fred’s +professional feelings. For he gained his livelihood by the cleverness +of his tongue and the lightning adjustment of certain brain cells to +meet emergencies, and to him a jemmy was an instrument of terror, +since it implied work. But there was another method—and once he had +made his get-away, would the doctor dare prosecute? +</p> + +<p> +That afternoon, sauntering aimlessly through Piccadilly Circus at the +midday hour, he had come face to face with a tall, stoutish man, who, +after one glance at him, had attempted to avoid a meeting; but Fred +had caught him by the arm and swung him round. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” he said, “if it isn’t old No. 278! How are you, Strauss?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Strauss’s face twitched nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’ve made a mistake, sir,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Come off it,” demanded Fred vulgarly, and, taking him by the arm, led +him down Lower Regent Street. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse my not recognizing you,” said Mr. Strauss nervously, “but I +thought at first you were a bull—‘split’ we call them in this +country.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m not,” said Flash Fred. “And how has the old world been +treating you, hey? Do you remember G Gallery at Portland, in B Block?” +</p> + +<p> +The face of the stout man twitched again. He did not like being +reminded of his prison experience, though in truth he had little +against the prisoner who had occupied the adjoining cell. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you getting on?” he asked. And it happened that that morning +Flash Fred had gone out without any visible diamonds—he carried them +in his hip pocket, for he trusted nobody. +</p> + +<p> +“Bad,” said Fred, which was a lie, but no good crook admits that he is +prosperous. Then suddenly: “Why did you think I was a split, Strauss?” +</p> + +<p> +Strauss looked uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I just thought so,” he said awkwardly. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you at the old game?” +</p> + +<p> +Fred looked at the other steadily and saw his eyes shift. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m going straight now,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“A liar you are, and a liar you will always be,” said Fred, quoting +Larry Holt. “I’ll bet you’re on the way to ‘fence’ something.” +</p> + +<p> +Again the man looked round as though seeking a way of escape; and +Fred, who never despised an opportunity, however small, held out a +suggestive palm and said laconically, “Drop!” +</p> + +<p> +“Only a few things,” said Mr. Strauss hurriedly. “Things that were +given to me or wouldn’t be missed—just odds and ends like. A couple +of salt-spoons…” He enumerated his loot. +</p> + +<p> +“Drop!” said Fred again. “I’m hard up and want the money. I’ll take a +share and you shall have the money back—one of these days.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Strauss dropped, with a curse. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and have a drink,” said Fred briskly, when the transaction had +been completed to his satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve left me with about three pounds’ worth,” grumbled the man. +“Really, Mr. Grogan, I don’t think you’re fair,” and he looked at the +other suspiciously. “And you don’t look as if you’re hard up either.” +</p> + +<p> +“Appearances are deceptive,” said the cheerful Fred, and led the way +into a private bar. “What are you now—valet or butler?” +</p> + +<p> +“Butler,” replied Strauss, tossing down a dram. “It’s not a bad place, +Mr. Grogan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Call me Fred,” begged Flash Fred. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems a liberty,” said Strauss, and meant it. “I’ve got a butler’s +job with a very nice gentleman,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Rich?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Strauss nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yards of it,” he said briefly. “But what’s the good? He knows I’m a +lag, and he’s very decent to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Fred was eyeing him narrowly. +</p> + +<p> +“You still dope, I see?” he said, and the man flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said gruffly, “I take a little stimulant now and again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Fred, “who is your boss?” +</p> + +<p> +“You wouldn’t know him.” Mr. Strauss shook his head. “He’s a City +gentleman, head of an insurance office.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dr.—Judd?” asked Flash Fred quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes,” said the other in surprise. “How did you know?” +</p> + +<p> +They parted soon after, and Flash Fred was a thoughtful man for the +rest of the day, and his plans began to take shape toward the evening. +</p> + +<p> +He dressed himself with care after dark, and strolled Strandwards, for +he numbered amongst his other accomplishments that of an experienced +squire of dames. He had a ready smile for the solitary girl hurrying +homewards, and though the rebuffs were many, such conquests as he had +to his credit added to the pleasures of memory. Between St. Martin’s +Church and the corner of the Strand he drew blank, for such girls as +he saw were unattractive or were escorted. Opposite Morley’s Hotel he +saw a peach. +</p> + +<p> +He caught one glimpse of her under a light-standard and was transfixed +by the rare beauty of her face. She was alone, and Fred swung round +and in two strides had overtaken her. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t we met before?” he asked, raising his hat, but asked no more. +Somebody caught him by the collar and jerked him back. +</p> + +<p> +“Fred, I shall really have to be severe with you,” said the hated +voice of Larry Holt, and Fred developed an instant grievance. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you got a home to go to?” he wailed, and continued his +journey to the Strand in a bitter mood, for the romance had been +shaken out of him, and he could still feel the knuckles of the shaker +at the back of his neck. +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +The girl passed on, unconscious of the fact that Larry Holt had been +behind her. It was not an unusual experience to be spoken to in the +street, and she had grown hardened to that also. +</p> + +<p> +She lived above a tobacconist’s shop in the Charing Cross Road, and +Larry saw her open the side door and go into the dark passage; he +waited for a few minutes, then continued his walk. +</p> + +<p> +This girl had made an extraordinary impression upon him. He told +himself that it was not her delicate beauty, or anything about her +that was feminine, but that it was her genius, her extraordinary +reasoning faculties which attracted him; and, to do him justice, he +believed this. He was not a susceptible man. Beautiful women he had +known, on both sides of the border line which separates the good from +the bad, the honest from the criminal. He had had minor affairs in his +youth, but had come through those fiery dreams unscorched and unmarked +by his experiences. +</p> + +<p> +So he told himself. It was extraordinary that it was necessary to tell +himself anything; but there was the indisputable fact that he spent a +great deal of his spare time in arguing out his attitude of mind +toward Diana Ward. And he had known her something over twenty-four +hours! +</p> + +<p> +Diana Ward was not thinking of Larry as she went into her flat. Her +mind was wholly occupied by the problems which the Stuart case +presented. She felt that, if the missing Clarissa were found, they +would be on the high road to discovering the cause of Stuart’s death +and the reason for this hideous crime. +</p> + +<p> +She slammed the door and went up the dark and narrow stairs slowly. +The upper part of the tobacconist’s was let off in three flats, and +she occupied the highest and the cheapest. The tenants of the other +two were, she knew, spending the week-end in the country. The first +floor was occupied by a bachelor Civil servant, a hearty man whose +parties occasionally kept her awake at night; the second floor by a +newspaper artist and his wife; and she had no reason to complain of +her neighbours. +</p> + +<p> +She had reached the second landing, her foot was on the stairs of the +final two flights, when she stopped. She thought she had heard a +noise, the faint creak of a sound which she had felt rather than +heard. She waited a second, and then smiled at her nervousness. She +had heard these creaks and whispers before on the dark stairs, but had +overcome her timidity to discover that they were purely imaginary. +Nevertheless, she walked up a little more slowly and reached the +landing from whence rose a short flight of stairs to her own +apartments. The landing was a broad one, and as she turned, with one +hand on the banisters, she put out the other in a spirit of bravado as +though she groped for some hidden intruder. +</p> + +<p> +And then her blood turned to water, for her hand had touched the coat +of a man! She screamed, but instantly a hand, a big unwholesome hand, +covered her face, and she was drawn slowly backward. She fought and +struggled with all her might, but the man who held her had almost +superhuman strength, and the arm about her was like a vise. Then, +suddenly, she went limp, and momentarily the arm that held her +relaxed. +</p> + +<p> +“Fainted, have ye?” said a harsh voice, and as a hand came feeling +down for her face, the other arm relaxed a little more. +</p> + +<p> +With a sudden dart the girl broke free, ran up the remaining stairs +and opened and slammed the door. There was a key on the inside and +this she turned with a heart full of gratitude that she had never +locked her bedroom door from the outside. She flew across the room, +stopping only to switch on the lights, pulled out a drawer and took +from its depths a small revolver. Diana Ward came from a stock which +was not easily scared, and, though her heart was pounding painfully, +she ran back at the door and flung it open. +</p> + +<p> +She stood for the space of a few seconds. She heard a stealthy +footstep on the stairs and fired. There was a roar of fear and a +blunder of feet down the stairs. Only for a moment did she hesitate, +and then raced down the stairway in pursuit. She heard the thump of +feet on the landing lower down, heard the rattle of the door, and came +down the last flight to find it open and nobody in sight. +</p> + +<p> +Concealing the revolver in a fold of her dress, she stepped out into +the Charing Cross Road. At this hour there were few pedestrians, and +she looked round for some sign of her assailant. A light motor-van was +driving away, and the only person she saw near at hand was an old +blind man. The iron ferrule of his stick came “tap-tap-tap,” as he +stumbled painfully along. +</p> + +<p> +“Pity the blind,” he wailed; “pity the poor blind!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch11"> +CHAPTER XI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">BURGLARS AT THE YARD</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Sunny</span>,” said Larry to his servitor, “London is a terrible city.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed it is, sir,” said Mr. Patrick Sunny. +</p> + +<p> +“But it has one bright, radiant feature which redeems it from utter +desolation and abomination.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’re right, sir,” said Sunny. “I’ve often noticed that +myself, sir. I’m very fond of the picture houses myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not talking about the picture houses,” snapped Larry. “Nothing is +further from my thoughts than the cinema houses. I am talking of +something different, something spiritual.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like a whisky and soda, sir?” asked Sunny, at last securing +a tangible line. +</p> + +<p> +“Get out!” roared Larry, bubbling with laughter. “Get out, you +horrible materialist! Go to the pictures.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Sunny, “but it’s rather late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then go to bed,” said Larry. “Stop a bit. Bring me my writing-case.” +</p> + +<p> +He was wearing his favourite indoor kit, a dressing-gown, a pair of +old cricketing trousers, and a soft shirt, and now he filled his +polished brier with a sense of physical well-being. +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me, Sunny,” said Larry Holt impressively, “there are many +worse places than London on a bright spring day, when your heart——” +</p> + +<p> +There was a faint rat-tat-tat on the outer door. “A visitor at this +time of night!” said Larry in surprise. It could not be from Scotland +Yard, because Scotland Yard use the telephone freely, a little too +freely sometimes. +</p> + +<p> +“I think there’s somebody at the door, sir,” said Sunny. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a fine bit of reasoning on your part,” said Larry. “Open it.” +</p> + +<p> +He waited and heard a brief exchange of questions. The visitor was a +woman; and before he could guess who it was, the door opened and Diana +Ward came in. He saw by her face that something had happened, and went +to meet her. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” he asked quickly. “That man didn’t follow you?” +</p> + +<p> +“What man?” she demanded in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Flash Fred.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know whether it was Flash Fred,” she said grimly, “but if he +is somebody particularly unpleasant, it was probably he.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down. Would you like some coffee? I’m just going to have a cup. +Sunny, get two coffees.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Sunny, and then, significantly, “Do you want me to go +out to the pictures, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry blushed angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Get some coffee, you—you—you——” he spluttered. “Now, what is it?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl told the story of her adventure without preliminary. Larry +listened with a serious face. +</p> + +<p> +“You say he was big? That rules out Flash Fred,” he said. “Do you +think it was a burglar—somebody who had broken in and whom your +arrival interrupted?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think so,” she shook her head. “In fact, I know that it was a +much more serious attack. When I got back to my flat, I went through +all the rooms. In the dining room, the room to which I would have gone +first in ordinary circumstances, I found a long laundry basket.” +</p> + +<p> +“A laundry basket?” he repeated in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“It was lined with a sort of quilting, very thick, and the lid was +padded in the same way. Inside of it was this.” +</p> + +<p> +She laid down the object she had been carrying. It looked like an +airman’s cap, except that there was no opening for the mouth. +</p> + +<p> +He took it up and sniffed, though there was no need for this, for he +had noticed the sweet scent when she had come into the room. +</p> + +<p> +“It is saturated in chloroform,” he said. “Of course, this would not +make you entirely insensible, but it would have quieted you.” +</p> + +<p> +He paced the room, his hands in his pockets, his chin on his chest. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you find anything else?” +</p> + +<p> +“When I got out into the street,” she said, “a laundry van was just +moving off. I noticed it particularly, because I thought all the time +that the word ‘laundry’—and that was all the inscription the van +bore—had been written by an amateur, and very badly done.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t understand it,” said Larry, bewildered. “The brute couldn’t +have got you away. He must have had some assistants in the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t agree with you,” she said quietly. “This man was terribly +strong. I felt like an infant in his arms, and it would have been a +very simple matter for him to slide the basket down the stairs and +carry it out across the pavement with the help of the man who was +driving the van.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why you?” he asked, bewildered. “Why should they bother about +you?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not reply immediately. +</p> + +<p> +“I am wondering,” she said at last, “whether I have by accident +stumbled upon some clue which incriminates the Stuart murderers. +Perhaps, without knowing that I have such a clue, I am in possession +of information which they wish to suppress.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry was very thoughtful. +</p> + +<p> +“Just wait here a little while and I’ll change,” he said, and +disappeared from the room. +</p> + +<p> +The girl looked round the cosy flat appreciatively and Sunny came in, +bearing a tray, first stopping outside the door to cough loudly, to +the intense annoyance of Larry, who heard him from the other room. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you have sugar, miss?” asked Sunny solemnly, and when she +nodded: “Some ladies don’t like sugar. It makes them fat.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not very much afraid of getting fat,” she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“No, ma’am, you wouldn’t be,” said Sunny agreeably. +</p> + +<p> +On the way to the flat she asked Larry laughingly if Sunny agreed with +everything he said. +</p> + +<p> +“With everything I’ve ever said,” said Larry. “He drives me to despair +sometimes. I have yet to find the subject upon which Sunny has an +independent, definite opinion.” +</p> + +<p> +Later he was to discover there was at least one matter in which Sunny +had a mind of his own, but that time was distant. +</p> + +<p> +They came to the apartment in Charing Cross Road, and Larry began his +search. He had brought a flash lamp with him, and inspected every +stair, without, however, coming upon a single clue that would identify +the mysterious assailant. +</p> + +<p> +“Now we’ll have a look at your room.” +</p> + +<p> +He examined the laundry basket, which the girl had exactly described. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing new here,” he said. “See if anything is missing.” +</p> + +<p> +She made an independent search and came back to him in the sitting +room with a puzzled face. +</p> + +<p> +“My green coat, an overcoat I wear, and a hat have disappeared.” +</p> + +<p> +“A distinctive hat?” he asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by a distinctive hat?” she asked in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it rather striking?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is rather,” she smiled. “It is a golden-yellow hat which I wear +with my green coat.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you worn it to the Yard?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Often,” she replied in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Then that’s it,” said he. “Come down with me. I don’t want to leave +you alone.” +</p> + +<p> +She followed him into the street, and he went into the nearest +telephone booth and rang up Scotland Yard and got the officer on duty +at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Has Miss Ward been in to-night? It is Inspector Holt speaking,” he +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” was the reply. “She’s just gone out.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“But I haven’t been to Scotland Yard,” she said in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody has impersonated you!” he said shortly. +</p> + +<p> +They were in the grim building on the Thames Embankment within a few +minutes, and the door of 47 was apparently untampered with. He opened +the door and switched on the lights. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” he said softly, for the doors of the cupboard wherein he +had kept the clues concerning the death of Stuart hung broken upon +their hinges. +</p> + +<p> +He pulled out the tray and gave a rapid glance at its contents. +</p> + +<p> +The Braille writing had disappeared! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch12"> +CHAPTER XII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">FANNY WELDON TELLS THE TRUTH</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">He lifted</span> the telephone, and presently: +</p> + +<p> +“Send the first two officers in the building,” he said, “and a +messenger, quick!” +</p> + +<p> +The girl was watching interestedly. Now she saw the real Larry Holt, +the man of whom it is said by the Commissioner that “he slept +trailing.” At his request, she stood outside the open door whilst he +conducted an investigation. The light jemmy which the intruder had +used he had not troubled to take away. It lay on the floor, and he +picked it up with a piece of paper and carried it to the light. +</p> + +<p> +A short thread of cotton adhered to its rough end which meant that its +user had worn cotton gloves to avoid finger prints. His only hope was +the tray. It was a flat glass tray with wicker sides and handles, and +he knew that if the gloves came off anywhere it would be here; for a +person unaccustomed to working in gloves would remove them to examine +the smaller objects. And his surmise was right. When he breathed on +the polished back of the gold watch, a distinct thumb print was +visible. +</p> + +<p> +By this time two officers had arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there a man on duty in the print department?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” replied the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Take this watch down. Hold it by the stem. If he cannot bring up the +print by powder I want it photographed and verified within the next +hour.” +</p> + +<p> +The burglar had made another <i>faux pas</i>. Larry had pulled out the +waste-paper basket without disturbing its contents and had taken out +three screwed-up pieces of paper, two of which proved to be nothing +more important than memoranda in Diana’s writing. The third, however, +was a plan of the room, drawn in ink by a skilful hand, the cupboard +being marked and the positions of the desks shown. +</p> + +<p> +“They thought there were three cupboards here,” said Larry, pointing. +“There is one supposed to be on the left of the fireplace,” he looked +up and raised his eyebrows. “By Jingo, they’re right!” he said. “And +another behind the door.” He looked and nodded. “They know this room +much better than I do, Miss Ward,” he said, and looked at the paper +again. “The man who drew this has a knowledge of architectural +drawing,” said he. “I think we’d better have a safe and a bodyguard,” +he added bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +Somebody appeared in the doorway. It was Sir John Hason, who sometimes +returned to his office at night to take advantage of the quiet and +freedom from interruption which the evening hours afforded. +</p> + +<p> +“What has happened, Larry?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing,” said Larry airily, “only a burglar has broken into +Scotland Yard! Don’t you think we ought to send for the police?” he +asked sardonically, and Sir John grinned. But the smile came off his +face instantly. +</p> + +<p> +“They haven’t taken the Stuart clues, have they?” +</p> + +<p> +“The only clue that matters,” replied Larry. “It would be a good idea +if we brought some Boy Scouts into this building to look after our +movable property!” +</p> + +<p> +“I like you when you’re funny,” said the Commissioner, but he was +serious. “We’ll have the doorkeeper up.” +</p> + +<p> +The doorkeeper, when he came, could give no satisfactory explanation, +except that he had thought it was Miss Ward who had passed. It was the +practice to call the number of the room when its occupants came in for +duty, and this was also the custom after office hours. The visitor had +said “47,” and had been allowed to pass unchallenged. +</p> + +<p> +“There have been no strangers here, have there?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the girl, and then: “There was a blind man here this +afternoon: you remember, you wanted to see the instruments these poor +people use, and I asked the little old man who sells matches on the +Embankment to come up.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry remembered. +</p> + +<p> +“At any rate, he couldn’t have made a plan of the room,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“The system seems to be a little bit groggy,” said Sir John when the +doorkeeper had gone. “We can’t really blame this man. It is our own +fault.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s hardly enough light in the main hall to read a newspaper +placard,” complained Larry. “Here is the finger-print gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +The officer who came up had a broad smile: the smile of a man who had +justified his hobby. +</p> + +<p> +“Got it first time, sir,” he said. “Fanny Weldon, 280 Coram Street. +Here’s her record.” He handed the card to Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Twice gaoled for impersonation,” he read. “That’s the woman. But how +did she come into this game?” +</p> + +<p> +The officer who had taken the watch away, and who now restored it, +supplied the information. +</p> + +<p> +“Fanny’s a queer woman, sir,” he said. “She hasn’t a spark of +originality, and she’s had all her trouble through helping other +people in their schemes. Big Joe Jaket employed her to impersonate +Miss Lottie Home, the actress, about two years ago; and then she was +employed by somebody else to impersonate a barmaid whilst the landlord +was away, when the Mannic gang cleared out three thousand from the +Hotel Victor Hugo.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry was sitting at the table, his chin in his palm, thinking. +</p> + +<p> +“That is what has happened,” he said. “These people have got track of +all the crooks in London, and it’s just as likely they’ve employed +Fanny. No. 280 Coram Street, I think you said? We’ll see what Fanny +has to say for herself.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not see Fanny until daylight. No. 280 Coram Street was a corner +house, apparently rented out in rooms. Soon after daybreak a cab drew +up to the kerb outside the door and a woman stepped out and paid the +driver. As she walked to the door, Larry came behind her and took her +arm. She turned round with an exclamation of fright. She was a pretty +woman with a shrewish mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, what are you doing?” she asked in alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re coming for a little walk with me,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it a cop?” she asked, going pale. +</p> + +<p> +“A fair cop,” said Larry, and, still holding her elbow, led her to the +nearest police station, where Diana and his officers were waiting. +</p> + +<p> +On the way to the station she bewailed her fate. +</p> + +<p> +“This comes of being obliging,” she said bitterly. “What’s the +charge?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sacrilege,” said Larry solemnly, and she was astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“Sacrilege? What do you mean? Breaking into a church or something?” +</p> + +<p> +“Breaking into Scotland Yard,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +She drew a long breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Then it <i>is</i> a cop!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve said it,” replied her captor. +</p> + +<p> +They put her in the steel pen, but not before she had been searched by +one of the woman attendants. The search produced £150 in bank-notes, +which Fanny, who had now recovered her good spirits, insisted should +be counted. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve lost things in police stations before,” she said significantly. +</p> + +<p> +She was not taken to the cells, but in a little waiting room Larry and +Diana interviewed her. And the presence of Diana was a source of great +interest to the prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve brought your young lady along, I see?” she said flippantly. +She was <i>gamine</i> right through, despite her smart clothes and her +elaborate jewellery. “Is this the lady I ‘took off’?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s the identical lady,” said Larry. “Now, Fanny, I’m going to talk +to you like a father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go ahead and don’t mind me,” said Fanny recklessly. “But I can tell +you that I’ve been going straight for months,” and Larry grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to draw a line alongside that straight course of +yours,” he said. “It’d be a bit bumpy. Fanny, I’m going to give you a +chance. And I shall be perfectly frank with you. Scotland Yard doesn’t +want the world to know that a female hook has broken in under its nose +and pinched certain articles of value.” +</p> + +<p> +The woman laughed softly, and, catching Diana’s eye, winked. +</p> + +<p> +“It takes a woman to do that sort of thing, eh, dearie?” she asked. +“Proceed with your story, Mr. Busy Fellow. But if you think I’m going +to give anybody away, why, you’re making a mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will give away just what I want you to give away,” said Larry +sharply. “You are going to tell me who employed you to do this job.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“You will also tell me who was the man to whom you handed the stuff, +and where.” +</p> + +<p> +Again she shook her head, but she was in a good humour. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no use in asking me questions,” she said. “I’m not going to +answer. You can put me into the cell just as soon as you like, and +save yourself a lot of trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll put you into the cell after I’ve charged you,” said Larry +quietly, and the woman looked up sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“You have charged me with breaking and entering,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“That is not the crime which I shall bring against you,” said Larry. +“If I get no satisfaction from you now I shall take you back to the +pen and charge you with being an accessory to the murder of Gordon +Stuart on the night of the twenty-third of April.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him, speechless. +</p> + +<p> +“Murder?” she repeated. “Good Gawd! You don’t mean that I’m in——” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re in bad,” said Larry. “You’re assisting murderers to escape the +processes of justice. You were employed to steal a very important clue +which the police held, and which might have led to the conviction of +the murderer—and that is sufficient offence to bring you under the +gravest suspicion.” +</p> + +<p> +She was serious now. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean that?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I do indeed,” said Larry earnestly. “See here, Fanny, I don’t want +you to think I’m kidding you. I’m giving it you as straight as it’s +possible for one human being to give a thing to another. You went out +to steal the clue which might have led to the arrest of the +murderers.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is your name?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Inspector Larry Holt,” and she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Suffering Moses! Then I <i>am</i> in bad!” she said. “I thought you were +abroad. Now, Mr. Holt, I’ll tell you. I’ve heard a lot about you, and +I’m told that you always play straight with a hook. I knew nothing +about this job until yesterday afternoon, and then I had a telephone +call asking me to meet Big Jake, or Blind Jake as they call him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Blind Jake?” repeated Larry, to whom the name was new, and then he +recalled the blind match-seller on the Embankment who had come to his +office—but it could not be he. Diana had said he was a small man. +</p> + +<p> +“Your men know all about him, Mr. Holt,” Fanny hesitated. “He’s a +wicked man. Now, that sounds funny coming from me; but if you know +what I mean, he’s just wicked. I’m scared to death of Blind Jake, and +there isn’t a hook in London who isn’t. He’s been inside twice: once +for unlawfully wounding and once for being in possession of property. +There used to be three of ’em, all hooks together, and all blind! We +used to call ’em the Blind Eyes of London, because they could get +about quicker than you, and in a fog they’d beat the best detectives +that ever lived, because fog never means anything to them. Blind Jake +used to be the boss of the three, and then one of ’em disappeared and +I heard he was dead. We never heard much about them for twelve months, +and then Blind Jake turned up again with yards of money. I believe he +is working for a big boss.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you met Blind Jake?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she nodded. “He gave me the plan——” +</p> + +<p> +“Not his own—he couldn’t draw,” interrupted Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Not him,” said the woman contemptuously. “No, he brought the plan +with him. I’ve got it somewhere. Maybe it’s in the bag you’ve taken.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry about the plan,” said Larry. “I found that in the +office.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Blind Jake told me how to go about it, said he would give me a +coat and a hat that this young lady always wore when she went to the +Yard, and I got instructions that I was to say ‘47’ when I went into +the room, and run upstairs quick.” +</p> + +<p> +“What were you told to get?” +</p> + +<p> +“A little roll of brown paper,” said the woman. “They told me where it +was and almost how it was placed in the tray.” She shrugged her +shoulders. “I can’t guess how they knew.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can,” said Larry, and turned to the girl. “The little old +match-seller recovered his sight! Where can I find Blind Jake?” he +asked the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t find him,” she said, shaking her head. “He never comes out +by day—at least, very seldom.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is he like in appearance?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very big and as strong as an ox.” +</p> + +<p> +Diana uttered an exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“Has he a beard?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, miss,” said the woman. “A little grayish kind of beard.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was the man on the stairs,” said Diana. “I am certain of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he said, addressing the woman, “when did you hand over the +stuff?” +</p> + +<p> +“About two o’clock this morning. That was the time he said I was to +meet him at the lower end of Arundel Street in the Strand, near the +Embankment. And a pretty fine temper he was in, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know where he lives?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Years ago they used to live in Todd’s Home,” she said. “That’s an +institute in Lissom Lane, Paddington, where they used to look after +the blind hawkers. But I don’t think he’s there now.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry took the woman back to the charge room. +</p> + +<p> +“You can release her on my recognizance,” he said. “Fanny, you will +report to me to-morrow morning at Scotland Yard at ten o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Fanny. “What about my money?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry thought a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“You can take that,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“If anybody tells me,” said Fanny, as she collected and counted her +notes with offensive care, “that the police are dishonest, I shall +have something to say.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch13"> +CHAPTER XIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">TODD’S HOME</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">My dear</span>,” said Larry gently, “you really must go home and go to +bed.” +</p> + +<p> +Diana shook her head laughingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I really am not tired, Mr. Holt,” she said. “Won’t you let me go +along with you? You know, you promised to keep me in this case.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t promise to keep you up all night,” he said good-humouredly, +“and you’re looking a wreck. I don’t think I shall do anything much +more this morning—except sleep,” said he. “Now, off you go. There’s a +providential taxi crawling this way,” he said, and whistled. +</p> + +<p> +She was feeling desperately tired, and she knew his words were the +words of wisdom. But she made one last ineffectual protest. Larry was +adamant. The cab drew up and he opened the door for her. +</p> + +<p> +“Sergeant Harvey will go home with you,” he said, and drew Harvey +aside. “Go upstairs to Miss Ward’s room, search it thoroughly, and +remain on duty on the lower landing until you’re relieved.” +</p> + +<p> +He watched the cab out of sight, then turned to the second officer who +had accompanied him. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, sergeant,” he said, “I think we will investigate Todd’s Home.” +</p> + +<p> +It was some time before they found another taxi, and Larry had a +constitutional objection to walking. Six o’clock was booming out from +the church towers when the cab put them down before Todd’s Home. It +was a bleak, unlovely house, the windows covered with blue-wash. A +long black board, covering the width of the house, was inscribed in +faded gold letters: “Todd’s Home for the Indigent Blind.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry expected he would have some difficulty in making the inmates +hear, but he was mistaken; for hardly had he knocked when the door was +opened by a little man. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not Toby and not Harry and not Old Joe,” he said loudly. “Who +is it?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry saw that he was blind. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see the superintendent,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said the man in a tone of respect. “Just wait here, will +you?” +</p> + +<p> +He went down a long passage full of turns and angles, so that he +disappeared from sight, and presently they heard him shuffling back in +his slippered feet, and behind him walked a tall man wearing a white +clerical collar. His eyes were covered with dark blue glasses, and he, +too, felt his way along the passage. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you please come in?” he said in an educated voice. He was a man +of powerful build, and his clean-shaven face denoted a strength of +character out of the ordinary. “I am John Dearborn—the Rev. John +Dearborn,” he explained as he led the way. “We have few visitors here, +alas! I’m afraid Todd’s Home is not very popular.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not speak resentfully but cheerfully, and as one who had a +great spirit. Nor did he make allusion to the early hour they had +chosen. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a little farther along, gentlemen,” he said. “I know there are +two of you because I can hear your footsteps. Mind the step—this +way.” +</p> + +<p> +He pushed open a door and they went in. The room was cosily furnished, +and the first thing that Larry noticed was the bare condition of the +walls; and then he remembered, with a little pang, that the blind have +no need for pictures. +</p> + +<p> +A curious little instrument stood by the side of the table, which was +the principal article of furniture in the room, and a tiny wheel was +spinning as they came in. The superintendent walked unerringly to the +machine. There was the snap of a button and the wheel ceased to +revolve. +</p> + +<p> +“This is my dictating machine,” he explained, turning to them with a +smile. “I am engaged in literary work, and I can dictate to this +cylinder, which is then transferred to an operator who types from my +voice.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry expressed polite interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, gentlemen,” said the Rev. John Dearborn as he seated himself, +“to what am I indebted for the honour of this visit?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am an officer from Scotland Yard,” said Larry, “and my name is +Holt.” +</p> + +<p> +The other inclined his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope none of my unfortunate men have been getting into trouble?” he +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t exactly know yet,” said Larry. “At present, I am searching +for a man called Blind Jake.” +</p> + +<p> +“Blind Jake?” repeated the other slowly. “I don’t think we have had +such a name in the Home since I have been in charge. I’ve been here +for four years,” he explained. “It used to be run, and very badly run, +by a man who got together quite the worst type of blind men in London. +You know that the blind are wonderful and heroic, and the majority of +them are positively an inspiration to those who have sight. But there +are a class of men so afflicted who are the scum of the earth. You +have probably heard of the Dark Eyes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not until this morning,” said Larry, and the other nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“We have got rid of those people, and we have now very respectable old +hawkers who come here, where everything is done for them. You would +like to see the home?” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know Blind Jake?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have never heard of him,” said the Rev. John Dearborn, “but if you +will come with me, we will make inquiries.” +</p> + +<p> +The Home consisted of four dormitories and a common room; and in this +latter, reeking with tobacco smoke, sat the inmates of the Home. Larry +looked round and could scarcely repress a shiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Just one moment,” said Mr. Dearborn, when he had ushered the two men +into the passage. He returned shortly, shaking his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody there knows Blind Jake, though one has heard of him.” +</p> + +<p> +They ascended to the first dormitory. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t suppose you want to see any more,” said Mr. Dearborn. +</p> + +<p> +Larry raised his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I heard somebody groaning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, a sad case,” said the superintendent. “There are cubicles +upstairs for those men who can afford to pay a little more than their +fellows. In one of them we have a man who, I fear, is going out of his +mind. I have had to report the case to the local authorities.” +</p> + +<p> +“May we go upstairs?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“With pleasure,” said the Rev. Dearborn, after a moment’s hesitation. +“The only thing I am afraid of,” he said as he led the way, “is that +the language of this man will distress you.” +</p> + +<p> +In a little cubicle lay a wizened man of sixty, who tossed desperately +to and fro in his bed, and all the time he was talking, talking to +some invisible person. And Larry, watching him, wondered. +</p> + +<p> +“Brute! Coward!” muttered the man on the bed. “You’ll swing for it, +mark my words! You’ll swing for it!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is very terrible,” said the Rev. John Dearborn, turning away and +shaking his head. “This way, gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +But Larry did not move. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, Jake, you’ll suffer, too! Mark my words, you’ll suffer! +Let them do their dirty work! I didn’t put the paper in his pocket, I +tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry took a step into the cubicle, and, bending over, shook the man. +</p> + +<p> +“Let go my arm, you’re hurting it,” said the man on the bed, and Larry +released his hold. +</p> + +<p> +“Wake up,” he said, “I want to speak to you.” +</p> + +<p> +But the man went talking on, and Larry shook him again. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave me alone,” growled the old man. “I don’t want to have any more +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is your name?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want any more trouble,” said the man. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s quite delirious,” said John Dearborn. “He is under the +impression that he’s accused of a practical joke on one of his friends +downstairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he said ‘Jake,’ ” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a Jake below—Jake Horley. Would you like to see him? He’s a +little fellow and rather amusing.” +</p> + +<p> +Disappointed, Larry walked down the stairs and took farewell of his +conductor. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very glad to have had a visit from the police,” said John +Dearborn. “I only wish that we could persuade other people to come to +us. You have seen some of our work and some of the difficulties with +which we are faced. Before you go,” he added, “perhaps you will tell +me why you are seeking Blind Jake? The men will be consumed with +curiosity to know the reason for this police visit.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is easy to satisfy,” smiled Larry. “There is a charge against +him made by a woman to the effect that she was employed by him to +commit a felony.” +</p> + +<p> +The police officer who was with him gasped, for it is not the practice +of the police to give away their informants. +</p> + +<p> +Larry opened the door himself and paused with his hand upon the +handle. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon my asking what may be a very painful question, Mr. Dearborn,” +he said gently. “Are you afflicted——?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said the other cheerfully, “I am quite blind. I wear these +glasses from sheer vanity. I think they improve my appearance.” He +laughed softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye,” said Larry, shaking his disengaged hand, and then he +pulled the door open and came face to face with Flash Fred. +</p> + +<p> +Flash Fred was dumbfounded, and he walked backwards down the few steps +at some peril to himself. Larry surveyed him, his head on one side, +like an inquisitive hen. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you following me or am I following you?” he asked gently. “And +why this early rising, Fred? Have you been out all night at +your—business?” +</p> + +<p> +For once Fred had no words. He had walked all the way from Jermyn +Street to Paddington, and had been very careful to see that he had not +been followed. At last he found his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“So it was a trap, was it?” he said bitterly. “I might have guessed +it. But you’ve got nothing on me, Mr. Holt.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have several things on you,” said Larry pleasantly. He had +unconsciously closed the door of the Home behind him. “I don’t like +your face, I don’t like your jewels, I positively loathe your record. +What is the idea, Fred? Have you called to deliver a contribution? Is +your conscience pricking you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stow that stuff, Mr. Holt,” growled Fred, and to Larry’s surprise +began walking away with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you going to the Home?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m not,” snapped Fred. +</p> + +<p> +They walked on in silence, Fred between the two police officers, and +his thoughts were very busy. They had reached the broad thoroughfare +of Edgware Road before he had completed his mental exoneration. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you’ve got me for. You can’t pinch me for ancient +’istory.” +</p> + +<p> +In moments of perturbation Fred suffered certain lapses of style. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>H</i>istory,” corrected Larry. “For the matter of that, I don’t know +why you’re with us. But since you’ve forced yourself upon us, and +since there’s nobody to see the disgraceful company I keep, I will +endure you.” +</p> + +<p> +Fred stopped short. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to tell me that I’m not pinched?” he asked incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“So far as I am concerned you are not,” said Larry, “unless Sergeant +Reed has a private engagement with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not me, sir,” smiled Sergeant Reed. “Who told you you were pinched, +Fred?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that beats it,” said Fred, aghast. “What was the game?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know somebody at the Home?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know it from a cowshed,” said Fred. “I had to inquire my way +of a milkman.” +</p> + +<p> +“You should have asked a policeman,” murmured Larry. “There are plenty +about.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are too many about for me,” replied Flash Fred vindictively. +“Here, Mr. Holt,” he said with sudden seriousness, “you’re a +gentleman, and I know you wouldn’t put me wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry passed the compliment without comment. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he said, and Fred dived into his inner pocket and produced a +letter. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you make of this, sir?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Larry opened the letter, which was addressed to Fred Grogan, and +began: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +They are going to arrest you to-morrow. Larry Holt has the warrant for +execution. Come to Todd’s Home in Lissom Lane at half-past six in the +morning and ask to see “Lew,” and he will give you information that +will help you to make a get-away. Don’t allow yourself to be shadowed, +or tell anybody where you are going. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +It was unsigned, and Larry folded the letter and was about to give it +to Fred. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mind if I keep this?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, I don’t mind. But, Mr. Holt, will you tell me,” he demanded +nervously, “is there any truth in that yarn of my being pinched?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“So far as I know you are not on the list, and certainly I have no +warrant for you, Fred,” he said. “In fact, you have such a good record +just now that if you ran straight you could pretty well live without +fear of the police.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sounds damned uninteresting to me,” said Flash Fred as he slouched +off, and Larry let him go. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch14"> +CHAPTER XIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">FANNY HAS A VISITOR</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">No.</span> 280 Coram Street was an apartment house, and Mrs. Fanny Weldon +occupied two rooms, one facing Coram Street and one a side turning. +She lived well and she paid well, gave little or no trouble, and the +breath of scandal did not touch her name. Not noticeably. She was in +truth the star boarder, and her landlady would have gone very far to +oblige Fanny, always providing that the fair name of 280 was not +assailed. +</p> + +<p> +This woman crook had spent a busy night, yet sleep refused to come to +her in the day, and she rose at three in the afternoon and busied +herself with those occupations which women of all kinds find +interesting. She had a hat to trim, some dainty silk to iron, a little +mending and a little darning. +</p> + +<p> +“You were up late last night, Mrs. Weldon?” said the landlady, +bringing her tea with her own hands. +</p> + +<p> +Fanny nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“To be exact, I wasn’t in bed all night,” she said. “I went to a +dance. What time is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Six o’clock. I thought you were sleeping, and as you didn’t ring, I +didn’t disturb you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to bed early to-night,” said Fanny, yawning. “Is there +anything fresh?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my dear,” said the landlady, professionally maternal. “We’ve got +a new young gentleman in the opposite room,” she jerked her thumb at +the door. “A gentleman from Manchester, and very quiet. Mrs. Hooper +made some trouble about the dinner.” She retailed grisly gossip of the +boarding house. +</p> + +<p> +“Send me up something cold on a tray,” said Fanny. “I am going to bed +early. I have a very important appointment to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +She was looking forward to her appointment with Larry Holt in no great +spirit of enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +It was half-past seven when the woman undressed slowly and went to +bed. She was deadly tired, and she fell asleep almost before her head +touched the pillow. The dreams of evil-doers are no more unsound as a +rule than the dreams of the pure and virtuous. But Fanny was +over-tired and dreamt badly—ghastly dreams of monstrous shapes; of +high buildings on the parapet of which she was poised, ready to fall; +of men who chased her armed with long bright knives—and she turned +and twisted in her bed restlessly. Then she dreamt she had committed a +murder: she had murdered Gordon Stuart. She had never heard of Gordon +Stuart until Larry had mentioned his name, but she pictured him as a +weak youth. +</p> + +<p> +And now the day of doom had come, she dreamt, and they brought her +from the cell with her hands strapped behind her, and she paced slowly +by the side of a white-robed clergyman into a little shed. And then a +man, an executioner, had stepped out, and he had the mocking face of +Blind Jake. She felt the rope about her neck, and tried to scream, but +it was choking her, choking her. She woke up. +</p> + +<p> +Two hands were about her throat, and in the reflected light from a +street lamp outside she looked up into the sightless face of Blind +Jake. It was no dream, it was reality! She tried to move, but he held +her so that she was powerless. One of his knees pressed on her and he +was talking softly, a sibilant whisper, meant only for her ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Fanny, you gave me away,” he whispered. “You gave me away, you devil! +Poor old Blind Jake! You tried to put him into jug, you did! I know +all about it. I’ve got a little pal at Todd’s who told me. And now +you’re going out, d’ye hear?” +</p> + +<p> +She was choking, choking; she could not articulate, she felt her face +going purple and the cruel hands tightening. And then the light +switched on, and the “man from Manchester” who had occupied the +bedroom on the opposite side of the landing, and who had waited +throughout the night listening for the stealthy tread of Blind Jake, +knowing that he would come after he had learnt he was betrayed—Larry +Holt, a long Browning in his hand, covered the strangler. +</p> + +<p> +“Put up your hands, Jake,” he said, and Blind Jake turned round with a +low growl like the snarl of a tiger at bay. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch15"> +CHAPTER XV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE FIGHT IN THE DARK</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">For</span> a moment they stood thus, neither man moving, then Jake put up +his hands slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Got a little gun, have ye?” he growled. “You’re not going to hurt a +poor old man, Mr. Holt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come forward steadily,” said Larry, “and don’t try any tricks or +you’ll be sorry for yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry enough now, Mr. Holt,” grumbled the man. +</p> + +<p> +It was wonderful to watch him. He moved as lightly as a girl and his +extraordinary sixth sense enabled him to avoid every obstacle which +stood in his way. +</p> + +<p> +Larry was in a dilemma. The man’s advance toward him brought the +half-fainting woman on the bed in the line of fire. But for that he +undoubtedly intended to shoot if the man showed fight, but it was +impossible to fire now, even to save his life, without risking the +life of Fanny Weldon. And yet it would have been unfair and asking the +impossible to expect the man to advance by any other way, the +furniture in the room being disposed as it was. But the real danger to +Larry he never saw until it was upon him. +</p> + +<p> +The big man came forward, his hands in the air, and one of them +touched awkwardly the hanging electric light. And then before Larry +knew or guessed what was happening, the big man’s hand closed round +the bulb, there was a deafening explosion as it burst under the +pressure, and the room was in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +To fire now would have been madness, and Larry put one foot back and +braced himself to meet the shock of the body which he knew was +hurtling toward him. And then he found himself in the hands of Blind +Jake. Diana had not exaggerated his strength. It was terrific, and +though Larry was a strong man he felt himself going under. What might +have been the result of that struggle, Larry Holt has never speculated +upon in cold blood. But there came an interruption, the sound of an +opening door on the landing above and a man’s voice, and then Blind +Jake lifted the detective as though he had been a bundle of rags, and +flung him to the other end of the room, where he lay gasping and +breathless. +</p> + +<p> +A second later the door had opened and Blind Jake was going down the +carpeted stairs faster than any man with eyesight would have dared. +</p> + +<p> +Larry struggled to his feet, took his flash lamp from the floor and +found his revolver where it had dropped. He picked it up and, running +to the window, flung it open and peered out. But Blind Jake had +already gone round the corner. +</p> + +<p> +Somebody brought another bulb, and Larry went to look after the girl. +She was still unconscious, the purple marks about her throat +testifying to the character of Blind Jake’s grip. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better get a doctor,” he said to the landlady, who was the +third person in the room, and she looked at him with suspicion and +distrust. +</p> + +<p> +“What were you doing in this room?” she asked accusingly. “I am going +to send for a policeman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Send for two,” said Larry, “and get a doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately the police station was near at hand, and the divisional +surgeon had been called to examine a doubtful case of drunkenness, and +he was on the spot within a few minutes. +</p> + +<p> +By this time the woman had come back to life, but had subsided into a +condition of hysteria painful to witness. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better get her into an infirmary or a hospital, I think, +doctor,” said Holt, and the surgeon agreed. +</p> + +<p> +He was looking at the marks about her throat with a puzzled +expression. +</p> + +<p> +“No man could have done this,” he said, “he must have used an +instrument of some kind.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry laughed. It was a very rueful laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“If you think that, doctor,” he said, “you’d better have a look at my +throat,” and he showed the red weal where Blind Jake’s thumb and +finger had gripped. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say that he did that to you?” asked the doctor +incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not mean to say very much about it,” said Larry, “because it is +not an adventure of which I am inordinately proud, but he picked me up +like a tennis ball and chucked me amongst the crockery-ware under the +window.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor whistled. By this time the landlady had been assured of +Larry’s <i>bona fides</i> and was at once apologetic and tearful at the +indignity which had been offered to her house by the presence, even +for one night, of a detective officer. +</p> + +<p> +Larry went out into the street to breathe the night air. He was dizzy +and shaky and sore. The fact that he, Larry Holt, who had pretensions +to winning the middle-weight amateur championship, had been treated +like a punch-ball did not distress him. What made him grave was the +knowledge that there was loose in the world, and in the city of +London, a man of the criminal classes more dangerous than a tiger, +with the strength of a bear and an intelligence which was little +better than a monkey’s. +</p> + +<p> +“And that exhausts the whole Zoölogical Gardens,” said Larry after he +had enumerated the unpleasant qualities of his assailant. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour afterwards every police station received an all-stations +message, and the hunt for Blind Jake had begun. +</p> + +<p> +Larry reached his flat at three o’clock, and Sunny was dozing +peacefully in a chair. He aroused his servant with a gentle tap. +</p> + +<p> +“Sunny,” said he, “I have had the experience of a lifetime.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you have, sir,” said Sunny, blinking himself awake. “Will +you have some coffee, too, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry was thinking, thinking, thinking. He stood with his hands in his +pockets and his legs wide apart, gazing down at the hearthrug. +</p> + +<p> +“He took me by the scruff of the neck, Sunny,” he said softly, “and he +threw me to the other side of the room.” +</p> + +<p> +“He would, sir,” said Sunny. “What time would you like your tea in the +morning?” +</p> + +<p> +Weary and sick as he was, Larry had to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“If I were brought home with my neck broken, Sunny,” he demanded +irritably, “what would you do?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should stop the morning papers, sir,” said Sunny without +hesitation. “I think I should be doing right, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you got a heart?” snarled Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” was the surprising reply. “The doctor says it’s +indigestion, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry made a gesture of despair, kicked off his boots, slipped off his +coat and vest, followed that with his collar and tie, and loosening +his braces, he lay down on the bed and pulled the eiderdown over him. +He did this partly because he was very tired and partly because he +knew that it would annoy Sunny. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch16"> +CHAPTER XVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">MR. GROGAN MEETS A LADY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">There</span> was a fashionable wedding on the Monday at St. George’s, +Hanover Square. A queue of motor-cars and broughams stretched in all +directions and lined both sides of the streets and partly filled +Hanover Square. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst those present, as they say, was Mr. Frederick Grogan. Flash +Fred had not been invited, for two reasons. In the first place, the +friends of bride and bridegroom did not know him, and in the second +place he would not have been invited if they had. But a little thing +like an invitation did not worry Fred. He knew that when the family of +the bride and the bridegroom were meeting for the first time and were +regarding one another with mutual suspicion and deprecation, and when +all sorts of obscure cousins emerged from the oblivion which happily +covered them and were not even recognizable to the principal actors in +the great drama, that a face such as his, and a smartly tailored +figure such as he possessed, would pass muster and gain for him a +prominent seat. So he arrived at St. George’s in a glossy silk hat, +white kid gloves, and perfectly pressed trousers, and made his way up +the aisle, where he was mistaken for the bridegroom. +</p> + +<p> +He had not come because he wished to break into society, but because +it was a fashion for women to wear their precious jewels in the early +hours of the morning at such functions as these. He had no particular +piece of villainy in view. He was merely surveying the land as a good +general might survey a possible battlefield. +</p> + +<p> +Marriages did not interest him. He regarded them as superfluous +ceremonies indulged in by the idle rich and the hopeless bourgeoisie. +The ceremony, which was long, bored him to extinction, and he heartily +regretted having taken so prominent a place and being prevented, in +consequence, from stealing gently out, or from watching the people who +were in his rear. At last the service ended, the organ pealed a +triumphant note, and the bride and bridegroom, looking extremely +ashamed of themselves, proceeded solemnly down the aisle, and Fred +fell in, in the ranks of the near and dear, and came out on to the +steps. +</p> + +<p> +He was wondering whether it would be politic or advisable to go on to +the reception, having discovered where that reception would be held, +when somebody touched his arm, and he turned quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, Dr. Judd!” he said, relieved, “I thought it was that fellow +Holt. He follows me about until he’s got on my nerves.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd, a fine figure of a man in his morning dress, was eyeing him +sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“You told me you were going to Nice,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I missed the train,” replied Fred glibly, “and my pal went on without +me. I’m staying over for a few days and then I hope to get away.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd was thoughtful. +</p> + +<p> +“Walk a little way along with me,” he said. “I want to talk to you.” +</p> + +<p> +They walked without speaking a word to one another into Hanover +Square, and turned toward Bond Street. +</p> + +<p> +“You are getting on my nerves, Mr. Grogan,” said Dr. Judd. “At least I +thought I had the satisfaction of knowing that you were taking +abnormal risks on the continent of Europe. Instead I find you living a +fashionable life in Jermyn Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you said you didn’t know I was still here?” asked Fred +quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I said nothing of the sort,” replied the calm doctor, “I merely +remarked that I thought you had said you were going to Nice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you knew I was here, then,” said Fred. +</p> + +<p> +“I had heard you were here,” said Dr. Judd. “Now, Mr. Grogan, don’t +you think you and I should effect some sort of compromise?” +</p> + +<p> +Fred was all ears. +</p> + +<p> +“In what way?” he asked cautiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose,” said Dr. Judd, “I gave you a lump sum down on condition +that you did not bother me again?” +</p> + +<p> +Nothing better suited Fred’s plans. Supposing the sum were a +reasonable one, he would be saved the bother and anxiety of a +burglary. Or he might even add that relaxation to swell his profits. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m agreeable,” he said, after a reasonable pause, and Dr. Judd eyed +him seriously. +</p> + +<p> +“You will have to keep faith with me,” he said. “I do not intend +parting with £12,000——” +</p> + +<p> +“Twelve thousand pounds!” said Fred quickly. “Yes, that seems a nice +tidy sum.” +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat,” said the doctor, “I do not intend parting with that sum +unless I have a guarantee that you will not molest me again. Will you +dine with me at my house in Chelsea to-morrow night at eight o’clock?” +</p> + +<p> +Fred nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“There will be a few people to dinner,” said the doctor, “but nobody +who knows you, and I must ask as a personal favour that you will not +endeavour to follow up any acquaintance you make to-morrow night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think I am too much of a gentleman to do that sort of +thing?” asked Fred, virtuously indignant. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t,” said the doctor shortly, and parted from him at the corner +of Bond Street. +</p> + +<p> +Twelve thousand pounds! That was a most admirable arrangement, and +Fred, whose funds were getting low, trod on air as he strolled down +Old Bond Street toward Piccadilly. +</p> + +<p> +In his exaltation, when his generous soul had swollen, and his whole +mental system was experiencing the sensation of largeness, he saw a +girl on the opposite side of the road. Hers was not a face to be +forgotten. He had seen it once under an electric light between St. +Martin’s and the Strand, and he increased his pace, crossing the road +and following behind her, not, however, without an anxious glance +behind him. For once Larry Holt was invisible. +</p> + +<p> +“It could not have happened better,” said Fred, for he was sensible of +his fine appearance. +</p> + +<p> +He overtook her at the corner of Piccadilly and raised his hat with a +smile, and for a moment Diana was under the impression that she knew +this stranger and her hand was halfway up when he made the mistake of +repeating that fashionable formula: +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you and I met before somewhere?” +</p> + +<p> +She drew her hand back. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” said Fred, “you’re the most wonderful thing in the world, +and I simply want to know you!” +</p> + +<p> +This, too, was part of the formula and had been effective on many +occasions. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you had better call on me,” she said, and Flash Fred scarcely +believed his good fortune. +</p> + +<p> +She opened the little leather bag she carried and took out a card, +scribbling a number. +</p> + +<p> +“A million thanks!” said Fred elegantly as he took the card. “I’ll +give you mine in a minute. Now what about a little dinner——” He +lifted the card and read: “Miss Diana Ward—a beautiful name,” he +said. “Diana! Room 47,” and then his face underwent a change. +“Scotland Yard!” he said hollowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am with Mr. Larry Holt,” she said sweetly, and Fred swallowed +something. +</p> + +<p> +“If he ain’t here you’re here, and if you’re not here he’s here,” he +said savagely. “Why can’t you leave a gentleman alone?” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch17"> +CHAPTER XVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE INSURANCE MONEY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">That</span> afternoon Diana made a request of her employer which +disappointed him a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” he said, “I shan’t want you this evening. Going to a +dance, do you say?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s fine,” he said heartily. “I hope you enjoy yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +It chilled him a little, for he was so completely absorbed by the game +that he could not understand that what was fun to him was work to her. +She must have read his thoughts, for she said, with a little jerk of +her chin which was characteristic of her: +</p> + +<p> +“I am merely going on duty, Mr. Holt. I should not have thought of +going to the dance, but the man who asked me is a young underwriter to +whom I was secretary for about six months,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“You seem to have started work at a very early age,” he smiled. “Did +you go to a public school?” +</p> + +<p> +“I went to a council school,” she replied quietly. “My aunt who +brought me up was very poor.” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t know your father and mother?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you’re not going to associate me with the missing Clarissa,” +she smiled. “I am afraid my origin is a little less romantic. I am +always expecting to find my father figuring in the records of Scotland +Yard, if he is alive, for Mrs. Ward never spoke of him except in +uncomplimentary terms. Yes, I did begin work rather young.” +</p> + +<p> +“You say you are going on duty,” he interrupted her. “What do you +mean?” +</p> + +<p> +She went to her desk and took up her handbag, opened it and produced a +letter. +</p> + +<p> +“It will interest you to know,” she smiled, “that Mr. Gray’s wife will +be there to chaperon me and joins in the invitation.” +</p> + +<p> +It did interest Larry very much indeed. He did not say so because he +thought it might be indiscreet, and he was not quite sure of how he +would express the pleasure that news brought to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the paragraph that made me decide to go,” said the girl, and +read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“We have had a pretty bad time lately. The loss of a ship in the +Baltic hit my partner rather hard, and I have had to pay out a very +considerable sum of money over the death of a man named Stuart.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“Stuart?” said Larry quickly. “That can’t be our Stuart. By the way, +the jury have just returned a verdict of ‘Found drowned’ in that case. +We did not care to oppose the verdict, or offer any evidence which +might put the murderers on their guard. Stuart, eh?” he nodded to +himself several times. “I owe you an apology, Diana,” he said, using +her name for the first time. “I thought you were going to frivol, and +I was hoping that you were sufficiently interested in this case to +give your whole mind to it.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him with kindling eyes, and her face was flushed pink. +</p> + +<p> +“I am giving all my mind to it,” she said in a low voice. “It is +lovely working with you,” and then, to change the subject, she told +him of her adventure with Fred. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old Fred,” chuckled Larry. “You have the satisfaction of knowing +that he will avoid you like the plague for the future. What time will +you come back?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” She was surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“I was wondering whether you could come here, or whether I’d be +waiting on the door-mat for you in Charing Cross Road. I want to know +what you have discovered.” +</p> + +<p> +She nibbled her finger thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I will come to the Yard,” she said. “I’ll be here soon after eleven.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked with narrowed eyes at the mark on his throat. +</p> + +<p> +“Does that feel awfully sore?” she asked sympathetically. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so bad,” said Larry. “Injury to vanity doing very badly. It will +take some time before that heals.” +</p> + +<p> +“He must be terribly strong,” she said with a shudder. “I shall never +forget that night on the stairs. I suppose there is no news of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever,” said Larry. “He’s gone to ground.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you watching the Home?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Home?” he said in surprise. “No, I don’t think that is necessary. +The superintendent seems a very decent sort of man. I saw the local +police inspector and he told me that every man in the Home is an +honest character, and he can vouch for all of them except the fellow +they call ‘Lew.’ He was the man I saw upstairs who seemed to be +half-demented.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to ask you a favour,” she said. “Will you take me to-morrow to +the Home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ye-es,” he hesitated. “But——” +</p> + +<p> +“But will you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely if you wish to go, but I don’t think you’ll find any clue +there to bring us nearer to the gentleman who murdered Stuart.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder?” she said thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +She permitted him to lunch with her that day: it was a joyous meal for +Larry and he was unusually incoherent. The afternoon was a more +serious time for him, for his search for documentary proof that +Diana’s theory was correct and that Mrs. Stuart had had twin daughters +had been unavailing. There was no record of the children’s births, +though the files at Somerset House had been diligently examined. +</p> + +<p> +“Check Number Two,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Which will be overcome,” replied the girl, “though it is curious that +a woman of Mrs. Stuart’s position should have neglected to register +her children.” +</p> + +<p> +She said this and smiled, and Larry asked her why. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Ward had views on that subject. My aunt, whose name I bear,” she +said. “She hated vaccination, registration, and education!” +</p> + +<p> +“What happened to your aunt? Did she die?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +The girl was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“No—she didn’t die.” +</p> + +<p> +She said this so strangely that Larry looked at her and the girl went +crimson. +</p> + +<p> +“I oughtn’t to talk about her if I’m not prepared to go on,” she said +quietly. “I—I come from a very bad stock, Mr. Holt. My aunt stole +from her employer, and I rather think she made a practice of doing so. +At any rate, when I was twelve, she went away for quite a long time +and I never saw her again.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry crossed the room and laid his hand on the girl’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” he said, “you have succeeded in shaking loose and +establishing yourself in a truly marvellous way. I am very proud of +you.” +</p> + +<p> +When she looked up her eyes were filled with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“I think she drank: I’m not quite sure. She was very good to me when I +needed her most,” she said. “I would like to know what has happened to +her, but I simply dare not ask.” +</p> + +<p> +“She went to prison?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it was an inebriates’ home,” she said. “Now, what are you +doing this afternoon?” she demanded briskly, and Larry laid down his +programme, dictated a letter or two, and went out, leaving her to +finish them. +</p> + +<p> +With every step he took, the Stuart mystery grew more and more of a +tangle. Dead ends and culs-de-sac met him at every turn, and even the +fact that Stuart had been murdered was no fact, but a theory based +upon the eccentricity of the tide which had left his body on the steps +of the Embankment, and a piece of paper, now stolen, embossed with +Braille characters. +</p> + +<p> +He stopped in his walk when he was halfway up Northumberland Avenue, +and took out his pocket-book. +</p> + +<p> +“Murdered… dear… sea…” he read, and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Why the ‘dear’?” he wondered. The man who attempted to betray the +murderers would not go to the trouble of writing “dear sir,” and, +anyway, it occurred in the wrong place. For the girl had pointed out +the characters at the end of the second line. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear, dear, dear,” he repeated as he strolled along, and then, for no +reason at all, a name came into his mind. Dearborn! He laughed +quietly. That good soul of a clergyman, labouring amongst the men who +lived in everlasting darkness! He shook his head again. It is a fact +which all people can verify that if you see an unusual name for the +first time you meet with it again in the course of twenty-four hours. +His walk carried him beyond Shaftesbury Avenue, and in passing a +theatre the name caught his eye. He checked himself and stooped down +to read the playbill of a theatre. +</p> + +<p> +“John Dearborn,” he read. +</p> + +<p> +Dearborn was apparently the author of the play which was being +performed here. What was the theatre? He stepped back in the roadway +and looked up at the name in coloured glass on the edge of the awning. +The Macready! It was from the Macready Theatre that Gordon Stuart +disappeared! +</p> + +<p> +Without hesitation he walked into the vestibule to the booking-office +and his quick eyes fell upon the plan which the office keeper had +before him. There were precious few blue marks, indicating that seats +had been taken. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you tell me where I can find Mr. John Dearborn?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +The office keeper looked at him with an air of pained resignation. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not a friend of the management’s, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” admitted Larry, “I am not.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not a friend of Mr. Dearborn’s, by any chance, are you?” asked +the clerk carelessly, and Larry shook his head. “Well,” said the man, +“I’ll speak my mind. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I don’t know +where to find Mr. Dearborn, and I wish the management didn’t know +where to find him either! I’m leaving this week,” he said, “so it +doesn’t matter very much what I say. He’s about the rottenest +playwright that the world has ever seen. I’m not choking you off +buying a seat, am I?” he asked good-humouredly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said Larry with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I won’t persuade you to buy one,” said the box-office keeper. +“I haven’t any grudge against you, anyway! We had six people in at the +Saturday matinée, and we look like having three to-night. The only +people who take any interest in this play are the Commissioners in +Lunacy, who come along and watch the audience, and whenever a lunatic +breaks out of Hanwell they send the keepers here to search the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t answered my question. Do you know where I can find the +author of this unfortunate play?” +</p> + +<p> +The clerk shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“He runs a mission for something or other in the West End. Poor chap, +he’s blind, and maybe I oughtn’t to slate him. But he writes rotten +plays.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he continuously writing plays?” asked Larry in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Continuously,” said the other glumly. “I think he writes them in his +sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“And they’re all produced?” +</p> + +<p> +The man nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“And they’re all failures?” +</p> + +<p> +Again the man nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“But why? Surely the management would not produce successive failures +from the same pen?” +</p> + +<p> +“They do,” said the clerk in despair, “and that is why the Macready is +a byword——” +</p> + +<p> +“How long has John Dearborn been writing?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, about ten years. Mind you, it’s not bad stuff in parts. It’s more +mad than bad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does he ever come here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never,” said the man, shaking his head. “I don’t know why, but he +doesn’t, not even to rehearsals.” +</p> + +<p> +“One more question. To whom does the theatre belong?” +</p> + +<p> +“To a syndicate,” said the clerk, who was now growing restive under +the questions. “May I ask why you’re making all these inquiries?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m just asking,” said Larry with a smile, and seeing that no more +information could be got, he went out. +</p> + +<p> +It was rather an amazing situation, he thought. But to connect that +one word “dear” with the author of bad plays, or give to Mr. Dearborn, +an obvious philanthropist, any evil significance, was absurd. He was +outside the theatre when he suddenly remembered and went back. +</p> + +<p> +“As a great personal favour,” he said, “could I see the house?” +</p> + +<p> +The clerk demurred at first, but eventually summoned an attendant. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll find it pretty dark,” he said. “The house lights are not on.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry followed the attendant into the dress-circle and surveyed the +little theatre. It was in gloom. The curtain was down, and the seats +were sheeted in holland. +</p> + +<p> +“Which is Box A?” asked Larry, for that was what he came to see. +</p> + +<p> +The man led him along a passage through a heavy curtain and down a +narrower passage which ran at the back of the boxes, and at the end he +stopped and opened a door on his right. Larry stepped in. The box was +in darkness, and he lit a match. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing peculiar about Box A, except that the carpet on the +floor was thick and rich and the three chairs which formed its +furniture were beautifully designed. +</p> + +<p> +“Are all the boxes furnished like this?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said the man, “only Box A.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry came out and examined the passage. Opposite the door of Box A, a +thick red curtain was draped on the wall. He drew it aside and found +an iron door on which in red letters were the words “Exit in case of +fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where does this lead to?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“To a side street, sir,” said the man. “To Cowley Street. It is not +really a street, but a passage which is the property of this theatre +and is blocked up at one end.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry tipped the man and went out. He was nearer to the solution of +Gordon Stuart’s disappearance and murder at that moment than he had +ever been before. And he knew it. +</p> + +<p> +He was in his office at half-past ten that night, waiting impatiently +for the arrival of the girl, and endeavouring by self-analysis to +discover whether his eagerness to see her was due to his professional +zeal or to his personal interest in the girl herself. +</p> + +<p> +She came at ten minutes to eleven, and he, who had never seen her +before save in her working dress, was stricken dumb at the sight of +this radiant beauty. He could not know that the black tulle dress she +wore cost her something less than £5, or that the bandeau of black +leaves about her golden hair cost something short of ten shillings. To +him she was magnificently arrayed, and a creature so divine and +ethereal that he hardly dared speak to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” he said; “you’re making the furniture look shabby.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed, dropped her cloak on her chair, and Larry forgot the +official and important side of her visit and would have continued in +oblivion if she had not brought him to earth with a triumphant: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Got it?” he stammered. “Oh, yes, you saw your underwriting friend.” +</p> + +<p> +She opened a little satin bag and took out a piece of paper. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve made some notes,” she said. “My friend was very hard hit by +Stuart’s death, and it is this Stuart.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry whistled. +</p> + +<p> +“How did it happen?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“My friend is an underwriter. He’s in the insurance business,” she +explained. “When a man has his life insured for a very large sum, as +you probably know, the company that issues the policy does not retain +all the risk. It sends round to other offices and to various +underwriters offering each underwriter some of the responsibility. It +appears that my friend, the underwriter, underwrote three thousand +pounds’ worth of the reinsurance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Three thousand pounds’ worth?” said Larry in astonishment. “Then, in +the name of Heaven, for how much was Stuart insured?” +</p> + +<p> +“I asked that,” she nodded, and lifted her paper. “On the policy which +was endorsed by Mr. Gray the sum of £50,000 was mentioned, but Mr. +Gray says that there was another policy for a similar amount.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry sat down, his eyes gleaming. +</p> + +<p> +“So that was the business end of Stuart’s death, was it? Insured for +£100,000! Did your friend pay?” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally he paid,” said the girl, “the moment the company which had +accepted the insurance had sent in its claim. He had nothing else to +do but to find the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the name of the company?” +</p> + +<p> +She paused and looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“The Greenwich Insurance Company,” she replied slowly, and he jumped +to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Judd,” he said softly. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch18"> +CHAPTER XVIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">AT THE PAWNBROKER’S</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">He escorted</span> the girl downstairs, and they stood talking in the hall. +There was a car at the door, a luxury which she easily explained. +</p> + +<p> +She was using the Grays’ car, which was to go back and pick up the +underwriter and his wife at two o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +“I hate declining your invitation,” said Larry, “but I am hanging on +to the end of a wire. I sent Harvey on a tour of investigation to-day, +and he promised to ’phone me round about midnight.” +</p> + +<p> +She was looking at him in some concern. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you rather overdoing it?” she said. “You don’t get any sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I am one of those fortunate people who can do without sleep,” he said +boastfully, and then an official came out of one of the ground-floor +rooms. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a call through for you, sir,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along,” said Larry. “I may get this business off and then I +shall be able to revel in that millionaire feeling.” +</p> + +<p> +He went back to his room and the girl followed. It was not Sergeant +Harvey who had called him, but the inspector in charge of the Oxford +Lane police station. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that Inspector Holt?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s me,” said Larry ungrammatically. +</p> + +<p> +“You circulated a description of a sleeve-link of black enamel and +diamonds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Larry quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the man, “Mr. Emden, of Emden and Smith, pawnbrokers, +brought a pair of links exactly tallying with the description +published in the <i>Hue and Cry</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got them there?” asked Larry eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said the inspector. “But Mr. Emden is here, if you would +like to interview him. He can get the links in the morning. He +happened to be reading the <i>Hue and Cry</i> to-night after dinner and he +came upon the description, and immediately walked over to the station. +He lives close by.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come down,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked the girl. “Have they found the links?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“They’ve found a pair of links exactly like the one which was found in +Gordon Stuart’s hand,” he said, a little puzzled. “I can’t understand +that. If it had been half a link, or a link and a half, that would +have been clearly a clue.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked dubiously at the switchboard and the operator. +</p> + +<p> +“If Sergeant Harvey comes through,” he said, “tell him to ring me +again, or if he is in reach of the office to come back and wait for +me. I am going to the Oxford Lane police station. Incidentally,” he +said to the girl as they came out, “I will accept a lift in your +palatial conveyance.” +</p> + +<p> +He dropped her at her flat. There was a lounger outside who saluted +Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not putting a guard on me?” said the girl in surprise. “I +think that’s unnecessary, Mr. Holt.” +</p> + +<p> +“My own experience tells me that it is very necessary,” said Larry +grimly. “The gentleman who tossed me about as though I were a feather +is not wanting in courage. There is no other way into the house except +by this front door, is there?” he asked the detective on duty. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, I have had a good look round, and I’ve also been into the +lady’s rooms.” +</p> + +<p> +She gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“How?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I had a duplicate key made from yours,” said Larry. “I hope you don’t +mind. And talking of keys,” he added, “the appearance of Blind Jake in +Fanny Weldon’s room is now no mystery at all. She had given him a key +of the house in case she missed him with the swag on Saturday night. +He was to come up and take it from her. She was in such terror of him +that she did not dare refuse the key, but she must have forgotten she +had loaned it, for she would never have slept.” +</p> + +<p> +He said good-night to her and went on to Oxford Lane on foot. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Emden proved to be a mild little man in pince-nez. +</p> + +<p> +“I happened to be running through the list of properties stolen,” he +said, “and I came upon this description of yours, Mr. Holt.” +</p> + +<p> +He showed a fold of the paper on which a drawing of the link, whose +fellow was sought, appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“You say you have a pair?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said the man. “It was pledged with me this morning. As a +matter of fact, it happened to be me who took the pledge. I don’t as a +rule work behind the counter, but one of my clerks had gone on a +message, and when the man came in I took the links and gave the +pledger £4 for them.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are not of a usual pattern, are they?” asked Larry, and Mr. +Emden shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“They are very unusual,” he said. “I don’t remember having seen a pair +exactly like those before. I think they must be of a French make. They +were slightly damaged. Three of the diamonds on the rim were missing +or I should have given him a great deal more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know the man who pledged them?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir. He was a smart-looking fellow who told me he’d got tired of +them. My impression was——” He hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I thought, in spite of his good appearance, that he looked like +one of these smart thieves that abound in the West End, and I had an +idea that he was pledging them, not so much because he wanted the +money, but because he wanted to put them in a safe place. A thief will +often do that and take the chance of the pawnbroker discovering that +the property is missing or wanted by the police.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Smartly dressed,” he said thoughtfully, and then quickly: “Did he +wear any diamonds?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said the pawnbroker, “that is why I thought he was +planting the stuff. Four pounds isn’t much to advance on property of +that value, but he didn’t make any fuss.” +</p> + +<p> +“What name?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“He gave the name of Mr. Frederick, and I think an accommodation +address.” +</p> + +<p> +“Flash Fred!” said Larry. “Is Jermyn Street in your district?” he +asked the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Send a couple of men out and pull in Flash Fred. Bring him here +first, and afterwards, if it is necessary, I’ll take him to Cannon +Row.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it an arrest?” asked the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“A detention merely. He may be able to explain, but I think he’ll have +to be clever if he gets out of this. Now, Mr. Emden,” he said, turning +to the pawnbroker, “I’m afraid I can’t wait until the morning and I +must ask you to accompany me to your shop and let me have the actual +links.” +</p> + +<p> +“With pleasure, sir,” said the pawnbroker. “I expected something like +that and I brought my keys over. My shop is only about five minutes’ +walk away.” +</p> + +<p> +Accompanied by a plain-clothes officer they went to the shop and Mr. +Emden fitted the key in the side door, but as he pressed the key into +the keyhole the door gave. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, the door’s open,” he said in surprise, and went quickly down the +side passage. He tried another door, but there was no need even to go +through the formality of putting a key in the lock. The door was ajar +and Larry’s pocket lamp revealed the mark of the jemmy that had opened +it. The pawnbroker hurried into his main premises and switched on the +light. +</p> + +<p> +A book lay on the counter, open at the page of that day’s +transactions. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you put these links?” asked Larry quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“In the safe, in my private office,” said the man. “Look,” he returned +to the book, “there is the number.” +</p> + +<p> +“Also the word ‘safe,’ ” said Larry, “and somehow I don’t think you’ll +see your safe intact.” +</p> + +<p> +And his words proved prophetic. The big “burglar-proof” safe presented +a somewhat untidy appearance, for a hole had been burnt in the steel +and the lock had disappeared. Articles of value there were none. Every +package had been cleared out. +</p> + +<p> +“I think they have got those links,” said Larry grimly. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch19"> +CHAPTER XIX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">IN FLASH FRED’S FLAT</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">After</span> the discovery in the pawnbroker’s shop Larry went back to the +police station to make yet another discovery. Flash Fred was not in +his lodgings. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would come down and see his flat, sir,” said the officer +who had gone to make the arrest. “I think that something queer has +happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“If there has been anything in this case which has not been queer,” +said Larry with asperity, “I should like to hear about it!” +</p> + +<p> +Flash Fred lived in Modley House, Jermyn Street, a block of service +flats, and the porter had a strange story to tell. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Grogan came in at about eleven o’clock to-night,” he said, “and +went up to his flat. I took him a syphon of soda he ordered, and said +good-night to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Afterwards I went round seeing that the service doors were shut and +that the lights had been out in the kitchen, then came to my +cubby-hole to have my supper and read the evening newspaper.” +</p> + +<p> +The “cubby-hole” was a space under the stairway which had been +converted into a little office where the tenants left their keys. +</p> + +<p> +“At about half-past twelve I thought I heard a sound like a shot and a +man’s voice shout something and I came out into the passage and +listened. There was still a sort of disturbance going on, so I went up +to the second floor where the sound came from and listened again. +There was a light in Mr. Grogan’s flat. I could see that through the +transom. It was the only light visible. I knocked at the door and +after a while Mr. Grogan came to the door, and I tell you he was a +most terrifying sight. He had a big knife in his hand and his clothes +were smothered with blood. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Oh, it’s you, is it?’ he said. ‘Come in.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I went into the sitting room and a pretty sight it was! Chairs thrown +over, the table upside down, and glasses and bottles scattered over +the floor. Outside Mr. Grogan’s window are the stairs of the fire +escape, and the window was open. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘What’s wrong, sir?’ I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Nothing particular,’ he said, ‘only a burglar broke in. That’s all. +Give me a whisky-and-soda.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He was trembling from head to foot and was very excited. He kept +muttering to himself, but I didn’t hear what he said. When I came back +with the whisky-and-soda he had cleaned the knife and was more calm. I +found him standing at the open window, looking down into the yard, +where the fire escape leads, and then I noticed that one of the +pictures hanging on the wall was smashed by a bullet. I knew it was a +bullet because I was in the Metropolitan Police for some years, and +I’ve seen a similar mark. I told him there would be serious trouble +over this disturbance because the other tenants would complain, but he +asked me not to worry about that, and gave me £50 to pay his rent and +any expenses that we had been put to, and asked me to keep the flat +until he returned. He said he was going abroad.” +</p> + +<p> +“What happened then?” asked Larry when the man paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, he came out with a bag, got into a cab and drove off, and +that’s the last I saw of him.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry made an examination of the room and he found that the porter’s +description had been a faithful one. The room was illuminated by a +cluster of three lights hanging from the ceiling and covered by a +shade. One of the globes was smashed, and Larry drew the attention of +the porter to this. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, these lights work on two circuits: one switch turns on one +and the other switch turns on two. As a rule Mr. Grogan only has the +single light on.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I pretty well know what happened,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He could picture the scene in the room: the intruder coming through +the window, Flash Fred covering him with his revolver, and the big man +advancing with upraised hands until he could reach the globe and crush +it in his powerful paw. And then Fred had fired and the man was on +him, but Fred was too slippery. Fred had been cleverer than he. These +continental crooks who take enormous risks do not depend so much upon +their guns as upon their knives, and to Blind Jake’s surprise—for +Blind Jake it must have been—Grogan had met the onrush and the +suffocating hug of this animal-man with a steel blade, and, releasing +his hold, Blind Jake must have made his escape through the open +window. But where was Fred? In that moment Larry felt an unexpected +wave of sympathy for the crook. He, too, then, had stumbled by +accident or design upon the murderer of Gordon Stuart. +</p> + +<p> +What was that clue? He must find Flash Fred, and find him at once, for +this thief might have in his hands a solution to the mystery. +</p> + +<p> +He went home, ’phoned to headquarters, and discovered that Harvey had +made a negative report, took a bath, and went to bed. He slept for +four hours; and then by his instructions Sunny, who seemed equally +able to dispense with the recuperation of sleep, brought him his tea +and toast. +</p> + +<p> +“What time is it?” asked Larry, blinking himself awake. +</p> + +<p> +“Nine o’clock, sir,” said Sunny. “The postman has come and the papers +have been.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bring me my letters,” said Larry, jumping out of bed. +</p> + +<p> +He looked them through as he sipped his tea. +</p> + +<p> +One had come, evidently delivered by hand, for there was no stamp upon +the envelope. +</p> + +<p> +“When did this arrive?” he asked the valet when Sunny returned to the +room. +</p> + +<p> +“It was in the box when I got up, sir,” said Sunny. “I think it must +have come by hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a fool, Sunny,” snapped Larry. “Of course it came by hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you agree with me, sir,” said the imperturbable Sunny. +</p> + +<p> +Larry ripped open the envelope and took out a sheet of paper. It began +without any polite preliminary: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +You had better interest yourself in another case, Mr. Holt. You will +get into serious trouble if you do not heed this warning. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Larry, and rang the bell. +</p> + +<p> +“Sunny,” he said, “bring me my coat and the papers that are in the +inside pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry searched for and found the letter which Flash Fred had received +inviting him to call at Todd’s Home at six o’clock in the morning and +to avoid attracting attention. +</p> + +<p> +He put the letter of warning by its side and compared them. They were +in the same handwriting! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch20"> +CHAPTER XX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE WOMAN WHO DREW THE<br> +INSURANCE MONEY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Diana Ward</span>, I’m a greatly rattled man,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +The girl stopped working, her fingers poised above the keys of her +typewriter; then she swung round in her chair. +</p> + +<p> +“The case is growing a little clearer to me,” she said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to heaven it would grow clearer to me,” grumbled Larry. “Here +is the situation. Let me recapitulate.” He ticked off the points on +the fingers of one hand as he leant back in his chair. “A rich +Canadian, who comes to London apparently to visit the grave of his +deserted wife and child, is murdered after seeing a play at the +Macready Theatre. The author of that play is John Dearborn, who +admittedly writes the worst trash that has ever been seen on the +stage. But that doesn’t make him a murderer. And, moreover, he is a +respectable clergyman engaged in a great humanitarian work amongst the +blind. The murdered Stuart leaves, written on the inside of his +shirt-front, a will leaving the whole of his property to a daughter, +who apparently has no existence, so far as we can discover. Certain +clues are found, one a piece of Braille writing, another a black +enamel and diamond sleeve-link which is found in the dead man’s hand. +The Braille writing is stolen from Scotland Yard; the sleeve-links, +when they fall into the possession of Flash Fred and are pawned by him +for security, are regarded by some person or persons unknown as being +of such importance that a burglary is committed at the pawnbroker’s +shop in which they are pledged, with no other object, I should +imagine, than to recover those links. Moreover, the agent of the enemy +proceeds first to attempt your abduction, then the murder of Fanny +Weldon, who committed the burglary at Scotland Yard, which is +understandable, and then the destruction of Flash Fred, which is also +within my understanding. As a matter of fact, the only inexplicable +point in the whole case,” he said with a smile, “is their attempt to +<i>strafe</i> you.” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“That is a mystery to me, too,” she confessed. +</p> + +<p> +“We have now discovered,” said Larry, ticking off the point on another +finger, “that Stuart was heavily insured, at the office of Dr. Judd, +of the Greenwich Insurance Company. Dr. Judd makes no secret of the +fact that this insurance was effected.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen Dr. Judd?” she asked in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I have telephoned to him,” he said, “and I am seeing him this +morning. Perhaps you will come along with me—we can postpone our +visit to the Home until this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +He saw her face brighten up. +</p> + +<p> +“You like to be in this game, don’t you?” he bantered her. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it’s wonderfully fascinating,” she replied, “and I like to be +close to things. I had a feeling yesterday that you thought I wasn’t +keen.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry blushed guiltily. +</p> + +<p> +“It was only for a second,” he admitted, “and it was very unworthy, +and after all, why should you elect to work all the hours that Heaven +sends?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I want to see the murderer of Gordon Stuart brought to +justice,” she answered steadily, and Larry experienced a little +thrill. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd expected one visitor, and was to all appearances surprised +agreeably when Larry’s companion came into the big managing director’s +office on Bloomsbury Pavement. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Dr. Judd. My secretary, Miss Ward,” introduced Larry. “Miss +Ward has a very excellent memory, and it may be necessary for me to +have a shorthand note of our talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should prefer that,” said Dr. Judd. Yet he seemed ill at ease at +the presence of the girl. If Larry noticed this fact, it did not alter +his plans. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad you have come,” said Dr. Judd slowly. “I wanted to talk to +you about the man with whom you saw me the first time we met. I am +afraid that you received an altogether wrong impression, though as to +this I cannot blame you, for the man is a disreputable scoundrel. Have +you seen him lately?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have neither seen nor heard of him for weeks,” said Larry +untruthfully, and the girl found that she had to exercise all her +self-control to prevent her looking up in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the doctor, “we can talk about that at some other time. +Do you mind my smoking, Miss Ward?” She shook her head with a smile. +“I am an inveterate smoker of cigarettes,” said the doctor. “I have +smoked a hundred a day for twenty-five years, and my robust health +gives the lie to all the anti-tobacconists!” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed, and he had a very hearty and pleasant laugh. It was a +gurgle of genuine merriment, which was so infectious that Diana found +herself smiling in sympathy. The doctor lit a cigarette, then took a +folder from his desk and opened it. +</p> + +<p> +“Here are the policies,” he said. “You will notice that they are made +payable to a nominee who shall be afterwards named. That authorization +came to us on the day of Stuart’s death. I will show it to you +presently. The matter was not brought to my attention until yesterday +morning, when my clerk reminded me that we had issued these policies. +Simultaneously we received a demand for the money, accompanied by a +certificate of death—or, rather, a copy of the certificate issued by +the coroner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which can be obtained for about five shillings,” said Larry, and Dr. +Judd inclined his head. +</p> + +<p> +“It was sufficient,” he said quietly, “and at any rate, when the +legatees called, there was no reason in the world why I should not pay +the money, and that payment was made.” +</p> + +<p> +“How was it paid? By cash or cheque?” +</p> + +<p> +“By open cheque, at the lady’s request.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the lady’s?” said Larry and Diana together, for she had been +surprised into this ejaculation. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd looked at her with a little smile and rubbed his hands +gleefully. +</p> + +<p> +“I like a secretary who takes a keen interest in affairs,” he +chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +“But who was the lady?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor took two slips of paper from the folder and laid one before +the detective. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the receipt,” he said. “You see it is for one hundred +thousand pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry took up the paper and examined it. It was signed “<i>Clarissa +Stuart!</i>” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch21"> +CHAPTER XXI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">WHEN DIANA FAINTED</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Larry</span> could not believe his eyes. He handed the slip to the girl, +but she had already seen the signature over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Clarissa Stuart?” he said slowly. “Do you know her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never heard of her before,” said the doctor cheerfully. “But she was +the person nominated to receive the proceeds of the policy.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is she like?” asked Larry after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd was lighting a fresh cigarette from the glowing end of +another, and he threw the butt into the fireplace before he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Young, pretty, fashionably dressed,” he said briefly. +</p> + +<p> +“Did she seem—distressed at all?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” said the doctor. “On the contrary, she was rather +amusing.” +</p> + +<p> +They looked at one another, Diana Ward and Larry Holt, and there was +blank astonishment in each pair of eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Did this lady give any address?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it was not necessary,” said the doctor. “I told you I gave her an +open cheque. Well, she seemed a little perturbed at first. She did not +want a cheque; so I sent my clerk to the bank to draw the money, and +when he brought it back I delivered it to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it was in cash?” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Literally it was in cash I paid her,” said Dr. Judd. +</p> + +<p> +“You have never seen her before?” persisted Larry. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“She came from nowhere so far as I am concerned,” he said. “She was +undoubtedly the daughter of Mr. Stuart, or at least, she told me so, +and I have no reason to disbelieve her word.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry and the girl were out in the street again before he spoke to the +girl. +</p> + +<p> +“It is amazing,” he said. His cab was waiting and he ushered the girl +in. “No. 304 Nottingham Place,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we going?” asked the girl in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re going to the lodgings that Stuart had,” replied Larry. “I left +the investigation at that point to Sergeant Harvey, and he is a +particularly thorough man, but may have missed something. Surely, if +Gordon Stuart learnt on the day of his death that he had another +daughter, he must have had some visitor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think the girl saw him?” asked Diana quickly. “Clarissa, I +mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is possible,” replied Larry, “but that is to be discovered.” +</p> + +<p> +No. 304 Nottingham Place was a big and sedate-looking mansion, of the +type which is patronized by American visitors of the better class, and +Larry and his companion were shown into a comfortable drawing room. A +few minutes after, a little lady with white hair came in. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Portland, isn’t it?” said Larry. “My name is Holt. I am from +Scotland Yard.” +</p> + +<p> +A look of dismay came to the lady’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear,” she said, evidently distressed. “I did hope that the +police had finished with me. It gets this house such a bad name, and +I’ve already suffered in consequence. The poor gentleman committed +suicide, didn’t he? Why he should I don’t know,” she said, shaking her +head. “I have never seen him so cheerful as he was the night just +before he went to the theatre. As a rule he was so glum and sad that +it depressed me to see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cheerful before he went to the theatre?” said Larry quickly. +“Unusually so?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Had he any visitors in the afternoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“None, sir,” replied the lady, and Larry’s face dropped. “None at all. +I told your detective officer who called that he never received +visitors. He had been out in the afternoon, and I must confess that he +came back a little before we expected him. We had a charwoman in, and +she was making his room tidy, and the first I knew about his room was +when I passed his door and I heard him having a long conversation with +somebody. It was so unusual that I spoke to my head waitress about +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was the somebody?” asked Larry, and the landlady smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“It was the charwoman,” she said. “A woman I used to get in to do odd +jobs. I thought it was extraordinary, because he never spoke to +anybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long was the woman with him?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly an hour,” was the surprising reply. +</p> + +<p> +“An hour?” said Larry. “He was talking with a charwoman for an hour? +What did he talk about?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I remember it well, because the charwoman left without +drawing her wages. In fact, she must have gone straight out after +leaving Mr. Stuart’s room—and she never came back.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“That is important,” he said. “Did you tell Sergeant Harvey?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said the lady in surprise. “I didn’t think it was worth +while reporting a little domestic incident like that. He asked me if +Mr. Stuart had had any visitors, and I replied truthfully that he had +not.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was the woman’s name?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said the landlady. “We used to call her Emma. I am +surprised she didn’t come back; because she left her wedding ring +here. She used to take it off before she started scrubbing. It is a +peculiar ring for a woman of her position—half platinum and half +gold, and—— Catch that young lady, sir,” she said suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +Larry turned quickly and caught the girl as she fainted. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch22"> +CHAPTER XXII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE MAN WHO WAS DEAF</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">He carried</span> her to a sofa and laid her down, and presently she opened +her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I am an awful idiot,” she said, trying to rise, but he laid his hand +on her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“You must lie there a little while. What is the trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +“The room is a little close, I think,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +The room was stuffy: Larry had noticed it when he came in, and as the +landlady pulled up the window, she apologized. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m always telling the servants to keep this room aired, and they +never do,” she said. “It’s like a furnace. I am very sorry.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry had seen many fainting women, but never before had such a +phenomenon occasioned him so much alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t remember doing such a stupid thing before,” said the girl at +last, sitting up. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better go home,” said Larry solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +She was still very white, but the cup of tea which the landlady +brought in revived her. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not going home,” she said firmly. “I am going with you to Todd’s. +You promised me I should, and as soon as I get into the air I shall be +all right. If you were to take me a drive around Regent’s Park—it’s +quite near—I should be as well as ever.” +</p> + +<p> +They made the slow round of the outer circle and the colour came back +to her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Was it this morning you told me I was overdoing it?” smiled Larry. +“My young friend, you are in danger of a breakdown.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be very hurt if you insist upon that. I am not so stupid that +I would go on if I wasn’t fit,” she said. “That undignified collapse +into your arms will not occur again. Besides,” she said mischievously, +“if I am liable to having a fit on the mat, don’t you think it would +be better if you were with me than if I were by myself in my room?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s something in that,” said Larry. “But I’m not so sure that +visiting Todd’s is the best way of spending an afternoon. It’s very +smelly, and the sights are not quite pleasant.” +</p> + +<p> +“They will not worry me,” she answered quietly. “Please, please let me +go!” +</p> + +<p> +He reached over and took her hand and she did not resist this +attention. +</p> + +<p> +“You can go just where you like, Diana,” he said, “and—and—as far as +you like!” +</p> + +<p> +By now his own flustered feelings had calmed, and he remembered that +he had not asked to see the novel wedding ring of Emma, the charwoman. +Nor had he made the inquiries which he would have made but for the +dramatic interruption of Diana’s collapse. +</p> + +<p> +He drove the girl back to Piccadilly, and they lunched together, and +then they went on to Scotland Yard. In the restaurant he had +telephoned to Harvey, and Harvey had renewed the distress of Mrs. +Portland by another visit. He was waiting for Larry at the Yard in +Room 47 when they returned. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve traced Emma,” he said, and his tone was so serious that Larry +knew that he was not wrong in giving importance to the interview which +the charwoman had with Stuart. “She lives, or lived, in Camden Town,” +said Harvey. “She lodges with an Army pensioner and his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, have you seen her?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, I haven’t seen her. She’s no longer there,” said Harvey. +“She has not been home since the night following the Stuart murder.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry made a little grimace. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the real end and the real clue of this crime,” he said. “Emma +the charwoman is going to supply us with a considerable amount of +information. Did she take away her things from her lodgings?” he +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” replied Harvey. “That is the curious circumstance. The +woman neither told her friends that she was leaving, nor did she take +any of her clothing or her belongings with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Put her on the list,” said Larry, “and warn all stations. No news of +Blind Jake?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor Fred?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“To the already overburdened vigilance of the Metropolitan +Constabulary—poor chaps,” said Larry with a smile, “we will add the +name of Miss Clarissa Stuart. Young, pretty, and smartly dressed, +probably staying in a good-class hotel. Put a comb through those +places where a woman of wealth is likely to be, and report.” +</p> + +<p> +Harvey lifted his hat and went out, and Larry walked slowly to his +desk and stood for a while looking down at it disapprovingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know why I am given a table in this office,” he said. “I +never sit at it.” Nevertheless, he dropped down in his chair and +glanced across at the girl. “Well, Miss Ward,” he said, “you have a +further mystery to add to the others. Emma has disappeared as +unexpectedly as Flash Fred or as Stuart, and the man who persuaded +Emma to go was the man who nearly persuaded Mrs. Weldon to depart this +life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Blind Jake?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the lad,” he replied. “A terrible figure. I can’t think of +him without a shudder.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a confession for a detective to make!” she scoffed. “Of course +you can think of him—he’s human!” +</p> + +<p> +“And a very sore human, too,” smiled Larry. “For Flash Fred was fairly +useful with a knife in the days when I was trailing him for carving up +Leroux, a rival of his.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think they have caught him?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Fred has gone to earth. He’s gone because he’s afraid they’ll +catch him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then he is not in with them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fred?” He laughed. “Not Fred. Fred’s a lone wolf and plays a lone +hand. He preys upon the virtuous and the wicked alike. One of his many +boasts is that he has never been a member of a gang, and I dare say +that is why he has so far escaped, or partially escaped, the +consequence of his rascality. He is in London,” he mused, “and I have +an idea we shall see him again very soon.” +</p> + +<p> +How soon he could not guess. +</p> + +<p> +He worked for an hour, and seemed oblivious both of Diana’s presence +and the looks she shot across at him—glances which were intended to +remind him that he was taking her to Todd’s. +</p> + +<p> +He covered sheet after sheet of paper, for it was his practice to +write down his cases in narrative form; dovetailing the cause to the +effect. They were curious-looking documents, these “statements” of +his, abounding in marginal notes and interlinear corrections. +Presently he finished writing, dropping the last sheet and slipping +the paper into a drawer. Then he got up and stretched himself. He +walked to the window and looked out. It was late afternoon and he +could glimpse a wonderful picture of the Thames Embankment, a vista of +blue bridges spanning a leaden stream, of dim spires looming through +the eastern haze, of a long line of green where the trees shaded the +broad sidewalk, of chocolate-coloured tram-cars that flashed to and +fro—a fragment of London, recognizable even to those who had never +seen the great city, or throbbed to its ceaseless pulsations. +</p> + +<p> +Larry Holt scratched his nose unromantically and turned a dubious look +to the waiting girl. +</p> + +<p> +“If you still want to go to Todd’s, I’ll take you,” he said. “This is +the hour I’d promised myself the pleasure of a visit.” +</p> + +<p> +A car took them to the end of Lissom Grove, and they walked down +Lissom Lane, which was a cul-de-sac opening from the bigger +thoroughfare. Two plain-clothes police officers, who were waiting, +joined them, and the party stepped to the side of the street opposite +that on which the Home was situated. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the place next door?” asked Larry, nodding at a black-looking +house with shuttered windows. +</p> + +<p> +“It used to be a laundry,” said the policeman. “There’s a yard and a +shed at the back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Laundry?” said the girl thoughtfully. “Do you remember that it was a +laundry van that was outside my flat that night they tried to carry me +off?” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jimmy!” said Larry. “So it was!” +</p> + +<p> +“It couldn’t have been this laundry, miss,” said the policeman. “It +has not been doing business for twelve months. They went bankrupt, and +somebody bought up the business but doesn’t seem to have made a start +yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Those gates lead to the yard, I presume?” said Larry, pointing. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. I haven’t seen a motor-van come out of there, and I don’t +even know that they have one,” said the policeman. “But nowadays, when +there are so many motor vehicles about, it is impossible to keep track +of them.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry went up the steps and knocked at the door, and the same little +old man opened. +</p> + +<p> +“Four people!” he yelled. “All strangers! What do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see Mr. Dearborn,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, sir, you are the gentleman that came on Sunday morning at +six <span class="sc">a.m.</span>,” said the little man, and went pattering down the long +passage. “Come this way!” he bawled. “All of you. Four of them, sir!” +</p> + +<p> +The Rev. John Dearborn came out of his study to meet the party, and +ushered them in. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Holt? I think I recognized your voice,” he said. His little +dictating machine was spinning, and there was a thick pad of typed +manuscript on his table. He put his hand lovingly upon it as he passed +to his chair. “I have a gentleman who comes in to read for me in the +evening,” he said, as though guessing Larry’s thoughts. “Now what is +the object of to-night’s visit?” he asked. “Have you found your Blind +Jake?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have met him without finding him,” replied Larry grimly. “I merely +want to see over the house. I have brought a lady with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“How interesting!” said the Rev. John Dearborn, rising. +</p> + +<p> +The girl held out her hand instinctively, and the man took it. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be most happy to show you round. You have some other +friends?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry introduced them, and together they went up the stairs, John +Dearborn leading the way. +</p> + +<p> +“We will start at the top of the house this time,” he said humorously. +“Our friend Lew is still in his cubicle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you afraid to keep a man here who is not quite right in his +head?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is very weak,” said John Dearborn, “and I haven’t the heart to +send him to the infirmary. I fear that I must do so sooner or later.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry had the girl by his side on the landing, and lowering his voice +he asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want to see this old man? He is rather——” He did not finish +his sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see him—yes,” she said. “You forget that I was nurse in an +institute for the blind.” +</p> + +<p> +Dearborn led the way to the cubicle. No lights shone, though there +were electric globes on every landing. The blind needed no lights, +thought Larry. +</p> + +<p> +The old man in the cubicle lay quietly on his back, his hands folded +patiently. He was no longer talking and was, indeed, much calmer than +when Larry had seen him last. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you to-day?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +The man made no reply. It was the girl who laid her hand upon his +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you feeling better?” she asked, and the man started round. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s that? Is that you, Jim?” he asked. “Have you got any supper?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you feeling better?” said Diana. +</p> + +<p> +“And bring me a mug of tea, will you?” said Lew, and lay over on his +back and resumed the same attitude of resignation in which they had +found him. +</p> + +<p> +The girl stooped and looked closely at the old man; and, sensing her +presence, he put up his hand and touched her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that a lady?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +And then Dearborn pressed past them and caught the man’s hand in his. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you better to-day, Lew?” he said, and the man winked. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, sir,” he replied. “I’m feeling fine, thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +Diana Ward walked out of the cubicle, her eyes fixed absently on +space, and Larry joined her. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That man is dead,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Dead?” he repeated in amazement. “Of course he’s not dead.” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Diana, I don’t understand you,” said Larry. He thought for a moment +that her fainting fit had affected her mind and that she was talking +light-headedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Dead,” she repeated, and her voice had a passionate thrill which made +him gasp. “As effectively dead as if he were lying cold and lifeless +on that bed. Oh, it’s cruel, cruel!” +</p> + +<p> +John Dearborn and the detectives were still in the cubicle discussing +the invalid. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, Diana?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you see? I’ve seen it happen once before,” she said in a low +voice that shook. “There were little black marks on the man’s ear. +Those are powder marks. He has been deafened.” +</p> + +<p> +“Deafened?” he whispered, still not grasping the significance of the +revelation. +</p> + +<p> +“You told me something of what this man said when you saw him on +Sunday,” she said, speaking rapidly and almost in a whisper, “and now +I see what has happened. This man has had a shotgun discharged near +both ears, and he is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you realize,” she asked, and she spoke slowly now, “what it means +to be blind and deaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” he gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“That is what has happened to the man they call Lew. Some persons, who +for their own purpose desire to spare his life, have made him +incapable of testifying against them.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean,” she said, “that he is the man who wrote the Braille message +found in Gordon Stuart’s pocket.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch23"> +CHAPTER XXIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE DISAPPEARANCE OF DIANA WARD</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Was</span> it guesswork? Was it sheer deduction? Was it knowledge? These +three questions flashed through Larry’s mind, but before he could ask +her any further questions, John Dearborn had come from the cubicle and +was feeling his way down the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +On the next landing he opened the door of a dormitory which Larry had +seen before. It consisted of three rooms which had been knocked into +one at some previous period. +</p> + +<p> +Obedient to Larry’s instructions, the two detectives did not follow +the party in. One strolled down and took his place on the lower +landing; the other sat upon the stairs that led to the cubicles above +and waited. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it light?” asked Dearborn as he walked into the inner room. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite light,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“I am told there is rather a good view from this window,” said +Dearborn, and pointed unerringly to a view which was neither +picturesque nor extensive. +</p> + +<p> +Larry did not reply. It was possibly a polite fiction that the views +from the Home were lovely, and he did not desire to hurt, even in the +slightest degree, the man who was so proud of a prospect which +included six roofs and a hundred chimney pots. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the window closed? I think it is,” said John Dearborn. “Will you +open it for me?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry pulled up the noisy sash, and a breath of cool, sweet air came +into the stuffy dormitory. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Mr. Dearborn. “Now, perhaps the young lady——” +</p> + +<p> +Larry was looking about the room. The girl was not in sight. He walked +quickly to the door and the officer on duty stood up from the stairs +on which he had been sitting. +</p> + +<p> +“Which way did Miss Ward go?” +</p> + +<p> +“She didn’t come out, sir,” said the man in surprise. “She went in the +room with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t come out?” he repeated in amazement. “Are you sure?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely sure.” +</p> + +<p> +He called to the man on the lower landing: +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see Miss Ward?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said the officer, “she hasn’t come out of that door. I can +see it plainly from here, and I haven’t taken my eyes off it.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry went back into the room. It was empty. There were half a dozen +plain iron beds, but there was no place of concealment save a cupboard +which stood against the wall opposite the fireplace. He was in a +panic, and his heart was beating wildly as no danger to himself could +have made it beat. +</p> + +<p> +He pulled open the cupboard door. It was empty except for some old +clothing which was hanging on a line of pegs. He flung these out and +struck the back of the cupboard. It was solid. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you found the young lady?” asked Dearborn presently. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have not,” said Larry quickly. “Is there any other way out of +this room but these doors?” +</p> + +<p> +The clergyman shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said in astonishment. “Why do you ask? Oh, perhaps you are +thinking we should have a means of egress in case of fire. We have +been thinking over that matter——” +</p> + +<p> +Larry was white of face, and he was trembling. He called in one of the +police officers. +</p> + +<p> +“You will remain in this room until you are relieved,” he said. Then +he summoned the other. “Call Scotland Yard in my name and tell them I +want twenty plain-clothes men here at once. There’s a constable on +point duty at the end of Lissom Grove. Bring him here and station him +outside the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“What has happened?” demanded the Rev. Dearborn anxiously. “These are +the only times when my malady distresses me, when I feel that I cannot +help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it would be better if you went to your study,” said Larry +gently. “I am afraid a crime has been committed under my very eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +How could it have happened? He had heard no sound. He thought the girl +was behind him. He knew she had gone into the room because he had +pushed her in before him; he remembered that distinctly. He remembered +her turning to the left to inspect the lower end of the room when he +had gone to open the window—that was when it happened! +</p> + +<p> +When he had pulled up the window he had made a noise which had drowned +any sound which may have occurred at the farther end of the room. But +it had all passed so quickly, and she had not left the room. +</p> + +<p> +He began a systematic examination of the walls, looking for secret +doorways. The coconut matting on the floor was pulled up, but without +result. Diana Ward had disappeared as though an earthquake had +swallowed her, as though she had dissolved into minutest atoms and had +floated out of the window in invisible vapour. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch24"> +CHAPTER XXIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE LAUNDRY YARD</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Larry</span> paced the dormitory, sick with fear, terrified as he had never +been before. He had searched the house from roof to cellar, had +explored dusty and dark corners of which the occupants of Todd’s Home +were unacquainted; but searchings and questionings produced +nothing—nothing! +</p> + +<p> +Within half an hour a cordon of plain-clothes men had been drawn round +the house, and Larry had been relieved from the dormitory and set free +to conduct his search elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no communication between this house and the next?” he had +asked the clergyman. +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever,” said John Dearborn without hesitation. “In fact, some +years ago the noise from the laundry was so great and disturbing to my +men that I compelled the proprietors of the building to put up a new +wall, a sort of inner lining, to deaden the sound. It is no longer in +the occupation of the company,” he said. “They went bankrupt, and the +premises were taken over by a firm of provision merchants. I +understand that they intended storing their goods in the laundry +building.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the small building one can see over the gates at the end of +the yard?” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“That is so,” replied the superintendent. +</p> + +<p> +Larry went up to the door of the empty house and examined it +carefully; and a sergeant from Scotland Yard made a close inspection. +</p> + +<p> +“I can tell you this, sir, that nobody has been in or out of this door +for a very long time,” he said. Over the railings which enclosed a +narrow area they could see through the dusty windows into a room which +was the quintessence of dinginess. It was quite bare and innocent of +furniture. Larry felt his heart sinking with every minute that passed. +If he should lose her, if he should lose her! +</p> + +<p> +Only then did he realize what this girl meant to him. She was a friend +of less than a week, and yet all other matters and interests—friends, +profession, success—none of these meant anything to him compared with +that one slim girl. He would willingly have sacrificed every prospect +he had in life to hold her hand once more, or to exchange with her a +dozen words. In the power of Blind Jake! He reeled under the thought. +It was maddening—grotesquely horrible! +</p> + +<p> +He pulled himself together with a jerk. He would go mad if he allowed +his mind to dwell upon that hideous possibility. +</p> + +<p> +He had no time to think upon the Stuart case or its bearing on this +disappearance. All his energy and agony of endeavour were concentrated +upon one object, one discovery—Diana Ward. +</p> + +<p> +He climbed over the wooden gates and explored the yard of the laundry; +and here he found something which set his eyes on the trail again. +There were wheel tracks, and they were comparatively new. The tracks +of a motor-car, possibly two cars. He looked round the littered yard +for a garage, and saw a black-looking door which had the appearance of +closing some such building. +</p> + +<p> +Sergeant Harvey, who had followed him over the gate, tried a pick-lock +on the door, and after two attempts succeeded in forcing back the bolt +of the lock. The doors were fixed on slides, and they went back easily +and noiselessly, almost at a touch. +</p> + +<p> +“They have been used recently,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +There were two cars in the garage—a long-bonneted limousine and a +small motor-van. Larry walked in, and there was light enough to see, +for the day had not yet failed. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” cried Larry suddenly, pointing to the hood of the motor-van. +</p> + +<p> +It had been newly painted; but clearly underneath the white paint +which covered it was the faint impression of a word, badly and +awkwardly painted by an amateur hand—the word “Laundry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember, Harvey, Miss Ward telling us that there was a +laundry van outside her flat the night they tried to abduct her? If +she can identify this——” He stopped suddenly with a twinge of pain. +If she were there to identify anything! +</p> + +<p> +The limousine had recently been cleaned, and he took the precaution of +jotting down the numbers of both cars. It might be, of course, that +these machines were the legitimate property of the new owners of the +building, and had been engaged only in perfectly innocent business. It +might have been a coincidence that such a car was waiting in the +Charing Cross Road the night Blind Jake tried to abduct the girl. +</p> + +<p> +He closed the doors, and Harvey re-locked them. +</p> + +<p> +“ ’Phone these numbers through to the Yard,” said Larry. “Ask the +Registration Department to identify them!” +</p> + +<p> +Harvey went off and Larry was left alone in the yard. He went again to +the wheel-tracks. They had been made that morning, for a shower of +rain had fallen in the night, and the newness of the markings was +obvious. +</p> + +<p> +He walked along to the laundry building proper—a new erection of +brick, with ground-glass windows. Here, too, was a sliding door, and +on the stone steps leading up was a foot-mark. He bent suddenly to +look at the print. +</p> + +<p> +Larry, in moments of excitement, was wont to act jerkily. And now his +movements to an observer would seem sudden and unexpected. As he bent +his head— +</p> + +<p> +“Plok!” +</p> + +<p> +It was a sound like a cork being discharged from a gaseous champagne +bottle, only a little louder, a little more metallic. There was an +answering crash near at hand, a splinter of wood fell upon Larry’s +neck, and he jumped up with a start. A panel of the door was smashed +as by a bullet. If he had not dropped his head at that moment to +examine the footprint—Sunny would have stopped the morning papers! +That, strangely enough, was the first thought that struck him. +</p> + +<p> +Larry looked round quickly; he had recognized the sound as soon as he +had heard it. There had been no report, but he had been fired at with +a rifle or pistol fitted with a Maxim silencer. He had heard that +“Plok!” before. His keen eyes ranged the windows of the building +behind for a sign of smoke, but whatever there might have been must +have been instantly dissipated. Then he noticed for the first time +that the dormitory from whence the girl had disappeared commanded a +view of the yard. He saw the open window, and with his exact sense of +topography located the room. No other shot was fired, and he crossed +the yard, keeping his eyes upon the backs of the two houses, ready to +drop at the first flash of a rifle. +</p> + +<p> +Harvey, on his way back, had opened a wicket in the bigger gate, and +Larry stepped out into the street in a thoughtful frame of mind. He +went straight back to the Home. The blind hawkers who used the Home +were beginning to arrive. They came in ones and twos, tapping their +way with their iron-shod sticks, and as they passed him on their way +to the common room, a local officer identified them. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re all decent citizens, eh?” said Larry. “None of them is on the +crime-index?” +</p> + +<p> +“None, sir,” said the man. “They’re all quite law-abiding people, and +we’ve never had a complaint against any of them.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry went up to the dormitory from whence he believed the shot had +been fired. To his surprise, the door was locked and the officer was +on duty outside. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the meaning of this?” he asked sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“The superintendent sent a message up, telling me that you wished to +see me, sir,” said the detective. “I went down and found that he had +sent no such message. When I came back, the door was locked.” +</p> + +<p> +“From the inside?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Apparently, sir. There is no key in the lock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who brought the message?” +</p> + +<p> +“The little fellow who opens the door of the place.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know him,” nodded Larry. “What explanation did he give?” +</p> + +<p> +“He said that somebody with the superintendent’s voice told him to go +upstairs with the message.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stand on one side,” said Larry, and with his foot kicked open the +door. +</p> + +<p> +The room was empty, but he sniffed. +</p> + +<p> +“A rifle has been fired in here, probably when you were downstairs,” +he said. “You understand that you are not to leave this room unless I +personally or Sergeant Harvey come to you and bring a man to take your +place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, sir,” said the crestfallen worker. +</p> + +<p> +“But in the circumstances I’m not blaming you,” interrupted Larry with +a faint smile. “We are dealing with an extraordinary gang, and they +will use extraordinary methods—you cannot be expected to meet every +move as it comes, let alone anticipate what their next will be.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no doubt that the rifle had been fired in this room; he +could smell the exploded cordite; the proof came when he found under +the bed near the window the exploded shell of a cartridge. He +descended to the superintendent’s office and found the Rev. John +Dearborn a little perturbed. +</p> + +<p> +“How long do you intend keeping your men here, Mr. Holt?” he asked. +“Some of my fellows want to go to their dormitory to sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am keeping my men here until I get some proof that Miss Ward is not +on the premises,” said Larry shortly, “and until I have found the +gentleman who shot at me from the very dormitory in which she +disappeared.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shot at you?” said the other in surprise. “You don’t mean——” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean just what I say,” said Larry. “Forgive me if I am brusque. +Whilst you were talking to the detective who had been brought +downstairs by a ruse I was shot at from that room and the door was +locked.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is most amazing,” said the Rev. John, shaking his head. “I cannot +imagine a situation more trying to myself or more exciting for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exciting!” repeated Larry, and laughed bitterly. “There will be +excitement all right,” he said grimly, “but it will come later, when I +have unravelled this tangle.” +</p> + +<p> +And then his mordant humour asserted itself. +</p> + +<p> +“You should put this situation into one of your plays, Mr. Dearborn,” +he said, and he thought he saw the colour come to the man’s pale face. +</p> + +<p> +“That is quite an idea,” replied the superintendent thoughtfully, “and +I thank you for it. Have you ever seen any of my plays?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have not seen them,” said Larry, “but I am going at the first +opportunity to pay a visit to the Macready.” +</p> + +<p> +The superintendent shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I sometimes fear,” he said, “that they are not as good as some of my +friends think they are, and I am disappointed that you have not seen +one. But they go on producing them, and money comes in for the Home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who pays the cost of production?” asked Larry curiously. He welcomed +any diversion from the overwhelming misery of his thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“A gentleman who is interested in my work,” replied Mr. Dearborn. “I +have never met him, but he has never refused to produce a play of +mine. Sometimes I think he does so because he wishes to help this +Home.” +</p> + +<p> +“He must have some good reason,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +Conversation flagged after this. Once a telephone buzzed, and the +superintendent took up a receiver from his table and listened. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think you had better,” he said, and hung up the receiver +again. “A mundane question from the kitchen,” he smiled. “I have +telephones fitted all over the house so far as our means allow us,” he +added. “It saves so many journeys.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then a deputation came from the common room with a grievance. The +men of No. 1 Dormitory wish to go into their sleeping-places. Some of +them made a practice of sleeping the clock round, and all of them, +whether they wanted to retire at once or not, claimed their right to +enter their dormitory. +</p> + +<p> +“You hear?” said the superintendent. “It is rather difficult for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“They can have beds at the nearest hotel,” he said, “and I will pay +for them. Or they can sleep somewhere else. I don’t mind the beds +being taken out. But nobody occupies that room until Miss Ward is +found.” +</p> + +<p> +He strolled out into the passage and walked to the common room. These +poor men were entitled to an explanation, and he gave it, stating the +case fairly and simply, and there was a chorus of approval even from +the most obstreperous. +</p> + +<p> +He had concluded his harangue and was standing in the passage with his +back to the wall, his head on his breast, thinking, when he heard a +commotion upstairs, and a cry, and leapt up the stairs two at a time. +He got to the first landing and was turning, when he saw a sight that +brought his heart into his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Walking slowly down the stairs toward him was Diana Ward. Her blouse +hung in rags, so that the under-bodice and the snowy white of her +shoulders were visible. She carried in one hand a compact Smith-Wesson +revolver, and on her white face was a smile of triumph. +</p> + +<p> +For a second Larry looked at her and then leapt up the remaining +stairs to meet her, and caught her in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, my dear!” he said brokenly. “Thank God you have come back!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch25"> +CHAPTER XXV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">WHAT HAPPENED TO DIANA</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Diana Ward</span> had strolled to the farther end of the dormitory and was +feeling the texture of the rough sheets. The housewife instinct in her +was a strong one and her nurse’s training had given her an additional +interest in the means which were adopted to give comfort to these poor +blind beggars—for beggars most of them were. She had heard the +superintendent ask Larry to open the window, and she was watching +idly, when the door of the cupboard behind her opened without a sound +and a barefooted man crept out. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing that Diana knew was that something like a piece of wet +chamois leather was over her face, and she was being lifted bodily. +For a second she was paralyzed, and in that second she had passed +through the cupboard and the wall behind. Both doors fastened—for the +back of the press, as Larry had suspected at first, was a door that +moved, pegs and all, outwards. What he could not know was that it was +literally a brick door. +</p> + +<p> +She heard its thud as it closed, and, wriggling her face clear of the +wet leather, she screamed. Again a hand that was big enough to cover +the whole of her face came over her mouth, and she was dragged along +in the darkness; another door opened, and she was thrown in. There was +a click, and an electric light blazed from above, and she saw her +captor and shrank back in terror. +</p> + +<p> +He was tall, bigger than any man she had seen. She guessed he was +seven feet in height, and his breadth was in proportion. He was +dressed in a shirt and a pair of trousers. His feet and his arms were +bare, and she had no need to study that hairy forearm to appreciate +its strength. It was as massive as an average man’s thigh, and the +muscles stood out in swathes. His face was red and large and curiously +flat. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes, which did not move when he spoke, were of the palest blue, +and a mane of gray hair swept back from his forehead and hung untidily +behind. The mouth, heavy and gross, was covered by a short unkempt +beard which was neither gray nor yellow, but had something of each in +its hue. His enormous ears stuck out from his head almost at right +angles, and she thought she had never seen so terrible a creature in +her life. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll let ye have a look at me so that ye’ll know me again,” he +giggled. (There was no other word that Diana could think of that so +described that shrill laugh of his.) “Where’s your gun?” he bantered. +“Why don’t you fire it at poor old Jake—he told you all about me, +I’ll bet!” +</p> + +<p> +She knew that he referred to Larry Holt, but made no reply. Her eyes +were searching the room for some weapon, but the rough plastered walls +were bare and there was not a stick of furniture in the place. The +only window was a long narrow slip of toughened glass near the +ceiling, flanked on each side by two wall ventilators. She searched +her bag, but there was nothing there. She was even without hatpins, +though they would be practically useless against this brute. +</p> + +<p> +“Looking for something to kill me with, are you?” he giggled again. “I +hear you! Now you sit down and be patient, young woman,” he said. +“There’s a good time coming, and nobody wants to hurt you.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not attempt to approach her, and she had that relief, but his +next words told her that the real danger was but postponed. +</p> + +<p> +“Ye’re pretty by all accounts,” he chuckled. “And them as likes pretty +ones might give the world for you. It’s a wonder to me that They ain’t +took ye, my dear, but They haven’t any use for women or marriage and +the like, so They’ve given ye to Old Jake.” +</p> + +<p> +He giggled again and the girl went cold at the sound. He had a trick +of pausing before and emphasizing “They” as though the word stood in +capitals in his dark mind. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t see ye, so prettiness don’t mean much to me, my little +darling. And if your face was like hers”—he jerked his thumb to the +ceiling—“it wouldn’t make no difference to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll never get out of this building,” she said, realizing that it +was best to show a bold attitude. “Mr. Holt is in the house next door, +and by this time the place will be surrounded.” +</p> + +<p> +This time his chuckle had a deeper note. +</p> + +<p> +“There are ten ways out of the house,” he said contemptuously. “That’s +why They bought it. There’s a hole underneath the cellar where you can +walk for miles, and nobody there to stop you but the rats. Rats are +afraid of blind men.” +</p> + +<p> +There was the hint of a curious, childlike simplicity that ill fitted +his monstrous shape. +</p> + +<p> +“Sooner or later he will get you,” she said quietly, and then, with a +sudden inspiration: “He has already got Lew.” +</p> + +<p> +He was on the point of leaving the room, and he spun round, his face +working. +</p> + +<p> +“Lew!” he roared. “He’s got Lew!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he was silent, and the silence ended in a shout of laughter that +seemed to shake the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Lew will tell him a lot!” he said. “How’s he going to ask Lew for +information when Lew doesn’t know where he is, or who he’s talking to? +He can’t read or write. He’d have been dead, too,” he nodded sagely, +“dead as a door nail, Lew would have been, for the dirty trick he +played upon Them. He was the man who put the paper into the pocket of +the feller They croaked!” +</p> + +<p> +“We know that,” she said boldly, and he seemed to be impressed. +</p> + +<p> +“You found that out, did you?” he said. “But Lew didn’t tell ye. He’d +have been dead, as dead as a door nail, Lew would, only They didn’t +want no dead men knocking about. Me and Lew carried him down the +steps,” he said, nodding his great head. “I can tell you that, because +I know the lor. I know the lor properly, I do. You can’t tell Old Jake +anything.” +</p> + +<p> +She was wondering what he meant by this boast of his knowledge of the +law. +</p> + +<p> +“A wife can’t give evidence against her husband,” he said with a +little leer. “That’s why I tell you all this, little darling.” +</p> + +<p> +“A wife!” she gasped, sick at the ghastliness of the suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Jake Bradford,” he chortled. “Bradford is my name, my darling, +and you’ll be married by his reverence, too, proper and in order.” +</p> + +<p> +“You fool!” she burst forth in her anger and fear. “Do you think +anybody could marry me to a horror like you? Do you think I should +stand without protesting and telling all I know, by your side? You’re +mad.” +</p> + +<p> +He bent his head forward and his voice came lower as he spoke, until +it was little more than a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s worse than me in this house,” he said slowly, “and maybe you +won’t mind me if you don’t see me, young lady. And you may be blind as +I am, and deaf, too, like Lew.” He paused, and she shrank back, +holding on to the walls for support. “And dumb, if you’re going to +talk!” he roared in a sudden fury. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to +you if They told me to.” +</p> + +<p> +The door opened and closed. A key turned and a bolt was shot, and +looking up, she saw he was gone, and slid to the floor half conscious, +half fainting. Then with an effort she drooped her head low and felt +the blood coming back, and presently she was able to stand. +</p> + +<p> +No power of will could stop her hands from shaking, and it was not +until she had paced the room for ten minutes that she came back to +anything like normal. She knew that it was no idle threat this man had +uttered. He would be merciless if his unknown superiors gave the +order. He would crush out the youth and the beauty of youth, the sweet +senses of life, without compunction at the word of Them. He would +mutilate and torture, and pity would not come to him. She had to think +clearly and think quickly. +</p> + +<p> +She went to the door, but she knew that escape that way was +impossible. There was no chair by which she could reach the window, +and she could not make her escape without even attracting attention +through that slit of wall. There was nothing in the room but the +electric light. +</p> + +<p> +She remembered Larry’s story of how this man had come toward him with +his hands up, and how he had crushed the bulb in his powerful fist. He +must be animal strong, she thought. Wasn’t there a danger of his being +shocked by the electric current? +</p> + +<p> +At that she looked up quickly. The light had been fixed without any +regard to appearance. The long wire came from the ceiling at one end +of the room and was loosely tacked to the ceiling as far as the +centre, where it passed over a hook and hung downwards, with a little +tin reflector over the pear-shaped lamp. She reached for the lamp and +turned it round. +</p> + +<p> +“Two hundred volts,” she read, ground upon the crystal glass. +</p> + +<p> +She tried to unhook the wire by throwing up the loose end, but it was +some time before she succeeded, and at last the loose part fell and +the lamp jerked to the floor and almost touched it. She caught the +loose flex in her hand and pulled gently, and the thin wire brackets +which held the flex to the ceiling came away without any difficulty. +The switch was near the door, and she walked across and turned it off. +Putting one foot upon the flex, near to where it entered the aperture +of the shade, she pulled with all her might and after several attempts +it snapped. +</p> + +<p> +She was in darkness, but her nimble fingers plucked at the loose end +of the wire, and with her finger-nails she cleared away the rubber +casing which enclosed the tiny thread-like strands of copper. Soon she +had something that felt like a loose-haired broom in her hands, and +she was satisfied. She thought she heard a noise in the passage, and, +running to the switch, turned the current on again. She groped in the +half-darkness for her bag and found it, took out her gloves and put +them on, then felt gingerly for the hanging strands. She took them in +her hands and held the “brush” before her, being careful not to touch +one exposed strand. Pushing away the shade and the globe with her +foot, she waited in the centre of the room. And then the door opened. +</p> + +<p> +“Here I am again, dearie,” and her breath came quickly as she heard +the door locked from the inside. “You think I’m a funny-looking +fellow, don’t you?” He did not know that the light was out, for he +lived in everlasting darkness. +</p> + +<p> +For a time he made no attempt to come near her. She could just see the +shape of him by the evening light which filtered through the narrow +window. +</p> + +<p> +“Tony missed him,” he said, by way of conveying information. “Missed +him!” he said contemptuously. “If I’d had my eyes, I’d have got the +devil! I’d get him now with this little gun of mine, blind as I am, if +I could hear him move. But we’ll have Holty yet, my darling. We’ll +have him and cut his heart out. He’ll wish he was never born.” +</p> + +<p> +He lowered his voice, and said something which was not intelligible to +the girl. Then he seemed to recall the object of his visit. +</p> + +<p> +“Come to Old Jake, my dear,” he giggled, as he walked stealthily +toward her, both of his huge arms outstretched. “Come to your old +husband, my pretty!” +</p> + +<p> +He was as quick as a cat, and one hand had gripped the shoulder of her +blouse before she realized he was upon her—gripped it and tore it +from shoulder to hem. She threw herself back, and his other hand came +up—and touched the outspread wire. With a yell that was half shriek, +half roar, he fell back. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do?” he asked savagely. “What did you do, you little +devil? Did you knife me like that swine?” +</p> + +<p> +He was evidently feeling himself to discover an injury, and then he +leapt at her, and this time the wire struck his face, and he fell to +the ground like a log. +</p> + +<p> +She heard him stir. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, what is it?” he whispered. “I can’t see it! You oughtn’t +to treat an old blind man like that, you little——” +</p> + +<p> +His hand shot out and caught her ankle, flinging her to the ground. +But again his face touched the electric wire, charged with 200 volts, +and he screamed and rolled over. He was mad now, a whimpering lunatic. +Again and again he approached her; again and again his hand, his face, +his neck, came into contact with the current. And then suddenly he +fell again, and the girl thrust the cruel ends of the wire at his +throat. She felt like a murderess as he shivered convulsively. But she +had to kill him; she knew that nothing short of killing him would save +her life. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she took the wire away. He lay very still, and her shaking +hands searched his pockets. She found the key, felt the revolver in +his pocket and extracted it, and fumbled for the lock. Presently the +door was open and she was in the passage which turned to the right, +and along here she went. She was in a lighter room with two windows, +but she was still in mortal terror; for now she had lost her best +weapon of defence. +</p> + +<p> +The door was easy to find. Cleverly concealed it might be in the +dormitory of Todd’s Home, but here it was well marked. She pulled a +handle, and the mass of brickwork swung back and she walked through +the door. A man standing in the dormitory spun round, a revolver in +his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” he cried. “Miss Ward, where did you come from?” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch26"> +CHAPTER XXVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">BACK AGAIN</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">That</span> sense of security, of peace, and of deep happiness was +inexpressibly sweet, she thought, as she lay in Larry Holt’s arms. +Presently she released herself, and in a few hurried words had said +enough to send a small battalion of detectives racing to the dormitory +and through the brick door, which she had left ajar. +</p> + +<p> +Larry handed the girl to the care of Harvey and followed his men. The +room where Diana had been imprisoned was empty. He stopped long enough +to switch off the current, then joined the searchers. There was no +doubt that this place, for all its unoccupied appearance, had regular +tenants. They found rooms that had been built within rooms, a thin +wall being erected within a few feet of each window. This meant that +the house might be occupied at night, and lights might blaze in every +apartment without anybody outside being the wiser. +</p> + +<p> +Blind Jake had said no more than the truth when he had told the girl +that there were plenty of ways out of the house. They found one in the +cellar that led to an old disused rain-water sewer, and here pursuit +was abandoned. None of the party except Larry, who always carried a +small flash lamp, was equipped for a chase through the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Another exit led directly into the yard where Larry had found the +garage. A third communicated with the kitchen of Todd’s Home. +</p> + +<p> +Larry, realizing that his quarry had escaped, went back to the girl. +He found her sitting in the superintendent’s office, the watchful +Harvey embarrassingly close to her side—an attitude which was +explained when the laughing girl lifted one of her arms, for Harvey, +who was taking no risks, had handcuffed their wrists together! +</p> + +<p> +“And very wise, too,” said Larry with a smile as the detective +unfastened the irons. “Now, Mr. Dearborn, I want to have some sort of +explanation of the mysterious happenings in this house.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think anything mysterious has happened here,” said Mr. +Dearborn quietly. “You cannot hold me responsible for villainy which +may have been perpetrated next door. I am told that there are doors +communicating between these two houses, but of that I had not the +slightest knowledge. If there was a man living next door——” +</p> + +<p> +“There were six men living next door,” said Larry. “We found their +beds and some of their clothing. From the fact that there were books, +some of them open, it is pretty clear that they are not blind.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Dearborn shrugged his despair. +</p> + +<p> +“What can I do?” he asked. “In this house we are dependent entirely +upon the loyalty of our inmates; and though it is possible sometimes +to detect the presence of a stranger by his unusual footfalls, his +voice or his cough, it is quite possible that these men made the +freest use of the Home for the purpose of carrying on their nefarious +work without our having the slightest knowledge of such things.” +</p> + +<p> +This argument was so logical that Larry did not contest its truth. +These cunning men who formed the gang might use the Home with +impunity, if they exercised care in their movements and maintained +silence. Frankly, he acknowledged the reasonableness of Mr. Dearborn’s +argument. +</p> + +<p> +“I quite appreciate the possibility,” he said. “It is rather +unfortunate for you as well as for me. It might have been a great deal +more unfortunate,” he added with truth. Though how unfortunately this +adventure might have ended he had to learn when the girl told her +story on the way to Scotland Yard. +</p> + +<p> +“Dreadful, dreadful!” he shuddered. “My poor, poor child!” +</p> + +<p> +His own relief had been so great that he felt physically ill. But no +such reaction was visible in the girl, who grew calmer and brighter as +the taxi neared Scotland Yard. She wore his raincoat, and they had +stopped in the Edgware Road to allow her to buy a blouse, for she +insisted upon going to Scotland Yard first to make her statement. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m rather sorry for Dearborn,” he said. “He is a pathetic figure. +Men who devote their lives to this kind of work may be excused even +their feeble dramatic efforts. Did you notice how eagerly he shook +hands with you?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I noticed that,” she said in a strange tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Diana,” he said, “what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing,” she said lightly. “I mean that he took my hand, that is +all, and shook it very heartily.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there’s nothing in that,” said Larry with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a great deal in that,” said the girl, “a great deal more +than you can realize.” +</p> + +<p> +He leaned back in the cab and laughed softly. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re going to mystify me. I can feel it coming on,” he said, and +she squeezed his arm affectionately. +</p> + +<p> +He sent her up to 47 alone, and she had changed her torn blouse for +the new purchase by the time he discreetly knocked at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way,” he said, “I forgot to ask you. Where did you dig up that +deadly-looking weapon I saw in your hand as you were coming down the +stairs?” +</p> + +<p> +“From Blind Jake’s pocket,” she said. “Ugh! It was horrid touching +him, but I wanted to be quite sure that I had some kind of weapon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly you have a big end of the story,” he said. “We know now +that Blind Jake and the man Lew——” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you left him there?” she asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +He smiled a little wryly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve made too many mistakes in this case to add to them,” he said. +“No, I have taken this man to another institution where he is being +looked after. Lew and Jake were the two men who were employed, either +before or after the murder of Gordon Stuart,” he went on. “The gang +has probably got a hold on Lew, and he was anxious to escape from +their clutches or to be avenged upon them for some treachery they have +committed, and he wrote the message which we found—on the strip of +paper with the Braille characters. That fines the search down to one +man, because we can find means of inducing Lew to understand whose +hands he is in.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the greatest discovery of all you haven’t touched,” she said +quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Larry got up from his chair, laughing, and paced the room, a favourite +occupation of his. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re an extraordinary girl,” he said. “No sooner do I think I have +got the case set, than you produce something new, something more +important in the shape of clues, and something generally,” he added +pensively, “that upsets all my previous theories.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think this will,” she said. “I am referring to the woman +upstairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“What woman upstairs?” he asked, astounded. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember I told you that Jake pointed with his thumb to the +ceiling, and said if I had a face like hers——” She stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I’m a brute and a forgetful brute; but +things have happened to-day which have driven the Stuart case out of +my mind. And that reminds me,” he said, “I want to telephone.” +</p> + +<p> +He called a number, and she recognized it as the number of the +Trafalgar Hospital. +</p> + +<p> +“I want the matron’s office, please,” he said, and whilst she was +wondering where his mind had led him, he said: “Is that you, matron? +It is I, Larry Holt. Yes, how do you do? Are the nurses you send out +to cases having a slack time? I mean, are there plenty to go round? +There are? Well, will you send a nice motherly lady to my address at +Regent’s Gate Gardens? You know where I live? No, I’m not ill,” he +smiled, “but I have somebody with me who isn’t too well—yes, a lady.” +</p> + +<p> +He hung up the receiver and turned to meet the girl’s astonished eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you a lady staying with you?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t, but I shall have,” said Larry. “You’re not going back to +Charing Cross Road to-night except to get the things you require; +you’re coming up to my flat, and there you’re going to stay, +chaperoned by a very nice nurse, and you’ll greatly oblige me if +you’ll pretend that you’re a little bit under the weather. I must save +my face.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I can’t, it’s impossible!” she said, scarlet of face. “I +couldn’t——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, you could,” said Larry. “Now you’re going to do as I tell +you. Otherwise, it means that I must sit outside your flat all night +catching my death of cold.” +</p> + +<p> +Finally she consented. They dined together, and he took her to see two +acts of the Dearborn play. They came out at the end of the second act, +bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +“But how could anybody put such awful stuff on the stage?” asked the +girl on their way to his flat. +</p> + +<p> +“It is rather amazing, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Then Larry began to chuckle. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re easily amused to-day,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very happy to-night,” he corrected. “It just occurred to me that +Sunny will have to meet the nurse when she comes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever will he say?” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” drawled Larry, “if the nurse insists there’s a lady ill in the +house, Sunny will say, ‘Yes, madam,’ and will do his best to produce +one!” +</p> + +<p> +It was past eleven when they got to the flat. The elevators had +stopped running at half-past ten, and they had to walk up the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Watch your step,” warned Larry. “They light these stairways +abominably.” +</p> + +<p> +He went first, and she saw him pause on the top step of the second +flight. +</p> + +<p> +“Great Scott! Who’s that?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Against his door a man was lying, doubled up and still. Larry leant +over him and rang the bell, and Sunny came to the door. +</p> + +<p> +In the flood of light thrown by the hall lamp Larry saw the face of +the prostrate figure. He was breathing stertorously, and his face and +his head streamed with blood. +</p> + +<p> +“Sunny, has the nurse arrived?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Sunny, looking down at the figure. +</p> + +<p> +“Then she’ll be wanted,” said Larry quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it?” asked Diana, peering round behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“Flash Fred,” said Larry, “and as near to dead as makes no +difference.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch27"> +CHAPTER XXVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">“JOHN DEARBORN IS NOT BLIND”</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">They</span> carried the injured man into the sitting room and laid him on a +couch. There was a doctor living in the flat above and luckily he had +not gone to bed, and was down in a few minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“He is badly injured,” he reported. “There are one or two knife +wounds, and the wound in the head looks as though there were a +fracture of the skull.” +</p> + +<p> +“The man must have been attacked outside my door,” said Larry. “He +couldn’t have walked far in this condition.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the doctor, shaking his head. “He might have walked two or +three yards, but the chances are, as you found him outside the door, +that he was there when the attack was made on him. Do you know him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Larry, “he is an old acquaintance of mine. Is there any +danger of his dying?” +</p> + +<p> +“A very big danger,” replied the doctor gravely. “That concussion may +be anything. I should send him straight away to hospital, where he can +be thoroughly examined and, if necessary, operated upon.” +</p> + +<p> +The ambulance had come and gone, and the only evidence of Flash Fred’s +visit was a few dark stains about the door, before Larry began to +think consecutively. +</p> + +<p> +The nurse who had arrived fulfilled all his telephoned requirements. +She was stout and jovial and matronly, and the first use Larry made of +his freedom from distraction was to tell her in a few words just why +she had been sent for. +</p> + +<p> +“Obviously I could not allow Miss Ward to go back to Charing Cross +Road after her terrible experience to-day,” he said, and Nurse James, +who was by no means dissatisfied with having so easy a “case,” agreed. +</p> + +<p> +She exercised her authority to the extent of ordering Diana to bed +immediately, and the girl meekly obeyed. But she could not sleep. At +two o’clock Larry, writing at his table, heard the creak of an opening +door and looked up to see her. She was in her dressing-gown, and her +hair was braided in a long golden plait. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t sleep,” she said restlessly, almost irritably, and he saw +that she was overstrung and rose to get an armchair for her. +</p> + +<p> +She neither apologized for her attire nor her visitation, and these +circumstances struck Larry as curious. But that which was on Diana +Ward’s mind was of so great an importance that the thought of decorum +did not occur to her. She sat there, her hands folded on her lap, and +there was no sound save the tick of a clock on the mantelpiece and the +squeak of Larry’s chair as it turned. +</p> + +<p> +“What is troubling you, Diana?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at him quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I’m troubled?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re not, you’re a wonderful girl,” said Larry gently. “You’ve +had an awful time to-day, my dear, but somehow I do not think that +that is what is on your mind.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t,” and added, “it is the woman upstairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“The woman upstairs? Oh, you mean the woman that Jake spoke about? +But, Diana, there was no ‘upstairs.’ You were on the top floor of that +building, which is a story lower than Todd’s Home.” +</p> + +<p> +But still she was not satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” he went on quietly, “if she had been there, the woman may +have been—as bad a character as any of the other occupants of that +house. The fact that she was unpleasant to look at, as Jake suggested, +does not make her innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor soul, poor soul!” said the girl, and then to Larry’s horror she +began to weep softly. “I can’t sleep for thinking of her,” she sobbed. +“They will keep her, they dare not let her go!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” he gasped suddenly, “you don’t suggest that she is Clarissa +Stuart?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at that, her face stained with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Clarissa Stuart?” she repeated slowly. “No, I don’t think she is +Clarissa Stuart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then who is she?” he asked. “At any rate, who do you think she is?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think—I am sure,” she said, speaking with painful slowness. +“That woman was Emma, the charwoman of the boarding house,” and Larry +jumped to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“The charwoman,” he said slowly. “You’re right!” +</p> + +<p> +Again the tick of the little clock asserted itself as they sat, busy +with their own thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“You connect this terrible gang with the Stuart mystery?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I also connect them,” said Larry, “for very excellent reasons. And +yet I cannot see what they gained by Stuart’s death, unless they were +in league with this girl who calls herself Clarissa Stuart?” +</p> + +<p> +She made a hopeless little gesture and rose. +</p> + +<p> +“I can connect them all,” she said. “They are very distinct in their +relationships, but then,” with a faint smile, “I have an advantage +over you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have many advantages over me,” said Larry, humouring her. “And +now, dear, you must go back and sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +But she did not heed him. +</p> + +<p> +“There is only one I did not connect,” she went on, “and you have made +his case understandable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Flash Fred,” she replied. “He is just a criminal who has touched the +fringe of the conspiracy and has been in it without knowing he was in +it.” She nodded as though she had only at that moment decided her +point of view. “But the others? Blind Jake who works for an unknown +master; the charwoman, the greatest victim of them all; poor Lew, with +his deaf ears and his blistered fingers—you didn’t see those. I +should have told you, only the doctor interrupted us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Blistered fingers?” said Larry in amazement. “No, I didn’t see them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I felt them,” she shuddered, “when he touched my face. His fingers +and thumbs have been blistered at the tops.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why?” +</p> + +<p> +“So that he shall not read Braille or write Braille,” said the girl +quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s impossible, impossible!” said Larry in horror. “There cannot be +such villainy in the world. My child, I have been acquainted with some +of the worst crimes that have ever been committed in Europe. I have +seen the victims, I have tracked and hanged the criminals. Men are +cruel, vicious, unscrupulous, and bloody-minded, but they do not +commit such cold-blooded deeds as you say have been committed upon +that poor blind man.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled again. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you realize just how bad these people are,” she said. +“For if you did, you would never say that it was impossible. For +Dearborn——” she began, and he laughed outright. +</p> + +<p> +“Diana, dear, you’ve reached the stage which we always reach, when +you’re suspicious of everybody! Not of poor John Dearborn, working for +the good of humanity in that slum, and amidst those fearful people?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I shook hands with John Dearborn when I went there. I shook hands +with him when I came away,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“That doesn’t make him a criminal,” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“And when I offered my hand he took it,” she said. “Please remember +that I was a nurse in a blind asylum for two years—when I offered my +hand he took it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, why shouldn’t he?” asked Larry in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“He shouldn’t have seen it,” said the girl, “if he was blind. And John +Dearborn is no more blind than you or I!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch28"> +CHAPTER XXVIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">WHO RUNS DEARBORN?</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Say</span> that again,” said Larry slowly. “You offered your hand and he +took it?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know that when you shake hands with the blind, you always +reach out and take their hand, because they cannot see yours offered; +but Dearborn raised his just as soon as I raised mine.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry was staring helplessly at her. +</p> + +<p> +“If he is not blind, why is he there?” he asked. “He is a clergyman.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no John Dearborn in the Clergy List,” said the girl calmly. +“I went carefully through the list; and he is not amongst the +Congregational, the Baptist, or the Wesleyan ministers.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry looked at her, lost in admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a wonder! But don’t forget that he came from Australia.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Australian lists are available,” said the girl immediately, “and +the only John Dearborn is an aged gentleman who lives at Totooma, and +is obviously not our John Dearborn.” +</p> + +<p> +She had come to the table and had drawn a chair up close. She now +leant forward, her hands clasped in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +“Larry,” she said—“I’m going to call you Larry out of office +hours—has it not struck you as strange that John Dearborn’s plays +should be produced at a theatre, remembering that he has written a +succession of failures?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve always thought that,” Larry admitted, and she nodded her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would look into the directorate of the Macready,” she +said. “Find out what comprises the syndicate which puts up the money +for producing these plays. I don’t forget that Mr. Stuart disappeared +from that theatre.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I,” said Larry quietly. “But John Dearborn! You amaze me.” +</p> + +<p> +She rose. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel sleepy now that I have got that off my mind,” she smiled. “Are +you”—she hesitated—“watching the laundry?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have two men there who are instructed to stop any car coming out +and discover who is the driver and what the car contains.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I can go to bed cheerfully,” she said with a little laugh, and +passing him, she rested her hand gently on his head. “They will +keep—Emma alive for some time yet. The only danger is that they may +take her away from the laundry.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can rest your mind on that,” said Larry quietly, and with this +assurance she went to bed and he heard her door close. +</p> + +<p> +The next day was uneventful. The police had made a further search of +the laundry, and had discovered a room above that in which the girl +had been imprisoned. It was a very tiny attic apartment, but showed +signs of having been occupied, though it was empty when the police +made their call. +</p> + +<p> +Larry cursed himself that he had not made a more thorough inspection +of the premises. He had been so relieved at the discovery of the girl +that he had not been as painstaking as he should have been—this he +told himself disgustedly. +</p> + +<p> +There were two people whom he desired greatly to meet. The first of +these was the man who had lost the little finger of his left hand. +That curious individual who had preceded him the day he was +investigating the reason for Gordon Stuart’s mysterious visits to a +country churchyard. The second was the mysterious Emma. In his heart +of hearts he knew that Emma would supply the key which would unlock +the door to great and conclusive revelations. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall never forgive myself,” he told Diana, “if any harm comes to +this woman.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“You need not fear that they will do her harm,” she said. “She is much +too valuable, and I shall know just when her danger period commences.” +</p> + +<p> +“You!” he said in surprise. “Really, Diana, you scare me sometimes.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed, and her laughter was drowned in the rattle of her +typewriter. +</p> + +<p> +“Flash Fred has not recovered consciousness yet,” he told her, “but +there’s a big chance that he will. The doctors say that there is no +actual fracture, and that there is a possibility that the pressure +which now keeps him unconscious will disperse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“In St. Mary’s Hospital,” replied Larry. “I have him in a private ward +with a police officer on guard. Not that poor Fred could escape,” he +smiled, “but there are people in this city who will probably be most +anxious that he escape by the only way which leaves them safe…” +</p> + +<p> +She did not need to ask which way that was. He put down the pen he had +been holding, though he had done very little writing. +</p> + +<p> +“It wouldn’t be a bad idea if we went along to St. Mary’s and +discovered at first hand how the man is,” he said. “Will you come?” +</p> + +<p> +As she put on her hat before the four-inch square of looking-glass +which she had imported into the building, she asked, without turning +her head: +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to do about John Dearborn?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry rubbed his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“I hardly know,” he said. “It is not an offence for a man to pretend +to be blind if he isn’t. Besides,” he continued, “he might have had +sufficient sight to have seen your hand. There may be a dozen +explanations. He could have offered his hand mechanically, almost +instinctively.” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“It is possible,” she said quietly, “but he smiled, too, when I +smiled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who wouldn’t?” said Larry gallantly. +</p> + +<p> +In the business-like office of the senior house surgeon at St. Mary’s +they met the surgeon in charge of the case. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve come at a very fortunate moment,” he smiled. “Your man has +recovered consciousness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can he talk?” asked Larry eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“I think so. At any rate, I see no particular reason why he shouldn’t, +if there is urgent necessity for your questioning him. Naturally, he +is still very weak, and in ordinary circumstances I should not allow +anybody to interview him; but I gather that you have particular police +business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very particular,” said Larry grimly. +</p> + +<p> +The surgeon led the way to the ward. At the door of the ward the girl +hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I come?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Your presence is necessary,” said Larry, “if it is only in a +professional capacity. Have you got your notebook?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded and they went into the little private ward where Fred +Grogan lay. His head was swathed in bandages and his face was white +and drawn, but his eyes lit up at the sight of Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“I never expected to look forward to seeing you,” he said. “But first +of all, governor,”—his voice was earnest—“you ought to get hold of +that woman in the boiler-house.” +</p> + +<p> +“The woman in the boiler-house?” repeated Larry quickly. “What do you +mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Clarissa’s nurse,” was the staggering reply; “and who ‘Clarissa’ is, +the Lord knows!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch29"> +CHAPTER XXIX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">FLASH FRED’S STORY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Now</span> I’m going to give it to you straight, governor,” said Fred, +settling himself comfortably in bed. “I won’t say that I couldn’t tell +a lie—that’s the one saying of Napoleon’s that I’ve never believed.” +</p> + +<p> +“The same period, but another man,” said Larry, concealing a smile; +“but don’t worry about your history, Fred. I want you to get this +story off your mind as quickly as you can.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve done a lot of reading in my time,” said the sick man +reminiscently. “Histories and high-class novels—they’ve got a pretty +good library in Portland Prison, but they’re not so good as the books +you get in Wormwood Scrubs. Anyway, I am going to tell you the truth, +Mr. Holt. I might as well start at the beginning, and I know I’m going +to put myself in wrong, but you’ll have to forget a lot of the things +I tell you, because they make me look as if I was a dishonest person.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should hate that impression to get abroad,” said Larry without a +smile, “and I promise you that anything which doesn’t relate directly +to the murder of Gordon Stuart will be discreetly forgotten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cheerio!” said Fred, visibly brighter. “Well, this story begins about +four or five years ago in Montpellier. You don’t know Montpellier, +perhaps?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it,” said Larry. “You can cut out all the topographical +details. I know it from the Coq d’Or to the Palace.” +</p> + +<p> +“I happened to be there,” said Fred, “looking round and enjoying +myself, and I drifted into a little game that was run by a man named +Floquart on the quiet. It was baccarat, and I’m very lucky at +baccarat, especially when I’ve made friends with the dealer. But this +time the dealer and me weren’t on speaking terms, as you might say, +and for three days I never felt money that wasn’t my own. And each day +there was less of my own to feel. Then one night they cleaned me out +proper, and I left Floquart’s with just enough to get me home to the +hotel if I walked. +</p> + +<p> +“I was turning out of the rue Narbonne when I heard a shot, and, +looking across the place, I saw a man lying on the ground and another +fellow walking away pretty slick. In those days the police +arrangements at Montpellier weren’t all they could have been, and +there wasn’t a gendarme in sight. The fellow who was walking must have +thought he’d got away with it, when I suddenly came up to him. There +was just enough light, for the day was breaking, for me to distinguish +his face. A fine-looking fellow he was, with a big yellow beard, and I +think he was scared sick when I suddenly stepped out and claimed him +as my own. It was not my business to butt into private disturbances, +but you understand that I was broke, and I thought that here was a +chance of helping a fellow creature in distress to get rid of any +incriminating money he might have in his possession. He told me a yarn +that the man he’d shot had done him a very bad injury, which I won’t +refer to in front of the young lady, and then he slipped me about +sixteen thousand francs and I let him go, because I was sorry for +him.” +</p> + +<p> +He glanced slyly up at Larry and grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he went on, “seeing that no gendarme had appeared, I walked +over and had a look at the lad who was shot, though I knew I was +taking a risk by being seen in the company of a soon-to-croak. They +say he was shot and must have died immediately, but that isn’t true: +he was alive when I got to him, and when I was bending over him, it +was to find out if I could do anything for the poor devil before he +passed out. I asked him who had shot him, and he replied”—he paused +impressively—“ ‘David Judd.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +Larry’s eyebrows went up. +</p> + +<p> +“David Judd?” he asked. “Is he any relation to the doctor?” +</p> + +<p> +“His brother,” said Fred. “That’s how I came to know him. I’ve always +told Judd that I recognized him in the street; as a matter of fact, it +was the poor guy on the ground who gave him away. I was trying to find +out why he was shot, when he croaked. I knew there was nothing to be +gained by being found attached to a murdered man, though fortunately +I hadn’t a gun in my possession and could have proved an alibi. Then I +heard a gendarme’s heavy feet coming down one of the side turnings, +and I got away as quickly as I could. But the swine recognized me, +though, and I had to go before an examining magistrate and prove that +I had nothing to do with the murder and that I was going for a doctor +when I was spotted. I had the good sense to go for a doctor,” he +added, “the moment I realized that the copper had seen me.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, finding it rather difficult to explain subsequent action in +language which would be wholly creditable to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“When I got back to London I thought it my duty to call on Mr. David +Judd,” he said. “He wasn’t in his office—he used to have a room at +the Greenwich Insurance—but I saw his brother, and I unloaded my +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your trouble being to discover how much they’d ‘drop’ for keeping +your mouth shut, I suppose,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got it at once, Mr. Holt. What a mind!” said the admiring +Fred. “He was terribly upset, was Dr. Judd, and said he would see his +brother as soon as he came back from the country. And then happened an +event which looked like spoiling all my beautiful prospects. Dr. David +died. He caught a cold coming down from Scotland and died in +twenty-four hours. I went to the funeral,” said Fred, “as a mourner, +and I bet that nobody mourned more than I did. Anyway, I must say that +Dr. Judd acted like a gentleman. He sent for me after his brother’s +funeral and said that he wanted to save his brother’s memory from +disgrace, and offered me a yearly income if I would keep my mouth +shut.” +</p> + +<p> +“The man who was killed was a clerk, was he not?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“He was a clerk,” said Fred slowly, “a clerk in the employ of the +Greenwich Insurance Company, who had blackmailed David Judd.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry whistled softly. +</p> + +<p> +“The Greenwich Insurance Company,” he said; “and blackmailed David! +Why, what crime had David committed?” +</p> + +<p> +Fred shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell you that, Mr. Holt. If I could, I would. But it was +something pretty bad, you can bet. Dr. Judd said that this clerk had +pinched a lot of money, and I think that’s true, because I remember +his playing, and playing very high, at Floquart’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, to cut this story short, I’ve drawn about four years’ income +from Dr. Judd. I’m not apologizing or trying to prove to you that I +acted like a little gentleman; that doesn’t interest you, anyway. The +other day I met the doctor at a wedding. He was invited, but I +wasn’t,” explained Fred shamelessly, “but that didn’t make any +difference: I went. He asked me if I’d go to dinner with him last +night at his house in Chelsea. He’s got a real fine house, has Dr. +Judd, full of wonderful pictures and sparklers. And as he was going to +pay me a lump sum to get rid of me, I decided to go. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a man at the doctor’s,” he said after a pause, “a valet. I +don’t want to give him away, Mr. Holt, but he’s an old lag and was in +the next cell to me at Portland.” +</p> + +<p> +“His name is Strauss,” said Larry. “He takes drugs, and has had three +convictions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you know that, do you?” said Fred in surprise. “Well, anyway, I +know him. I met him in Piccadilly the other day. He was going to fence +a few articles that he’d pinched from his boss, and he dropped me a +pair of sleeve-links——” +</p> + +<p> +Larry gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that is where they came from; they were Dr. Judd’s?” +</p> + +<p> +“I ain’t so sure that they were Dr. Judd’s,” said Fred. “From what I +have heard, the doctor has people who stay with him over week-ends, +and Strauss may have pinched them from one of these. Anyway”—again he +hesitated, finding it difficult to express his plans in such a manner +as would save him from the charge of ingratitude—“I had an idea of +helping myself to a few souvenirs of Dr. Judd before I went,” he +explained, “and I’d fixed it up with Strauss so that I could just look +over the premises and pick a few things that would remind me of my old +friend. So when I was asked to dinner, naturally I jumped at the +chance. I don’t say that I’d have gone alone to dinner, because the +doctor and me aren’t quite bosom companions; but he told me that there +was a lot of people coming, so I went. I was supposed to go at eight, +which is well after dark, but to the opposite side of the street, +because I was anxious to see Dr. Judd’s guests arrive before I got in. +I waited till eight and nobody came. I waited till half-past eight, +and then I saw the doctor come out and look up and down the road. I +was so hungry that I nearly went over to him, but I didn’t see myself +dining alone with a fellow that I’ve been swindling. So I waited and +waited, and presently a motor-car drove up and went straight to the +gates at the side of the house. I thought he was going to push them +in, but the moment the head-lamps touched the gates they opened. +‘That’s funny,’ says I to myself, and I crossed the road and had a +look over the top of the gate. It meant a bit of a climb, but I did it +without making any noise; and the first fellow that got out of the car +was that big stiff who tried to croak me in Jermyn Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“Blind Jake?” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never been introduced,” replied the other sardonically. “I saw +him plain for a minute because he passed in front of the head-lamps, +and then the lights went out and I saw nothing more. At ten o’clock +the gates opened—like magic it was, for there was nobody near +them—and a car came out. It passed me, going slow, and I ran behind +and jumped on to the luggage-carrier, which was down. I got off as it +went into the King’s Road, Chelsea, because there is a lot of light +there and a copper might have seen me and given me away. But there +were plenty of taxis about, and I hired one and told him to keep the +car in sight. I wanted to know where Blind Jake—that’s his name, is +it?—was living, and I didn’t have much difficulty in keeping the car +in sight. We went up past Victoria, along Grosvenor Place, up Park +Lane. I was afraid the car would turn into the park, for private cars +are allowed there but taxis aren’t, and I should have lost him. But, +luckily or unluckily, it didn’t. The car went up Edgware Road—Tyburn +Tree, where they hanged them in the old days, used to be there,” he +said, apropos of nothing. “I read that in a book when I was in stir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cut out those memories of Old London,” begged Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“I followed up close behind, and then the machine turned into some +side-streets,” said Fred, “and I took the risk of paying off the +cabman and following on foot. I know that district pretty well, and I +hadn’t been searching for ten minutes before I saw the car pulling up +against a gate which was set into a high wall. The driver must have +missed the way, because I was there almost as soon as the doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Judd? Was he there?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +Flash Fred nodded, and was very sorry for himself that he had done so. +It was some time before he could speak again. +</p> + +<p> +“If I don’t keep my blinking head still,” he said good-humouredly, “I +shall lose it. Yes, the doctor was there. I was close up to them; as a +matter of fact, I was standing behind the car when they all three got +out. Blind Jake was one; a fellow I didn’t recognize was another, and +the doctor was the third. He had a bag in his hand, and he seemed to +be a bit put out. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘I protest against being sent for at this hour of the night,’ he +said. +</p> + +<p> +“The other man, not Blind Jake, said something in a low voice which I +didn’t catch. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Why couldn’t you have got another doctor? Remember that you have +forced me to come here, and I come under protest. Where is this +woman?’ he asked, and I don’t think the reply was intended for my +ears, for the big blind man said, ‘In the boiler-house,’ and laughed, +and the other fellow turned to him with a curse and told him to keep +quiet. +</p> + +<p> +“They went through the gates, and presently the car moved on. I think +it had to turn, and the street wasn’t wide enough. The gate was locked +and it had been painted black, but I saw that the word ‘Laundry’ had +been there before the new coat had been put on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you notice the name of the street?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Reville Street,” said the other, to Larry’s surprise, and then he +remembered. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the street behind and running parallel with Lissom Lane,” he +said. “Go on, Fred.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I had to slip away; otherwise I should have been seen. I went +all round the house and came back behind it, just as the doctor came +out, and this time there were only two of them; the big blind man had +gone. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but presently I +heard the doctor say good-night and the car drove off. The other man +was looking after the tail-lights, and I had nothing to do but to +slouch past as though I had been coming along, walking all the time. +If there’s one bad habit that’s worse than another,” said Fred +reflectively, “it’s talking to yourself, whether you talk in your +sleep or while you’re awake. But there are some men who can’t help it. +There was a pal of mine in Barcelona—however, I won’t talk about him, +Mr. Holt. Well, this man that was left standing was one of that kind. +A brooder, I should think. And before I got opposite to him, I heard +him muttering, as he stood stock-still, his hands behind him, looking +after the car; and the words that I heard as I passed were these. I +remember them—sort of committed them to memory. And the words were: +‘Clarissa’s nurse.’ He said it twice. I walked on, never dreaming that +he’d spotted me, and as I walked I thought: ‘Now the best thing you +can do, Fred, is to go straight to Mr. Holt and tell him what you’ve +seen and what you’ve heard.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I was only a few hundred yards from your house, so I made up my mind +I’d do it. I hadn’t gone very far when I got an uncomfortable feeling +that I was being followed. I couldn’t see anybody, but I had that +creepy sensation that you get when the splits are after you, and I +couldn’t shake it off. I got into your street and began looking for +the block where your flat was. I passed it once and was directed back +here; and I think that the people who were following me must have +slipped in and got upstairs and were waiting for me when I came up. I +remember putting my hand up to the knocker of your flat, and then I +don’t remember anything more.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl had been writing rapidly, and now she closed her book. +</p> + +<p> +“I think that’s about all,” said Fred weakly. “I’d like a drink.” +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes later two motor-cars laden with plain-clothes officers +were on their way westward, and the inhabitants of the little street +upon which the laundry backed were interested spectators of another +raid. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this wall?” asked Larry of his assistant. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the wall of the laundry building proper,” said Harvey. “I +inspected it very carefully, but there was nothing there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see the boiler-house?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, it is a very ordinary underground room with one large +boiler and a steam engine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Get that door open,” said Larry. “You have got some men in Lissom +Lane to watch the other gate?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” reported the sergeant, and with an expert hand he +manipulated the lock and presently the door swung wide. +</p> + +<p> +The room into which the door directly led was in darkness. It proved, +when lights were obtained, to be a long brick shed, with a concrete +floor, and four rows of trestles down the centre, where, in the days +of the laundry, the washerwomen worked. A flight of steps, guarded by +a rail, went down to a lower floor, and Larry led the way into the +boiler-house. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch30"> +CHAPTER XXX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">IN THE TUBULAR ROOM</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">You</span> ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Blind Jake, shaking his +huge head. +</p> + +<p> +He sat huddled up at one side of the tubular room, and his remarks +were addressed to a wretched-looking woman who sat on the other side, +her arms folded on her knees, her head bent in dejection. She was +miserably clad; her hanging hair was streaked with gray, and her hands +and face were grimy. +</p> + +<p> +The room itself could hardly be described as a room. It was like an +enlarged gas main. The floor was littered with fragments of rubble and +broken concrete. One end was a steel door, just large enough for a +medium-sized person to squeeze through, and the other was a jagged +hole torn in the steel wall, and disclosing beyond a black void which, +in the light of the candle, was also littered with rubbish. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” reproved Blind Jake. “Here are +They doing all They can for ye, ye ugly old devil, and ye’re whining +and snarling! Like a pup who’s had his tail bit!” +</p> + +<p> +The woman moaned and said something. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d have something to snivel about if I had my way,” said Blind +Jake. “Don’t we feed ye? Didn’t we give ye a good bed to lie on, till +that dog came nosing about?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to go away,” said the woman. “You’re killing me here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet,” said Blind Jake with a chuckle. “Maybe they’ll want ye +killed, and then ye’ll be killed, sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to go out of this horrible place,” cried the woman with a sob. +“Why am I here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do ye want to be down with the rats?” growled Blind Jake. “Didn’t ye +squeak and squeal when I took ye down in the long passage under the +street, because the little fellows squeaked at you? And now ye’re safe +and sound where a rat couldn’t get ye, and to-morrow you’re going into +a nice house to live, with fine sheets on your bed. You ungrateful old +devil!” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her woebegone face and looked at the blind man curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“You talk about ’em as though they were gods,” she said. “One of these +days they’ll betray you——” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up!” snapped the man. “You don’t know ’em! What have they done +for me? They’ve given me a lovely life—all the money I want, +everything I can eat and drink. They gave me a young wife,” he +chuckled, but the chuckle ended with a hideous distortion of face. +“I’ll have her yet; she nearly killed me, that wench.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was she?” asked the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Never ye mind. Nobody ye know,” said Jake, but did not seem +disinclined to talk on the matter. “A young, white, sleek girl she +was,” he said. “They wanted her because she’s police, too.” +</p> + +<p> +She was silent for so long that he leant forward and touched her with +his big hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not having a fit, are ye?” he said with a note of anxiety. +“Not another one of them fits? We can’t always bring a doctor. The +next time I’ll rouse ye,” he said menacingly. “I’ll make ye wake.” He +shook her savagely. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m awake, I’m awake,” she said, terrified. “Please don’t do that; +you will break my arm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, behave yourself,” he grumbled, and then began to crawl slowly +toward the farther end of the tubular room. Even the woman, though she +was far from tall, could not have stood upright in that cramped space. +It was wonderful how a man so big could manœuvre himself through the +jagged hole in the steel and crawl into the space beyond. She heard +him tossing bricks about and enlarging the cavity at which he had been +working all the day. She wondered where she was, for she had been a +sick woman when she had been dragged into that terrible chamber, and +had no recollection of how she had come in. Only she knew that people +were searching for her, and that the awful forces which now held her +prisoner were determined that she should not be found. She had been +hidden in the depths of the earth, in hideous places alive with +terrifying life, and this at least was better. +</p> + +<p> +When he came back she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Stuart would give you a lot of money if you took me to him.” +</p> + +<p> +He chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +“Ye’ve told me that a hundred times, ye fool!” he said, and mimicked +her: “ ‘If you take me to Mr. Stuart he’ll give ye a lot of money!’ A +lot of money he’ll give me!” +</p> + +<p> +“I nursed his children,” she wailed, “and his poor wife. And when I +got married he gave me a beautiful wedding ring.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aw, shut up!” snarled the man. “Haven’t ye got anything more to talk +about? A hundred million times ye’ve told me about nursing his babies +and your blasted wedding ring!” +</p> + +<p> +“When I told him about Clarissa, he said he’d give me a thousand +pounds,” whispered the woman. “I was that surprised to see him I +nearly fell down!” +</p> + +<p> +Blind Jake ignored her. He had heard this story before, and it had +lost all its novelty. +</p> + +<p> +“He never knew about the twins, and thought he had no children alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“If ye hadn’t been a hook or a soak, y’ could have told him where she +was; but don’t worry yer head: They’ve found her. A fine lady she is, +with plenty of money! I heard ’em say that she was a fine lady with +plenty of money,” he added simply. +</p> + +<p> +His faith in these mysterious employers of his knew no bounds. +</p> + +<p> +“I was fond of my drop,” confessed the half-witted woman, “and they +sent me to prison for nothing at all. And the home was awful!” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Blind Jake lurched forward and dropped his hands upon her +shoulders. She opened her mouth to scream, but he put his face close +to hers. +</p> + +<p> +“If y’ squeal ye’re dead, my lady! Be quiet!” +</p> + +<p> +His sensitive ears had caught the sound of footsteps on the floor +above, though they were so completely deadened that none but a blind +man would have heard them. He crept closer to her side, put one great +arm around her shoulder, the other he held just in front of her face. +</p> + +<p> +“If y’ squeal, ye’re dead,” he said again, and then somebody knocked +at the little door at the end of the chamber and the voice of Larry +Holt demanded: +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anybody here?” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch31"> +CHAPTER XXXI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">FRED LENDS HIS KEYS</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It had</span> been Diana Ward who had called Larry’s attention to the great +rusty boiler at one end of the house, the boiler which had supplied +the steam and the power for the laundry. Larry tried the thick iron +door which opened into the furnace, but it was fast. He tugged again +and it did not move. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody could be here,” he said, shaking his head. “What do you think, +Harvey?” +</p> + +<p> +“They would suffocate anyway in there, sir,” replied Sergeant Harvey. +</p> + +<p> +The girl was looking distressed. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there nowhere else?” she asked. “I did hope——” +</p> + +<p> +She did not finish her words. +</p> + +<p> +“No, miss, we’ve searched the whole of the place now,” said the +sergeant. “Would you like that door forced open, sir?” he asked. “It +will take some hours.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t think so,” he said. “I am inclined to agree with you that +if anybody was concealed in the boiler, supposing there were room +enough, which is unlikely, they would die of suffocation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think,” asked the girl as they came away, “that Mr. Grogan was +telling the truth? I know he was,” she added quickly. “I don’t know +why I ask such stupid questions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he was telling the truth, all right,” said Larry. “Fred isn’t a +model of virtue, but in this case I believe him. It’s just the luck of +the game,” he said bitterly. “Sometimes I feel that I’m never going to +fathom this mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be solved, and solved within a week,” she said, and she spoke +with such assurance that he could only stare at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’re going to solve it,” he said, “for I have reached the +point, and it is the most dangerous point that a detective can arrive +at, when I am suspicious of everybody. Suspicious of Dr. Judd, of the +innocent Mr. Dearborn, of Flash Fred, the Chief Commissioner, and +you,” he added good-humouredly. But she did not smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I wondered how long it would be before you suspected me,” she said +gravely. +</p> + +<p> +She went off with Harvey and he returned to the hospital, for he had a +few more questions to ask the injured crook. +</p> + +<p> +Flash Fred listened attentively, and when Larry had finished: +</p> + +<p> +“God knows I have never trusted a policeman in my life,” he said +piously, “but I think you’re different, Mr. Holt. In one of my pockets +you will find the key of my safe deposit. The hospital people have the +clothes. It’s the deposit in Chancery Lane, and I’m trusting you,” he +said whimsically. “There are things in that box that I shouldn’t like +anybody to see, but you will find what you are looking for without +disturbing them. There’s a bundle of war stock,” he said uneasily, +“which I bought by the sweat of my brow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody sweated, I’ll bet,” said Larry cheerfully. “You needn’t be +afraid, Fred. I shan’t pry into your secrets, nor shall I use anything +I find there to jail you.” +</p> + +<p> +Fred was ill at ease. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew I was taking a risk when I told you about this business,” he +said, “because you were certain to go farther in it, and I was just as +certain to help you. If I’d been out and about, it would have been +easy, because I could have given you the keys.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are the keys?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re duplicates that I had made,” said Fred without a blush. +“Strauss got them from the doctor’s key-ring when he was asleep and +took the impressions. Strauss ain’t a bad fellow, but he dopes; I +never did hold with those evil practices,” said the virtuous Fred. +“You want a clean eye and a clear brain to get on in life, don’t you, +Mr. Holt?” +</p> + +<p> +“And eight nimble fingers, plus two nippy thumbs,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +He secured the keys without difficulty, and half an hour later he +walked into Room 47, humming a tune and jingling Flash Fred’s +nefarious possessions in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Diana, after a great deal of persuasion, had been induced to take up +her residence under Larry’s eye. The motherly nurse had become a +permanent institution at Regent’s Gate Gardens, a circumstance which +was not wholly to the liking of Mr. Patrick Sunny, who found himself +forced to sleep on a camp bed in the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to inconvenience you, Sunny,” said Larry Holt that night, +“and it is an inconvenience, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Sunny. “It is an inconvenience.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a painful one, I hope?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said Sunny. “It is not a painful one.” +</p> + +<p> +“The lady was in danger,” said Larry, and this Sunny knew because the +matter had been discussed very freely in his presence, “and it was +impossible to leave her in her apartment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” agreed Sunny. “What collar will you be wearing to-day, +sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Any old collar,” said Larry with a smile. “Anyway, Sunny, the lady is +safe sleeping in this flat.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said Sunny, and Larry was shocked, for it was the first +time in his life that Sunny had ever disagreed with him. +</p> + +<p> +“No?” he said incredulously. “Didn’t you hear what I said? I said the +lady is safe here.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said Sunny. “I’m very sorry, sir, and I beg your pardon.” +</p> + +<p> +“But no you mean, I suppose? Why isn’t she safe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you’re not safe, sir,” said Sunny calmly, “and if you’re not +safe, the lady’s not safe, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, have your own way,” he said; “and, Sunny——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you close the kitchen door to-night? I could hear you turning +around in your bed and it woke me up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, sir, I will close the kitchen door,” said Sunny, and in +truth he did. +</p> + +<p> +After Larry had gone to bed and the flat was in silence, Sunny carried +his little camp-bedstead into the hall, placed it so that its foot was +about fifteen inches from the door, balanced a broom, the head against +the door, the end of the handle resting on the bed, and then he +retired. But he shut the kitchen door. +</p> + +<p> +At two o’clock in the morning a key was placed noiselessly in the lock +and the door was pushed open a few inches, and the broom fell +ruthlessly on Sunny’s head. It might have brained him, but, by a +fortunate accident, didn’t. +</p> + +<p> +Larry heard three shots fired in rapid succession and leapt out of bed +and came into the passage, gun in hand. He saw an empty camp-bedstead, +an open door, but Sunny was gone. He ran down the stairs and met that +worthy man returning, leading by the collar a diminutive ruffian upon +whose evil face was stamped a twisted grin of pain, for he had a +bullet in the fleshy part of his leg. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring him in,” said Larry, and closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +Diana was standing in the passage when the man was marched through and +hastily withdrew, to reappear again at the informal inquiry which +Larry instituted. +</p> + +<p> +It was an inquiry prefaced by a respectful apology on the part of +Sunny. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, sir, for taking the loan of your pistol,” he said, +“and as to my bed being in the passage and disturbing you——” +</p> + +<p> +“Say no more about that, Sunny my lad,” said Larry with a grateful +glance at his valet. “We’ll talk about that afterwards. Now, my boy, +what have you to say for yourself?” He addressed the +unpleasant-looking prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +“He ain’t got no right to use firearms,” said the man hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +Larry thought his hoarseness was due to his emotion, but it would seem +that it was his natural voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m shot, I am! I was coming down the stairs as quiet and as peaceful +as possible when this fellow came out and shot me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Innocent child!” said Larry unpleasantly. He felt over the man’s +pocket and took out a long-bladed knife, the edge of which he tested +with his finger and thumb. It was razor-sharp. +</p> + +<p> +Larry looked at the man again. He was about thirty-five, +hollow-cheeked and sunken-eyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see your hands,” said Larry, and the man, with a scowl, put +them out. “Have you any convictions?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said the man sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Who sent you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Find out!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to find out,” said Larry softly, “and you will be a little +damaged in the finding. Who sent you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not going to tell,” said the man. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you will,” said Larry, and led him into the kitchen and shut +the door. +</p> + +<p> +When the police arrived ten minutes later they took charge of a very +shaky man. +</p> + +<p> +“He has told all he knows,” said Larry. “He was sent here to cover +another man who escaped. He swears he does not know who the other man +was, but it was evidently not Blind Jake.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you induce him to tell?” asked the girl, a little fearfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I threatened to wash him,” said Larry, and he spoke no more than the +truth. “It was not the threat of the washing, of course,” he +explained, “it was the being in that room alone with me and the fact +that I could strip off his coat without an effort, and the possibility +that the washing was merely a preliminary to some form of horrible +torture which I had invented which made him talk—his wound is +nothing, by the way. It will probably be healed by the time he sees +the divisional surgeon. And now I think we can all go to bed. I want +to see you, Sunny, before you retire for the night.” +</p> + +<p> +What he said to Sunny set that stolid man strutting for the rest of +the week. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch32"> +CHAPTER XXXII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A BREAKFAST PROPOSAL</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">A thin</span> white mist overhung the park and shrouded the deserted +stretch of Rotten Row, and the one or two riders who had come out at +this early hour for their constitutional merely served to emphasize +the desolation of the place. +</p> + +<p> +One of these horsemen was Sir John Hason, Chief Commissioner of +Police, who made it a practice to ride before breakfast, and he +neither expected nor invited company. He was, therefore, surprised and +a little annoyed when a horseman came up from behind him and, checking +his mount to a walk, fell in by Sir John’s side. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, Larry,” said John Hason in surprise. “This is an unexpected +apparition! I thought you were a ghost.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be that, too, one of these fine mornings,” said Larry, +“unless I’m jolly careful. I knew you would be riding, so I hired a +hack from the local livery stable and came out. Besides,” he said, “I +want a change of air and I want to talk outside the stultifying +atmosphere of your office.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything new?” asked Sir John. +</p> + +<p> +“There was an attempt at assassination last night, but that’s so usual +that I hate reporting it as a novelty,” said Larry, and told the story +of the two-o’clock visitation. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the queerest case I’ve ever heard about,” said Sir John Hason +thoughtfully. “Not a day passes but somebody new comes in. You still +attach importance to the charwoman?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“You know London better than I, John,” he said, for between him and +his old schoolmate there was no formality on such occasions as this. +“Who is Judd?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Judd!” laughed the Commissioner. “I don’t think you need worry +your head about him. He is a man of some standing in the City, though +I seem to have heard that his brother was rather a waster. The Judds +practically own all the shares in the Greenwich Insurance Company. It +is not a very big concern, but it has successfully resisted every +attempt on the part of the insurance trusts and the big companies to +absorb it. That shows character which I admire. They inherited the +shares from their father and built up what looked to be a very shaky +concern into a fairly prosperous business.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was looking at the board of directors last night,” said Larry. “It +is in the Stock Exchange year-book. I sat up after everybody had gone +to bed and tried to puzzle things out. Do you know that John Dearborn +is a director of that company?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dearborn the dramatist?” asked Hason quickly. “No, I did not know. Of +course, the directors in a company like that,” he smiled, “are merely +the nominees of Judd. Judd is a very good fellow, I am told, and +spends a lot of money in charity. He practically supports the Home +which Dearborn is running. He may have been given an ornamental +directorship in order to bring in a little money to his institute.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought of that, too,” nodded Larry. “Who is Walters?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never heard of him,” said John Hason. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s another director of the Company, and also an ornamental person, +I should imagine. And Cremley? Ernest John Cremley, of Wimbledon.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is most certainly an ornamental person,” said the Commissioner. “I +know him slightly, a man with very little brains and an insatiable +appetite for cards. Why do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because these two men are also directors of the Macready Theatre +Syndicate,” said Larry quietly. “Judd’s name does not appear, but +there is another strange name, which is probably a nominee of his.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we getting to?” asked the Commissioner. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re getting here,” said Larry, reining in his horse and bringing it +round so that he stood side by side and facing his chief, “that Judd +controls the theatre where Dearborn’s plays are produced. So there is +some association between Judd and the superintendent of the Blind +Mission in Paddington.” +</p> + +<p> +Sir John digested this fact before he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see that there is anything particularly blameworthy about +that,” he said; “after all, Dearborn is only the victim of Blind Jake, +and from what you told me in your report last night, Judd is the +victim of nobody except our friend Flash Fred. I can well understand +why the doctor wanted to save his brother’s name,” he went on. “Judd +adored that younger brother of his, thought he was the finest fellow +in the world. I have never seen a case where brothers entertained such +affection one for the other. The week David Judd died the doctor shut +himself up and would not see anybody. What the——!” +</p> + +<p> +The Commissioner’s note of startled surprise was justified, for Larry +had suddenly brought round his horse and was riding furiously across +the park, taking no small risk from the low railings he leapt. +</p> + +<p> +He had seen a figure, unmistakably tall, muffled to the chin in a +pea-jacket, slouching along the path that led to one of the gates of +the park. +</p> + +<p> +The man heard the gallop of hoofs and ran as straight and as swift as +a deer, gained the gates and ran out into the street. The gate was too +small for Larry to ride his horse through, and he flung himself off +and, leaving his mount to his own devices, he ran out into the street. +He saw no more than a car pull away from the kerb and move rapidly +eastward. +</p> + +<p> +He looked around for a cab, but there was none in sight, and with a +shrug he came back, found his horse, mounted and trotted slowly back +to where Sir John was sitting. +</p> + +<p> +“Where the devil did you go?” asked Sir John. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw a gentleman I am most anxious to meet,” said Larry a little +breathlessly. “One Blind Jake, who was taking his morning +constitutional in the park, with his car waiting to pick him up like a +perfect gentleman. If I had had a gun I would have given Tarling +another Daffodil Mystery to solve. I should have been glad to find +flowers for Blind Jake!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch33"> +CHAPTER XXXIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">LEW</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">When</span> he got back to the house Diana was dressed and sitting down to +breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you weren’t coming back,” she said with a little sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Why the sigh?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Because—I thought you weren’t coming back to breakfast,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He told her of the chase in the park. +</p> + +<p> +“That rather upsets my theory that Blind Jake is still at the Home or +at the laundry,” she said, “because the house is being watched, isn’t +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“On both sides,” said Larry. “But there are a dozen ways this fellow +could get out, and the fact that he goes for an early morning +constitutional, and the people who are behind him consider that his +health is of sufficient importance to put a car at his disposal, +rather proves that he is confined during the day.” +</p> + +<p> +They were alone, for the nurse chaperon had not finished dressing. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know how this case is going to end, Diana,” said Larry after +a little silence, “and this is a most prosaic moment to say what I +want to say, but—but—but after this case is ended, I don’t want you +to remain at the Yard.” +</p> + +<p> +She went a little pale. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean I am not satisfactory?” she said. “As a secretary?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very satisfactory, both as a secretary and an individual,” +said Larry, trying hard to maintain command of his voice. “I don’t +like your—I don’t like your working.” +</p> + +<p> +There was another silence. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I shall work after this case,” she said quietly. “I +thought of leaving, too.” +</p> + +<p> +This was an unexpected reply, and it filled him with a sense of panic. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not going away?” he asked, and she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re really a most inconsistent person. You dismiss me in one +breath and hope I’m not leaving you in another,” she said, and she was +treading on dangerous ground and was well aware of the fact. “After +all,” she went on, solemnly mischievous, “there are so many jobs where +competent girls are wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know a job where a competent girl is wanted,” said Larry, +swallowing something, “and her job is to look after a flat and share +the modest fortune of a detective-inspector who may be something +better one of these fine days.” +</p> + +<p> +She was helping herself to a triangular piece of toast when he spoke, +and she let the toast drop. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite know what you mean,” she faltered. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean,” said Larry. “I want to marry you—go to the devil!” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up open-mouthed, in time to see the door shut upon the +outraged Sunny. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m awfully sorry,” stammered Larry. “I didn’t mean that last remark +for you, dear. I really mean——” +</p> + +<p> +“I know what you mean,” she said, and laid her hand on his. “You mean +you want me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you so much,” said Larry, “that I can’t find words to make my +want plain.” +</p> + +<p> +She did not speak. She suffered her hand to stay under his, and her +eyes catching the distorted reflection of her face in the polished +coffee-pot, she laughed. Larry drew his hand away quickly, for he was +a sensitive man. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m rather a fool, I’m afraid,” he said quietly. She had not moved. +</p> + +<p> +“Put your hand back.” Her voice was no higher than a whisper, but he +obeyed. “Now tell me what you were saying. I was laughing at myself in +the coffee-pot. I don’t look like a person that anybody could propose +to at half-past eight in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then—then you know that you are being proposed to?” he said huskily. +</p> + +<p> +She nodded, and her shining eyes turned to meet his. +</p> + +<p> +“And—will you?” he asked, finding it difficult to frame the words. +</p> + +<p> +“Will I what—be proposed to?” she answered innocently. “I think I +will, Larry dear: I rather like it.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she was in his arms, and he was holding her tightly, tightly. +</p> + +<p> +And then Sunny came in, and they did not see him. He stole forth +silently and made his way to the landing outside the door and rang the +elevator bell. The girl who worked the elevator was a great friend of +his and supplied him with much information which was of value. +</p> + +<p> +“Louie,” he said, and he was more than usually sober, “can you tell me +where I can get lodgings near at hand? I think I shall soon be +sleeping out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sleeping out, Pat?” said the wondering Louie. (She called him Pat +because it was his name, but more because he had graciously permitted +her that liberty.) “Is your master getting a housekeeper?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so,” said Sunny very gravely indeed. “I think so, Louie.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry may have walked to the office that morning, or he may have +ridden, or floated. He had no distinct recollection of what happened, +or how he got there, except that he knew that Diana Ward was by his +side and that he was hopelessly, ridiculously, overwhelmingly happy in +his love. It had been the most extraordinary courting, and the +proposal had been as amazingly unconventional. He had pictured such a +scene, but it had been set in a quiet drawing room under shaded +lights, or in some bosky dell, or in the shade of an old tree along +some backwater of the ancient river. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at breakfast,” he said aloud, “oh, dear, no.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at breakfast?” repeated the girl. “Oh, you are thinking—— Yes, +it was funny.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was wonderful!” said Larry. “I feel all puffed up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’m going to take some of the puffed-up feeling out of you,” she +said calmly. “I want you to make me a promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll promise you anything in the world, Diana,” he said +extravagantly. “Ask me for the top brick off the chimney pots, or a +slice of the moon——” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing so difficult as that. I merely want to—— And yet perhaps it +will be more difficult,” she said seriously. “Will you promise me that +under no circumstances you will ask to be released from your +engagement?” +</p> + +<p> +He turned round to her, and almost stopped in his walk. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s an easy one,” he said. “Whatever makes you think I should want +to break off this wonderful——” +</p> + +<p> +“I know, I know,” she interrupted. “It’s very wonderful to me, and +yet”—she shook her head—“will you promise that whatever happens, +whatever be the outcome of the Stuart case, whether you fail or +succeed, whatever revelations come, you will not break your +engagement?” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise you that,” said Larry eagerly. “There’s nothing in the +world which would induce me to take back a word I’ve said. I am living +in mortal terror lest you discover how you are throwing yourself away +upon somebody who is not worthy of you. If you do, I swear I will sue +you for breach of promise! My fine feelings are not to be trifled +with.” +</p> + +<p> +When they reached Room 47 they found two men waiting in the corridor. +One was a plain-clothes officer, the other was a wizened little man +who sat pensively on a form, his hands on his knees, staring with +unseeing eyes at the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Larry stopped at the sight. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s this?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the girl penitently, “I should have told you—I +sent for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it’s Lew!” said Larry in surprise, and Diana nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“You told me that I could call for any witness I wanted,” she began, +and he stopped her. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, of course you can,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at the old man curiously, and Lew, oblivious of all things, +sat in his dark and silent world, consuming his own thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring him in,” said Larry. “How are you going to make him talk, or +convey our wishes to him?” He shook his head pityingly. “I never +realized before what a terrible affliction this combination of +circumstances might be,” he said. “Can you talk to him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so,” said the girl quietly, “but you must realize that he has +no idea where he is. For all he knows, he may still be in that +dreadful house of the blind, still under the care of the men who have +treated him so cruelly.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“When you said he was dead I thought you were mad,” he said; “but I +understand now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want a shotgun,” said the girl, “and I want a uniformed officer.” +She turned to Larry. “I am going to see whether I have forgotten all I +learnt in the Blind Hospital,” she said. She took the old man by the +hand and he followed her obediently. +</p> + +<p> +She caught his two wrists gently and raised them to her face. +</p> + +<p> +“A woman,” he said; then she took up the little vase of flowers on her +desk and held them under his nose. +</p> + +<p> +“Roses, ain’t they?” he said. “This is a hospital.” +</p> + +<p> +She beckoned the uniformed policeman who stood at the door and again +raised the old man’s hands, letting them rest lightly on the collar of +his tunic, and his buttons, then she raised them to his helmet. +</p> + +<p> +“A copper!” said Lew, and shrank back. +</p> + +<p> +She gave him the flowers again, and again raised his gnarled old hand +and brought it to her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m in a hospital and a policeman’s looking after me. Am I wanted for +anything?” +</p> + +<p> +She took his head between her hands and gently shook it. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not, eh?” he said, relieved. +</p> + +<p> +Larry was watching the play, fascinated. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I safe from them swine?” +</p> + +<p> +She took his head between her hands and forced him to nod. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want me to talk?” +</p> + +<p> +She repeated the movement, and pushed a chair up to him, guiding him +down to it. +</p> + +<p> +The plain-clothes officer had brought the gun and she took it from +him, and lifting Lew’s hand passed it lightly over the barrel and the +stock. He shivered. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s what they’ve done to me,” he said. “You want them for +that, don’t you? It was cruel hard on a blind man. What are you +pinching my left hand for?” +</p> + +<p> +Again she made him nod, then she pinched the right hand, and without +waiting for his question made him shake his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I see, I see,” he said eagerly. “The right hand is no and the left +hand is yes. Is there somebody here—high?” +</p> + +<p> +She signalled yes. +</p> + +<p> +“Do they want me to tell?” +</p> + +<p> +Again she signalled the affirmative, and he began his story. +</p> + +<p> +He and Blind Jake had been companions in misfortune. He had been a +slave to the big man, almost since his youth, and had lived a life of +terror, dominated by this extraordinary villain. +</p> + +<p> +“He done things that would make you curl up if you knew! Jake did,” +nodded Lew. “Things that I don’t like thinking about, that haunt me at +nights.” +</p> + +<p> +Then five or six years before Lew’s own brother had joined this +extraordinary band of criminals. +</p> + +<p> +“A fine big fellow he was, too,” said Lew proudly, “and he could see! +He used to go round the fairs pretending he couldn’t, but he had grand +eyesight, could read newspapers and books. A big chap, sir, with long +bushy whiskers down to here. A grand fellow was Jim, but a hook.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they had come under the influence of this extraordinary power, to +which Blind Jake was used to refer in reverent tones. They had been +sent to carry bodies from a house, and Jake had assisted, and so had +Jim and Lew. He didn’t know that they were murdered, but he thought +they were. +</p> + +<p> +“A clever gang they are. Why, six years ago, do you know what they +did?” He seemed almost proud of the genius of these terrible men. “We +chucked a man in the river with a weight round his legs. You’d think +they’d be suspicious, wouldn’t you, when they found the body? Not +they! What do you think the weight was attached to, guv’nor? A big +block of salt that fitted just round the cove’s legs, and as soon as +the salt dissolved, up he came.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was he alive when you put him in?” asked Larry, and the girl +shivered. +</p> + +<p> +The man could not hear, but he answered almost as though he could. +</p> + +<p> +“He may have been dead, I forget,” Lew went on. “He didn’t holler or +anything. God’s truth, I didn’t know they was going to put him in the +water! How was I to know? But in the water he went. And then Jim +disappeared. I don’t know what happened to him. He just went away and +we never saw him again. That was four years ago in May, as far as I +can remember.” +</p> + +<p> +Lew had got frightened after a while and began to suspect the danger +to himself, if he did not know it already, and was fearful of Jake and +his threats, more fearful of the mysterious vanishing of his brother. +He could not write Braille, but he had got a man in Todd’s Home, a +“straight ’un,” to write the message that he intended putting in the +pocket of the next victim. Possibly he had heard from Jake that there +was a “job” at hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I will go now,” said the girl, suddenly white. +</p> + +<p> +Larry took her out into the corridor and brought her a glass of water. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m quite all right,” she smiled bravely. “Go back and listen.” +</p> + +<p> +Lew was talking when Larry returned, and when he had finished, Larry +knew almost all there was to be known about the murder of Gordon +Stuart. +</p> + +<p> +That evening there was a conference of all heads of departments, +presided over by the Chief Commissioner. +</p> + +<p> +“We may not be able to convict on the evidence of this man,” said Sir +John gravely; “we will get the warrants if you like, but I think with +a little more rope, and the knowledge we have, we could catch them +red-handed.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry came back to his office—the girl had gone home—in time to hear +his telephone bell ringing. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that Mr. Holt?” said a strange voice. +</p> + +<p> +Now it is unusual to receive a call at Scotland Yard from anybody but +police or public officials because the numbers of the various +departments do not appear in the telephone book. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Inspector Holt,” replied Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Judd asks you whether you can come to his office at once. He has +something important to communicate.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry thought a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I will come immediately,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He picked up Harvey, and a cab deposited them at Bloomsbury Pavement. +</p> + +<p> +At this hour Larry expected the building to be deserted, but there was +a light showing in one of the upstairs windows. The long, narrow +vestibule was also illuminated. +</p> + +<p> +Larry walked quickly through the vestibule; the porter’s little recess +was empty. At the far end were the doors of two automatic lifts, one +of which was in position. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I come up with you?” asked the sergeant. +</p> + +<p> +There was no reason why he shouldn’t, and yet—— +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, stay here,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +He stepped into the lift and pushed the ivory button marked “Fourth +Floor” and the elevator jerked upward. At the fourth floor it stopped +and Larry, pushing open the grille, stepped out on to the landing. +Immediately opposite him was a glass door, behind which a light shone. +The words “Dr. Judd” were written legibly enough, and he turned the +handle of the door and stepped into an empty room. He called, but +nobody answered him, and, puzzled, he came back to the landing. +</p> + +<p> +Every sense in Larry Holt’s system was alert. Dr. Judd was not the +kind of individual who would indulge in a silly practical joke, or +attempt to hoax him. +</p> + +<p> +Then he had a mild surprise. He had come by the left-hand elevator, +which had now disappeared, and in its place was the right-hand lift, +which must have been on a higher floor when he had reached the +landing. What was more remarkable, the lift door was wide open. +</p> + +<p> +Who had come up? +</p> + +<p> +He looked along the corridor, but there was nobody in sight. +</p> + +<p> +“Is everything all right?” +</p> + +<p> +It was the hollow voice of Harvey coming up the elevator shaft. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m coming down,” said Larry, and stepped through the open grille +into the waiting elevator. +</p> + +<p> +His foot was poised, he was in the very act of bringing it down upon +the floor of the lift, when he realized in a flash that what he had +thought was solid wood flooring was no more than paint and paper. +There was no possibility of drawing back. His balance had shifted, and +the full weight of his body was thrown forward. +</p> + +<p> +He had the fraction of a second to think, and then, utilizing every +ounce of strength, every atom of impetus he could get from his left +foot, which still rested on the solid edge of the landing, he leapt +forward and gripped the moulding of one of the panels at the back of +the elevator. He had less than half an inch to hold on by, but by the +extraordinary strength in his hands he maintained his hold, even as +his feet crashed through the paper flooring and the whole weight of +his body was flung upon his finger-tips. He hung thus, suspended in +space, a fifty-foot fall upon the stone flags beneath him. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick, come up!” he shouted. “Fourth floor. I’m trapped!” +</p> + +<p> +He heard the rattle of the other lift and the whine of the motor, and +at the same time he heard another sound above him, and, glancing up, +saw a face looking down from the opening on the fifth floor. +</p> + +<p> +Then something whizzed past him and struck the panelling of the +elevator with a crash. For a second he nearly released his hold. He +felt the lift shaking unaccountably, and then, to his horror, the +ascending lift passed him. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, here!” he shouted. +</p> + +<p> +The face above seemed to be growing dimmer; but again he saw the hand +poised, something struck him on the shoulder, he released his hold and +fell. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch34"> +CHAPTER XXXIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">LARRY INSPECTS A HOUSE</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Larry</span> jerked open the gates on the ground floor, and staggered from +the lift-shaft to meet the dumbfounded Dr. Judd standing in an +attitude of surprise, and incredulity expressed on every line of his +countenance. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever has happened?” he demanded anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“A miracle!” said Larry, with a touch of grimness. “I seem to have +fallen about four feet. You sent for me, Dr. Judd.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I don’t understand what this is all about,” he said. “Will +you come up to my office?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think that is necessary,” said Larry. “You sent a telephone +message asking me to come here at once because you had something +important to communicate to me. I’m going up,” he said viciously. +“There’s a gentleman on the top floor whose acquaintance I should like +to make.” +</p> + +<p> +“I assure you, Mr. Holt,” said the doctor earnestly, “that I have +never sent for you or communicated with you in any way. I sent my +porter out on a message and then remembered that I hadn’t any +cigarettes and foolishly left this great building unattended. You +didn’t step into the wrong lift, did you?” +</p> + +<p> +A slow smile came to Larry’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“I rather fancy I did,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens!” gasped the doctor. “Why, you might have been killed!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t exactly know what happened as it is,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Only one lift is working,” explained the doctor. “Something went +wrong with the motors and we’re working them on balance. That is to +say, one elevator comes down while the other goes up. Taking advantage +of the fact that to-morrow is Sunday, the workmen were repairing the +floor of number two elevator, which has worn rather thin——” +</p> + +<p> +“And spread some pieces of paper and canvas in its place, I presume?” +said Larry, who was impolite and well aware of the fact. “Anyway, I’m +going up now,” he said, and they went together in the sound elevator. +</p> + +<p> +Harvey was halfway down to his chief, and they met him. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God you’re not hurt,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Larry shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I could have only been six feet from the ground when I dropped. I +didn’t realize that this infernal elevator was descending all the time +the gentleman was shying things at me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody throwing at you, sir? I thought I heard a bit of iron strike +the bottom of the shaft.” +</p> + +<p> +The elevator only went as far as the fourth floor. The upper floor was +reached by a stairway. Larry came up to the darkened landing to find, +as he had expected, that his assailant had gone. Which way he had gone +there was no need to ask, for in the ceiling at the end of the passage +was a square patch of light where a trap-door had been raised, and +beneath there was a pair of steps. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” said Dr. Judd, when they rejoined +him. +</p> + +<p> +He looked unusually pale and his voice quavered. +</p> + +<p> +“Some fool must have played a practical joke which might have had very +serious consequences. How did you save yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +But Larry was in no mood for narrative, and he left a perturbed Dr. +Judd with a curt “Good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“And to-morrow, Harvey,” said Larry, “I shall be at the office at +half-past nine, and I want you to be there to meet me. The clearing-up +process begins in earnest to-morrow and this day week, please God, +there will be no Stuart mystery.” +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” said Larry Holt at breakfast the next morning, and his tone +was at once paternal and apprehensive, “I said one large prayer last +night, and it was one of thankfulness that your prophecy is coming +true.” +</p> + +<p> +“About capturing the gang?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Something like that,” said he, rising. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going without me?” she asked in surprise as he rose from the +table. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he hesitated, “I am going to pursue a little clue which may be +a very big clue indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t come with you, I suppose?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, this is a job which I must do entirely on my own,” he said. +“Anyway, it is necessary that I should break the law to make my +investigations, and I cannot be responsible for leading you from the +straight path.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think it would worry me very much,” she smiled, “but you +don’t want to tell me, that’s it, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve guessed it first time,” said Larry. “The noble Sunny will look +after you and escort you to Scotland Yard, and he will be bulging with +weapons of a lethal character.” +</p> + +<p> +Sunny blushed, but recovered immediately. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said he, “I’m thinking of sending your overcoat to be +cleaned for the winter.” +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth has that to do with escorting Miss Ward to Scotland +Yard?” asked Larry in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, sir,” said Sunny, “except it will be very cold round about +November, and they take a long time to clean overcoats.” +</p> + +<p> +“In fact,” said the girl with a smile, “Sunny is being nicely domestic +and is taking a very optimistic view of the outcome of this case. +Where will this clue lead you?” she asked. “I’d rather like to know, +because——” She stopped. “Well, in case you are ever missing.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is leading me to Hampstead,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +She drew a deep sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“I was dreadfully afraid it was somewhere else,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He wondered why she was afraid, but it was not a subject that he +wished to pursue because he had lied outrageously. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour after he reached the Yard, two slightly soiled men in the +shabby uniform of the North Metropolitan Gas Company walked out the +Whitehall end of Scotland Yard, one carrying a bag of tools, and +boarded a bus. They were set down within a quarter of a mile of their +destination and walked the remainder of the journey, stopping to +survey the house wherein Larry had decided would be found the solution +of Gordon Stuart’s death. +</p> + +<p> +It was an unusual-looking house, bare and grim, with few windows, and +those heavily barred. +</p> + +<p> +“The man who planned that must have thought he was designing a prison, +sir,” said Harvey. +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe he was,” replied Larry. “Harvey, if what Lew the blind man told +us is true, then we have come to the end of the chase.” +</p> + +<p> +Harvey was shocked. +</p> + +<p> +“But this is only a look-over, sir,” he said. “You don’t really expect +to finish the case on this one inspection?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“When I enter that house I am pulling into material shape every dream +I have dreamt, every theory I have evolved. I stand or fall by the +result.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does Miss Ward know——?” began Harvey boldly. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the one thing that Miss Ward doesn’t know,” smiled Larry. +Crossing the road, he mounted the steps and rang the bell. +</p> + +<p> +The door was opened by a manservant, and to him Larry Holt spoke +shortly and with authority, and they were ushered into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Remember, you are to keep our visit a secret,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“You can depend on me, Mr. Holt,” said the man, who had turned a +sickly green at the detective’s appearance. +</p> + +<p> +The hall was wide and lofty, panelled in oak from the tessellated +marble floor to the ceiling. The only furniture was a table and a +chair, Larry noted. There were no lights visible, and he gathered that +illumination was furnished by lamps concealed in the cornices. Other +illuminations were furnished by a long, narrow window of frosted +glass, through which the shadow of the bars could be seen. There was +no stairway leading from the hall, but there was a doorway immediately +facing the street door, which Larry guessed concealed the staircase. +On the other side of the hall was a second door, and these were the +only apparent means of egress from the passage. +</p> + +<p> +He opened the door on the right and found himself in a large and +beautifully furnished <i>salon</i>. The walls were hung about with pictures +and tapestries, and on the polished floor were half a dozen Persian +rugs, which Larry could see were worth a fortune. +</p> + +<p> +There were six stained-glass windows in this room, and each was a +masterpiece. By their side hung heavy velvet curtains which could be +so drawn that the window excluded all light. One silver electrolier +hung in the middle of the apartment, and there were no other lights, +though here again Larry supposed that the main illumination came from +concealed lamps. +</p> + +<p> +He walked across to the big fireplace with its silver grate and +fixtures, and examined two letters which lay open upon a table by the +side of the big armchair. They were of no importance, and he continued +his search. +</p> + +<p> +From the main apartment another door opened on to a flight of stairs, +which led to a suite of bedrooms, a little drawing room, and a large +study, which was over the <i>salon</i> and covered practically the same +area. +</p> + +<p> +His search upstairs was more or less perfunctory, though his +examination of the corridor from whence the bedrooms gave was of a +more careful and exacting character. But he came down again to the +<i>salon</i>, satisfied in his mind that what had to be discovered was to +be looked for on the lower floor. +</p> + +<p> +He found the servant in the room when he came down and dismissed him +sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Go back to the hall,” he said, and sulkily the man obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +And now Larry gave every minute to an examination of the panelled +walls of the room—particularly that wall which was opposite the door +through which he and Harvey had entered. So cunningly had the +panelling been arranged that it was a long time before he found the +concealed door; and then it was not where he had been looking, but on +a level with the stained-glass window. He remembered then having seen +from the outside a small semicircular obtrusion from the main wall of +the building. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are, Harvey!” he said exultantly, as he pulled up a carved +wreath which seemed to be part of the wall’s decorations and disclosed +a tiny keyhole. He took the packet of keys from his pocket and tried +first one and then the other. At the fourth trial a lock slipped back +and the door opened inwards. +</p> + +<p> +He was right! He knew it at that moment. The joy of accomplishment set +his heart beating faster—the knowledge that he had at last a tangible +something to show, not to the Commissioner, not to his superiors, but +to the girl who was more to him than career or life, brought a new +colour to his cheeks and a brighter light to his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He was in a small bell-shaped apartment, with a domed roof, a room so +small that the door, when it was opened, touched the opposite wall. It +was made of concrete, and a flight of steps leading down to the cellar +were also of this material. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing that caught his eye was an electric switch and this he +snapped down, illuminating a lower landing. There was another door to +the left, and a further flight of steps which disappeared in darkness. +No effort had been made to conceal the keyhole of the door, and one of +his keys opened it. +</p> + +<p> +He found himself in a low-roofed concrete chamber, about five foot six +in height and, as near as he could judge, about ten feet square. He +searched for, and found, the electric switch and illuminated the +apartment. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of this, Harvey?” +</p> + +<p> +“What are they running?” asked Harvey in surprise. “An electric light +plant?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said, “this isn’t a light plant. I know very little about +machinery, but I have an idea that this gadget is a pump.” +</p> + +<p> +He examined the machinery more carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is a pump,” he said, “one of the type which is used in ships +to trim the ballast tanks.” +</p> + +<p> +A thick cable was suspended on brackets along the wall, and he felt +this gingerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Electric,” he said. “This is where he gets his power.” +</p> + +<p> +On the wall was a switchboard and what seemed an independent lever. He +examined this closely and before he went on to yet another machine. +</p> + +<p> +“And this is the ventilating plant,” he said, pointing to a +barrel-shaped instrument. “You notice the bad-air exhaust?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a thorough gentleman, this,” said Sergeant Harvey. +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” agreed Larry, and they walked out of the room, locking the +door behind them. +</p> + +<p> +“A door over there leading to the yard,” said Larry, pointing to the +wall opposite the machine-room. +</p> + +<p> +Harvey saw no door, but followed his leader down a further flight of +stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten steps,” Larry warned, and then he came against a door. A heavy +door of ferro-concrete hung upon hinges of toughened bronze. This +Larry confirmed before he went any farther. He expected to find +bronze, and would have been surprised if the hinges had been made of +any other material. He had two fears: one that the doors would be +fitted with bolts, and the other that they were impossible to open +from the inside. This latter fear, he saw, was groundless, for the +keyhole was covered from the outside by a screw cap. He twisted the +cover off and opened the door. It swung back heavily, and he measured +the edge. +</p> + +<p> +“Four inches thick!” he said grimly. “He takes no chances.” +</p> + +<p> +Behind the first door was another of steel, and this, too, he +unlocked. And now he paused and he felt his breath grow laboured. +</p> + +<p> +“Take note of this room to which we are coming,” said Larry Holt, “for +it was here that Gordon Stuart died!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch35"> +CHAPTER XXXV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE DEATH ROOM</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">He carried</span> a flash-lamp in his hand, but it was some time before he +discovered the switch, which was set high in the wall, near the +sloping roof of the stairs on the farthermost side of the door. A +click, and the void before them was illuminated. He could see nothing +from where he stood save a brass bedstead destitute of clothing. Down +two steps and three paces along a narrow passage, and he was in the +room. Floor, roof, and walls were of cement-work, and he saw that what +he had thought was one was really two rooms, the second being fitted +up roughly as a bathroom. There were no windows of any kind, and he +had not expected them. The air was heavy and stale, and evidently the +two ventilators near the ceiling were not in working order. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not the bathroom nor the bedstead to which his eyes +strayed; it was to a great block of granite in the centre of the room. +In the stone, which was a cube two feet in each direction, was a large +steel bolt, and from this bolt ran a thin rusted chain, also of steel. +Each yard of the chain ran through a block of lead, which Larry judged +to be ten pounds in weight, and there were three of these. The chain +terminated in a brass leg-ring. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Larry, “I think so.” +</p> + +<p> +He picked up the ring and examined it, and, trying first one and then +the other of his keys upon the little lock, the opening of which was +protected by a sliding cover, presently he saw the two catches snap +back, and heaved a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God for that!” he said. “I was afraid I’d missed the key.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked round at Harvey and Harvey’s face was a study. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this, Mr. Holt?” he asked, bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +“The operating room of the ‘Dark Eyes,’ ” replied Larry briefly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say that these devils——” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. He was walking around the walls, looking for a place +where he could conceal the waterproof bag he carried in his pocket. +There was not so much as a crack into which it could be hidden, for +the big holes set in the wall near the floor at regular intervals +were, he knew, of no value for his purpose. Then his eye fell upon the +granite block, and, exerting all his strength, he pulled at it. Slowly +it canted away. There had been no necessity to cement to the floor a +block of that weight. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me a hand to ease this down, Harvey,” he said, and the two men +lowered the block on its side. +</p> + +<p> +It had fitted truly, and its base was perhaps only an inch deeper than +the floor. Where it had stood the workmen had not taken the trouble to +make its foundations secure, and there was a depression in the cement, +irregular and shallow, but large enough for Larry’s purpose. He took +the waterproof bag—it was no more than a sponge bag—from his pocket +and began to drop various articles into the bottom. Key followed key +and then: +</p> + +<p> +“A handcuff key, if you’ve got one, Harvey,” he said. “I left mine in +my room.” +</p> + +<p> +Harvey found a handcuff key in his waistcoat pocket and passed it +across to his superior. +</p> + +<p> +“And this, I think,” said Larry, and took something from his pocket +and placed it in the bag. +</p> + +<p> +He smoothed the bag and its contents as flat as possible, and it just +fitted into the depression. Then the two men lifted the stone and put +it back in its place. +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask,” said the bewildered Harvey, “what is the idea?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry laughed, and his laugh sounded hollow in that dreadful room, +which had never heard laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the servant in this?” asked Harvey. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m perfectly sure he isn’t. This gang wouldn’t trust a servant,” +replied Larry. “No, he probably keeps to his own part of the house, +and doesn’t even enter the reception room except when his boss is at +home, unless he is sent for. If you notice this house, it has been +built for a specific purpose. For example, the room has a vacuum +bracket in the wainscot, there is an electric lift from the kitchen, +and a private stairway to the bedrooms and study upstairs. My theory +is, but I haven’t time to confirm it, that the servant lives in +practically a house of his own, which has no connection with this part +of the building. Did you notice a door opposite what I would call the +engine-room? It wasn’t easy to spot because it looked like the rest of +the wall. In reality, it is of iron, camouflaged as concrete. It is on +the ground level and leads to the yard at the side of the house, and +incidentally to the garage.” +</p> + +<p> +Harvey shouldered his tools. +</p> + +<p> +“This is a horrible place, Mr. Holt,” he said with a shudder. “In all +my thirty-five years of police experience I have never been +so—shocked. It sounds silly to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bit,” said Larry quietly. “I am shocked beyond words.” +</p> + +<p> +“You really think that that is the place where these people have been +done to death?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m certain of it,” said Larry. “In that room Gordon Stuart went over +to the other side.” +</p> + +<p> +They went back in the hall now. By the side of the door there was a +narrow slit of a window covered by a strip of silk casement cloth, and +Harvey went to this and pulled it aside. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a car at the door,” he said. “Just come up.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry stepped to his side and looked. A man had descended from a +taxicab and was paying the driver. +</p> + +<p> +“The Reverend Mr. Dearborn,” said Larry. “How interesting!” +</p> + +<p> +Larry hesitated only for a second, then he opened the door, and the +Rev. John Dearborn, who had turned from the cab, and whose hand was on +the spikes of the gate, bent his head suddenly as though he had +remembered something, and beckoned the cabman. +</p> + +<p> +“My friend,” he said, “I cannot see you, but are you still there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” replied the cabman. +</p> + +<p> +“I have remembered that I wish to call at the post office. Will you +take me there?” +</p> + +<p> +His hand groped out and the cabman took it, and leaning back opened +the door again. +</p> + +<p> +Before Larry could get down the steps the cab was on the move. The +detective turned back with a little smile. +</p> + +<p> +“David Judd can wait,” he said softly. +</p> + +<p> +“David Judd?” said Harvey. +</p> + +<p> +“David Judd!” repeated Larry Holt. “Who said this is not an age of +miracles, when the blind can see as John Dearborn sees, and David +Judd, dead and buried, is rollicking round London in a taxicab? +Harvey, there’s a great detective in this city.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is, sir,” said Sergeant Harvey heartily. “And the name of the +same is Holt.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t, but it will be,” said Larry softly. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch36"> +CHAPTER XXXVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE WOMAN IN THE GARAGE</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Wait</span>!” said Larry. He was on the point of leaving the House of +Death. “We may not get another opportunity of making a leisurely +examination of these premises. I am curious about the side door.” He +led the way to the secret door in the <i>salon</i>, closing it behind him, +then down the steps he passed and paused opposite the engine-room. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the door to the yard, I think,” he said, and switched his +flash-lamp over the wall. +</p> + +<p> +The keyhole was difficult to find, but he discovered it after a while +near the floor in the bottom right-hand corner. As he had expected, it +opened on to a covered passageway from the road. +</p> + +<p> +“Clever work,” he said in honest admiration. +</p> + +<p> +He was in the yard looking at the wall through which he had come. +Nothing like a door was visible. Instead he looked upon something +which had the appearance of a window made up of four opaque panes. It +stood out from the wall in the most natural fashion, a trim window-box +filled with flowers on its ledge. +</p> + +<p> +“Not much like a door!” said Larry, and added, “Clever work!” +</p> + +<p> +He walked back to the gate and examined it closely. Then he returned +to Harvey. +</p> + +<p> +“The mystery of the automatic gate is solved,” he said. “As I +suspected, it is possible to reach the house and enter the yard and +garage without the servants knowing anything at all about it. The last +time I was here, I noticed what looked to be two peep-holes placed at +a distance of four feet apart and rather low. They couldn’t have been +intended for purposes of observation because they were backed with +iron. Did you notice anything about that car we saw in the laundry +garage?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Harvey, “there were two bars sticking out in front +under the head-lamps,” and Larry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought at first,” he said, “that it was some new kind of motor-car +invention, but it is clear now just what they are intended for. A car +is driven up to the gate, and those two bars fit in what I called the +peep-holes; a lock is pressed back and the door opens, and presumably +closes behind them, thus dispensing with the attendance of any +servants and avoiding the inconvenience of their coming and going +being noted by the people in the house. I think we will look at the +garage, and then we will go,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The door of the garage was at the far end of the drive and extended +across its whole width. Larry searched amongst his keys, and presently +he found what he was looking for. +</p> + +<p> +“I wondered what door this tumbler lock was on,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He slipped the key in the hole and turned it, and as he did so he +heard a slight movement within the garage. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you hear that?” he said in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +Harvey nodded, and drew his truncheon. Then suddenly Larry threw open +the gates wide. He saw a car, but apparently the garage was empty of +people. The wheels of the car were wet. +</p> + +<p> +“That came in this morning,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +There was no place where the smallest of men could conceal himself, he +thought. And then he heard a scream, shrill and painful, the scream of +someone in agony, and he sprang to the door of the big limousine and +pulled it open. Then a tornado loosed itself at him—a great, +gibbering shape leapt at the two men and by sheer weight flung them +down, dropping his huge mass upon them. +</p> + +<p> +Larry was stunned for a second, and then, as he struggled to his feet, +he heard the door of the garage slammed and the click of the lock as +the key was turned. The two men threw themselves at the door, but it +did not give an inch. +</p> + +<p> +“The woman!” cried Harvey suddenly, and pointed to the car. +</p> + +<p> +There was an inert heap lying there, and Larry leapt on to the step +and, lifting her out in his arms, carried her to where a ray of light +penetrated from the small roof window. +</p> + +<p> +It was a woman of fifty, gray and bedraggled. Her face had not known +soap or water for weeks; her hands were almost black. But now through +the grime her white face showed in a deathly grin, and the claw-marks +of Blind Jake stood out in purple relief upon her lean throat. +</p> + +<p> +“Get some water, Harvey; there’s a faucet there,” said Larry, +loosening the woman’s blouse. “She’s alive,” he said. And then he +realized. “My God!” he said in a low voice. “It is the charwoman!” +</p> + +<p> +Whilst he attended to the poor wretched creature, Harvey had searched +the garage and had discovered an axe. In five minutes the lock was +smashed and the door was open. +</p> + +<p> +“Take this gun,” said Larry, slipping his revolver from his pocket. +“It hasn’t been much use to me, but if you see that swine, shoot him. +Don’t argue with him or think you can stop him with your truncheon, +Harvey.” +</p> + +<p> +But Blind Jake had gone, as he knew. That blind man, with the most +precious of his faculties destroyed, had again been a match for him. +</p> + +<p> +The woman was showing some signs of a return to life. Larry had +dragged her into the air and was sprinkling water on her neck and +face. Her eyes fluttered and opened, and she looked up with a frown. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Miss Clarissa?” she asked thickly. +</p> + +<p> +“That is what I am going to ask you,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +The cab came soon after, and they carried the woman through the side +door, up the steps, and through the beautiful <i>salon</i>. They paused to +set her down in the reception room, and Larry looked round at the +evidence of comfort and luxury, bought with the suffering and misery +of God knows how many innocent souls who had died that this villainy +should be gilded and scented and live in fragrance. +</p> + +<p> +Then his eyes dropped upon the incongruous figure that lay on a +thousand-pound Persian rug, who had done no harm but know and +recognize Stuart, and must for that reason be condemned to hide in +dark places under the care of a fiend like Blind Jake. +</p> + +<p> +Strauss, the ex-convict butler, waited in the hall, nervously rubbing +his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not in this, are you?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said the man shakily. “I thought when you came that my +gentleman had sent you, because I had—found a few things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Like a black enamelled link, eh?” said Larry. “How many pairs did he +have of those?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two pairs, sir. I had to tell him when he asked me what had become of +them, because really I did not steal them—he had half given them to +me because three of the brilliants were missing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry, Strauss,” said Larry. “He has got them back now, though +he had to burgle a pawnbroker’s to get them.” +</p> + +<p> +A knot of idlers gathered on the pavement to watch the spectacle of +two, apparently officials of a gas company, carry an unsavoury woman, +who looked seventy, down the steps into the cab. +</p> + +<p> +She had recovered consciousness before the cab had gone far, and was +trembling violently, looking from one to the other of the men. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re all right now, Emma,” said Larry kindly. +</p> + +<p> +“Emma?” she repeated. “Do you know me, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know you,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’m safe?” she said eagerly. “Oh, thank God for that! You don’t +know what I’ve been through! You don’t know what I’ve been through!” +</p> + +<p> +“I can guess,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you taking her?” asked Harvey in a low voice. “I didn’t +hear what you told the cabman.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am taking her to my flat,” said Larry, and Sergeant Harvey looked +his surprise. “I can’t afford to fill the hospitals with the witnesses +for the crime,” said Larry with a faint smile. “And, besides, this +woman is not ill; she’s just tired and hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” said Emma eagerly. “I know I must look terrible, but +they never gave me a chance of washing myself. They dragged me from +one hole to another. I’m not a common woman, sir, although I’ve done +charwoman’s work. I was nursemaid and brought up a little girl, +sir—the daughter of my missis. Brought her up like a lady, sir. +Little Clarissa Stuart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Clarissa Stuart?” +</p> + +<p> +“I called her Clarissa, sir,” said Emma. “If I could only see her +again!” +</p> + +<p> +“You called her Clarissa,” said Larry slowly. “Was not that her name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said the woman. “Clarissa Diana, but I used to call her +Diana.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry started back as though he had been shot. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your name?” he asked in a husky voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Emma Ward, sir. Diana Ward I called the young lady, but Diana Stuart +is her real name, and her father is in London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Diana Stuart!” repeated Larry slowly. “Then Diana Stuart is the +heiress to whom Stuart left his money. Diana Stuart!” he repeated in a +tone of wonder. “My Diana!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch37"> +CHAPTER XXXVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE HEIRESS</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mrs. Emma Ward</span> had told him practically all there was to tell about +herself before the cab had drawn up at the entrance of the flat. +</p> + +<p> +It was she who had failed to register the birth of Diana and her twin +sister, and this failure had, curiously enough, saved her life; for +when the gang had discovered, as they did a few hours earlier than +Larry, that Gordon Stuart had left an enormous fortune to the daughter +whose existence he had discovered through an accidental meeting with +the charwoman at Nottingham Place, they lost no time in securing the +one witness who could prove the legality and the circumstances of +Diana’s birth. +</p> + +<p> +Never had Larry so congratulated himself upon any event as he did upon +the fact that he had engaged a chaperon for Diana. Once before had +that nurse been useful; and now she took charge of the unhappy woman +who, to the scandal of the neighbourhood, he brought to his flat; and +it was a presentable and tidy lady of middle age who came into his +sitting room an hour after her arrival within reach of hot water and +clean towels. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going now to see Miss”—he baulked at the word—“Miss Stuart,” +he said. +</p> + +<p> +The woman started. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know where she is?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Larry, “I know! She has been with me for——” He was +on the point of saying “years” and honestly believing the word he +framed; and then, with a queer sense of surprise, he realized that +weeks, and very few weeks at that, would most accurately describe the +length of his friendship with “Miss Diana Ward.” +</p> + +<p> +He had thought of telephoning the news to her, but somehow he wanted +to tell her himself; and there were other things he had to say—things +which were hard to think about. He thought it all over on the way to +the Yard. Diana Ward, poor and dependent, was a different girl from +Clarissa Stuart, an heiress to millions of dollars. He could ask Diana +Ward to marry him and look forward with happiness to a union where +each brought to the other only the treasure of love. Diana Stuart was +a rich woman. He did not doubt that she would be sweet and generous +and desirous that the marriage should go through; but after a time she +would realize how enormous were the possibilities which great +possessions offer. And then she would regret in a nice way, he told +himself; for he defended her even as he accused her. And that was the +end of the case, he thought. Kudos would come to him, though he could +take no credit for that; and the long-deferred promotion—that also +would come and he would sit in the office, an Assistant Commissioner, +and exercise his function. But all the success he had secured was +Diana’s. Hers was the brain that had disentangled the knottiest of the +problems and had made the tangle of clues into one straight case. +</p> + +<p> +It was curious that he did not also credit her with having discovered +even more. Perhaps it was the natural vanity which is latent in all +men which made him guard so jealously the claim to one +achievement—the discovery of her identity. +</p> + +<p> +The end of the case! And the end of all hope for him, as he knew. +There was never another woman in the world like Diana Ward. She was +the first in his heart and should be the last. He had renounced her in +his mind and had drawn a gray veil over the future by the time he +stood outside Room 47 with his hand upon the door-knob, hardly daring +to turn it because of the loss which would be his. And his first words +expressed aloud the thought that followed that moment of hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Diana,” he said, “I am the most selfish brute in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +She showed all her white teeth in a silent laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“I waited for you for over an hour,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” he gasped. “I was taking you to lunch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she nodded, “that was what you were talking about?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to Heaven it was,” he said. “There I am again, thinking of +myself and being sorry for myself, when I ought to be on my knees, +thanking Heaven for the good fortune which has come to you.” +</p> + +<p> +She jumped up. +</p> + +<p> +“You have found Emma!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I have found Emma Ward,” he replied slowly, “and I have +found—Clarissa Stuart.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked toward her, both hands outstretched. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear, my dear,” he said, “I am so glad for you.” +</p> + +<p> +She took the hands in hers and lifted one to her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you glad for yourself, too?” +</p> + +<p> +He was silent, and she looked at him quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Larry,” she said, “I have known all about this for days and +days—ever since the day I fainted at that boarding house in +Nottingham Place. Don’t you remember?” +</p> + +<p> +He frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. But why——” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you silly,” she said, “I knew it was Aunt Emma’s ring. I always +called her ‘aunt,’ though I knew she was not my aunt. And then I +guessed who Gordon Stuart was. I knew nothing would make her leave her +wedding ring behind. Do you know where she went in such a hurry?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“To find me,” she said simply. “I guessed that. I knew it +instinctively before I had heard of that ring. My father gave it to +her. She used to tell me how she was married when she was in my +father’s service, and how my father presented her with this strange +wedding ring for all she had done for my mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“You knew!” he said wonderingly. “But you never told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You went on a chase to-day”—she lifted her finger reproachfully and +shook it in his face—“and you never told me! You said you were going +to Hampstead and you went to Chelsea.” +</p> + +<p> +“You knew that, too?” he gasped. “Do I get any credit out of this +infernal—this case?” he corrected quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“You get me,” she said demurely. +</p> + +<p> +He pressed her hands together. +</p> + +<p> +“Diana, I’ve got a serious talk coming with you, and it’s about——” +</p> + +<p> +“I know what it’s all about,” she said. “You can save yourself the +trouble. You can’t marry a rich woman because you’re afraid she’ll +want to keep you. You would much rather marry a poor woman—and keep +her, if she would submit to that indignity.” +</p> + +<p> +There was fun in the eyes that were raised to his. +</p> + +<p> +“Larry!” She shook his hands with quiet impatience. +</p> + +<p> +“It makes a difference, doesn’t it?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not to me, Larry,” she replied. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter.” She +dropped his hands and walked back to her table. “Because you’ve +promised.” +</p> + +<p> +“Promised? What have I promised?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hear this man!” she scoffed. “You promised me that, whatever +happened, whatever was the outcome of the Stuart case, it would make +no difference to our marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you know?” he asked in astonishment. “Was that why you made me +promise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I knew. I’ve been a rich woman for quite a long time, and +I’m so used to the feeling that I can hardly restrain myself from +taking a cab whenever I see one!” +</p> + +<p> +He walked over to her and laid his arm about her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Diana——” he began, and then asked: “Or is it Clarissa?” +</p> + +<p> +“Diana, always,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +“And always.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch38"> +CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE END OF JAKE</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> man who called himself the Rev. John Dearborn sat behind the +locked door of his study and methodically burnt papers in a little +fireplace that was at the back of his chair. His blue glasses he had +dispensed with, and under his eyes, keen and alert, the heap of +manuscripts, old letters, receipts and other data, were sorted, and +melted away until there was only a package left small enough to go +into his pocket. He slipped a rubber band round these and put them on +one side. Then he took up a heavy wad of manuscripts and dropped it +into an open bag which was beside his desk; and as he sorted and read +and destroyed, he whistled a little tune thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +From one of the drawers in the desk he took out a thicker package of +manuscript bound in a stiff cover. He turned the leaves of this idly, +and sometimes the excellence of the writing induced him to read on and +on. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s damned good,” he said, not once but many times; for John +Dearborn was a great admirer of the genius of John Dearborn. +</p> + +<p> +At last, with an air of reluctance, he closed the manuscript volume +and put that more reverently in the bag. +</p> + +<p> +The house was empty, for the hawkers had not begun to stray back; and +except for the little man who acted as doorkeeper and kept the Home +swept and garnished, and the old cook, who was dozing in her kitchen, +the Home was deserted. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he finished his packing and patted first one breast-pocket +and then the other, until he found the letter he wanted. He took it +out and studied it for a while. It was a brief, hand-written note +which Larry Holt had written to him the day after his first visit to +Todd’s Home. He took up his pen and, with one eye on the copy, he +fashioned a word taken from the letter, and compared the two efforts. +Then from the open writing-case which lay on the desk he extracted a +sheet of headed notepaper and began to write slowly and laboriously, +and all the time he wrote he whistled his gay little tune. He finished +at last and addressed an envelope, also taken from the writing-case; +and when this was blotted, and the letter sealed and put into his +pocket, he strapped the case and placed it on the floor by the side of +his bag. Then he unlocked a wardrobe let into the wall and took out +some clothing, which he laid on the back of a chair; and now he was +singing with soft <i>diminuendo</i>, yet with evident enjoyment, one of the +“Indian Love Lyrics.” +</p> + +<p> +He stripped his sombre clerical garb, tore away his white choker +collar, and began to dress. He was a man about town now in smartly +tailored tweeds; and he put the clerical costume into the wardrobe and +shut the door. Then he sat down at the table, his face in his hands, +thinking, thinking. +</p> + +<p> +He had dressed almost mechanically, and he had a strange feeling of +dissatisfaction. All the exits would be guarded; even the panel, the +roof-path, the way through the boiler-room. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m mad,” he said, getting up. +</p> + +<p> +He looked down at the bag and the writing-case, and there was regret +in his expression. He peeled his coat and slowly undressed again. This +time he did not go to the wardrobe, but to a long black box under the +window, and he took out various articles of attire and viewed them +with distaste. +</p> + +<p> +“A wretched mountebank,” he called himself, and was genuinely +contemptuous. +</p> + +<p> +But it had to be this or nothing. Blind Jake could find his way by the +underground channel. He had the sharp instincts of the blind, could +walk like a cat past the sentinels, and even creep through narrow +passages where it seemed impossible that his big frame could go. +</p> + +<p> +John Dearborn dressed and took up a canvas bag from the box, laying it +on the table. He turned the contents of his leather grip into this +bag, then went to the front room of the Home and looked out into the +street. Two policemen, he knew, were guarding the end of the +cul-de-sac. Nobody used this front room except himself, for storing +odds and ends of furniture, old account-books, and the like; but it +had the advantage of possessing a door which was only a few feet from +the front door. +</p> + +<p> +He put down his sack and came out, closing the door carefully, before +he went back to his study and locked himself in. He sat there for ten +minutes waiting, and then came a gentle tap-tap on the panel. He +crossed the room noiselessly, opened the door just wide enough for the +caller to slip through. +</p> + +<p> +It was Blind Jake, and his face was strained and puffed, and on his +broad forehead the blue veins stood out. +</p> + +<p> +“I only just got here, governor,” he said breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +The other was eyeing him with a steely look. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing here, Jake?” he asked softly. “I told you not to +leave the woman under any circumstances until I came.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you didn’t come, master,” said the blind man. It was pathetic +to hear the pleading, the humility, in his tone. His blind eyes were +fixed on the cold man whom he loved so well and had served as men +serve fate. A great, rough, cruel hound of a man, strong enough to +crush and maim the master he worshipped, yet ready to cringe and whine +at a sharp word. Blind Jake had given all for John Dearborn, had been +the readiest minister of his vengeance and the slave of his cupidity. +Blood was on his hands, and there were nights when strange faceless +shapes came in and out of his room and were visible. Cold hands +touched him on these nights, cold stiff fingers felt for his throat, +and he could feel the rough wipings of sodden sleeves and the +drip-drip-drip of water. +</p> + +<p> +But, none of these things mattered. The sweat poured down his puckered +face, his big lips were dropping, and perhaps the blind man felt some +thrill in the atmosphere, for he asked with a little whine: +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything wrong, governor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the woman?” asked Mr. Dearborn, and his words dropped one by +one, like steel pellets. +</p> + +<p> +Blind Jake shifted uneasily on his seat. +</p> + +<p> +“I left her. I couldn’t do——” +</p> + +<p> +“You left her!” Another tremendous pause. “And they found her, eh?” +John Dearborn’s voice had grown very soft. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they found her,” said the man. “What could I do? Governor, I’d +have done anything for you. Haven’t I used my strength for you, +master? There’s no one as strong in the world as me, old Blind Jake. +There’s no one who can work as cunning as I can! Haven’t I worked for +ye; haven’t I carried ’em out for ye? Haven’t I croaked ’em for ye, +with these hands, master?” +</p> + +<p> +He held them out: great cruel hands, knotted and roughened, their +backs speckled brown, their palms yellow with callosities. +</p> + +<p> +“You lost Holt,” said Dearborn calmly, dispassionately, as a judge +might speak. “You lost that woman. You lost the girl. And you come and +talk to me of what you have done.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve done my best,” said the man humbly. +</p> + +<p> +“And they’ll catch you, too. And you can talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll have my tongue torn out before I talk against you,” said Blind +Jake violently, and smashed his fist down on the table so that it +cracked and quivered. “You know that I’d die for you, master?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dearborn. +</p> + +<p> +He slipped his hand, the left hand that had no little finger, under +his coat, and pulled out a short, ugly automatic pistol of heavy +calibre. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll talk,” he said. “You’re bound to talk, Jake.” +</p> + +<p> +The man leant forward, his big face working convulsively. +</p> + +<p> +“If I die——” he began. And then John Dearborn, taking deliberate +aim, fired three shots, and that great mountain of muscle swayed and +slipped by the table into a heap on the ground. Blind Jake’s day had +come. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch39"> +CHAPTER XXXIX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE GET-AWAY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dearborn</span> slipped the revolver in his pocket, unlocked the door, and +stepped out. The little man who acted as porter was standing, his +mouth agape. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s wrong?” he said quickly. “Who’s shooting?” +</p> + +<p> +“Go out and fetch the police,” said John Dearborn calmly. “Somebody +has been killed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my heaven!” whispered the little man. +</p> + +<p> +“There are two policemen at the end of the road. Hurry,” said John +Dearborn sharply, and listened to the flip-flap of the messenger’s +slippers as he shuffled up the street. +</p> + +<p> +Dearborn waited awhile, then entered the front room and closed the +door, standing against it listening. He heard the rush of feet, +distinguished the policemen, heard them clump through the passage, and +the chatter of an idle bystander or two behind them; then he opened +the door. A policeman was bending over Blind Jake. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s him all right,” he said. “Jim, clear these people out and +stand on duty at the door until the inspector comes. You’d better blow +your whistle.” +</p> + +<p> +A police whistle shrilled through Lissom Lane, and the little knot of +curiosity-mongers who had been turned unceremoniously from the scene +of the tragedy grouped about the door. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s happened?” asked Mr. Dearborn, and the policeman smiled +good-naturedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, postman,” he said, “you go along and deliver your letters.” And +John Dearborn flung his bag over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +For he had chosen the uniform of a letter-carrier, and it had proved a +most effective cloak. He got away within a few minutes of Larry’s +arrival. The detective was on his way to interview Mr. John Dearborn, +and the handcuffs he had in his pocket were expressly intended for +that gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +Larry saw the little crowd about the door and knew that something +unusual had happened. He came to the study and looked silently upon +the massive body of his enemy. Blind Jake had died immediately. He had +never known what had struck him, or guessed the vile treachery of the +employer he had served so well. +</p> + +<p> +“The man must be in the house somewhere, sir,” said the policeman. +“This little fellow heard the shots, and the superintendent sent him +out to get a policeman. We both came down together, me and my mate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was the front door left unguarded at all?” asked Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Only for a second, sir,” said the policeman. “We both came in +together.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was the second our friend got away,” said Larry. “I don’t think +it’s any use searching the house.” +</p> + +<p> +He was accompanied by the officers who had been charged to effect the +arrest of Dearborn, and their inspection and examination of the room +produced nothing of importance. +</p> + +<p> +Larry drove back to the Yard and interviewed the Chief Commissioner. +Then he went to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve heard the news,” she said quietly. “Sergeant Harvey has just +been in. Do you think Dearborn’s killed him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dearborn is David Judd,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Judd’s brother?” she said in surprise. “But he’s dead.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“That elaborate funeral was well staged, and I am perfectly certain +that David even went to the length of providing the body. He is a very +thorough gentleman. You remember Lew telling us of his brother who +disappeared, a fine-looking fellow with a beard?” She nodded. “That is +the man we shall find in David Judd’s grave,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Dr. Judd——” she began, and there was no need to finish the +sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Judd is in it up to the neck,” said Larry. “The story of Dearborn +is explained very easily. Dearborn was a partner of Judd’s, and +something that happened at the office—either some crime or some +murder, perhaps, which David had manœuvred in order to draw +insurance—had come to the knowledge of one of the clerks. This man +stole a large sum of money and went to Montpellier, and from there +began to blackmail David. David went after him and shot him. Probably +the murder was unpremeditated, because David is not the sort of man +who would shoot in the open square. But at any rate he did shoot, and +he was seen by Flash Fred, who reached the body in time to learn from +the dying man the name of his murderer. To a man of Fred’s calibre, +that meant that he had an income for life, and he hastened back to +London, saw Dr. Judd, and probably stated the terms on which he would +keep his mouth shut. Judd decided that David should conveniently die; +and David, you remember, was a fine-looking man with a beard. Of their +hirelings or acquaintances they chose Lew’s brother as being the +nearest in physical appearance to David, and he was unceremoniously +destroyed and buried as David. Incidentally, a very large sum of money +was drawn from the underwriters on the heavy insurance policy which +had been issued to David. +</p> + +<p> +“They must have had this scheme in mind for some time, for a month +before David’s death Dr. Judd had completed the purchase of Todd’s +Home. It was not so much a charitable institution as a business +proposition, for Todd’s Home had deteriorated into a kind of superior +doss-house, frequented by the lowest of the low amongst the blind +mendicants of London. It was there that the famous Dark Eyes had their +headquarters, and it was from them that David must have learnt of +Todd’s. +</p> + +<p> +“The Home was bought, and the day after David’s ‘death’ the Rev. John +Dearborn appeared as the new superintendent. It is perfectly true that +he cleared out all the bad characters and had certain structural +alterations made; but he only did this because he wanted to clear the +taint from Todd’s Home, to give it a good character, and to employ the +house as his headquarters without fear of police visitations. When the +laundry company went broke, it was Judd who bought the premises, and +the alterations were carried out by David himself with the assistance +of his gang. David, I might remark, is an architect and built the +house in which his brother lives. We know they employed foreign +workmen, and that that house was built for one specific purpose,” he +said gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“With the laundry premises in their possession the Dark Eyes came back +to Lissom Lane, and came and went amongst the blind, who could not see +them and who were ignorant of their presence.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about Dr. Judd?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I am arresting him,” said Larry. “And I am arresting him in the very +place from whence your father disappeared—in that famous Box A at the +Macready Theatre.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will he be there?” she asked in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“He is there almost every evening,” he said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“But why not take him now?” she asked, puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +“Because Box A and its mystery have yet to be cleared up,” said Larry; +“and I have an idea that I shall clear it.” +</p> + +<p> +At eight o’clock that night he walked into the vestibule of the +Macready Theatre. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Judd, sir?” said the attendant. “Yes, he’s in Box A. Is he +expecting you?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. Harvey was for accompanying him, but the other shook his +head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go alone,” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +He went swiftly down the passage and, stopping only for a second +outside Box A, he turned the knob of the door and stepped in. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd’s eyes were fixed on the stage, and the detective had stopped +to speak to him when something dropped on his head, something fleecy +and warm. It felt like a bag lined with wool. It had been saturated +with a chemical which took his breath away and momentarily paralyzed +him. Then he felt a string pulled tightly round his neck, and whipped +out his pistol. Before he could use it, it was gripped. Something +sharp hit the hand that held it, and he let go with a cry of pain, +muffled in the bag. Every breath he took choked him. He struck out, +but his arms were seized from behind, and he was flung forward on the +floor. Dimly he heard the voice of Dearborn: +</p> + +<p> +“The atomizer, Peter!” +</p> + +<p> +A nozzle was pressed under his chin into the bag, and something +pungent was sprayed under his nostrils. He tried to fight his way out +of their grip, but a knee was in the middle of his back, and then he +lost consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re really a genius, David,” said Dr. Judd almost ecstatically. +“So perfectly timed, so beautifully done! Wonderful, dear fellow, +wonderful!” +</p> + +<p> +“Open the door and look out, Peter,” said David, and the doctor +obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +The passage was empty. Immediately opposite the door of Box A a +curtain was draped on the wall, and through this he disappeared, and +there came a rush of cold air as he opened the fire-exit door which +led to the side street, where a car was waiting. +</p> + +<p> +A minute later David Judd had picked up the detective as easily as +though he were a child, had lifted him into the interior of the +limousine, and had taken the place at the wheel. +</p> + +<p> +He came to the house in Chelsea, and brought the car with a sweep +straight to the closed gates of the covered driveway. In that solid +gate were the two big circles, and before David Judd’s car were two +steel bars that projected beyond the line of the lamps and just +beneath. Slowly and skilfully he brought the car up the inclined slope +from the roadway, so that the ends of the two bars rested in the +“peep-holes.” Then he drove the machine forward. There was a click and +the gates swung open. The car rolled in, and as the wheels passed over +a narrow transverse platform that gave slightly under its weight, the +doors closed again. +</p> + +<p> +David Judd stopped opposite the door that looked like a window, opened +it and, lifting Larry in his arms, passed inside. The lights were +burning on the stairs leading to the cell, the doors of which were +wide open. +</p> + +<p> +He threw the detective on the bed, picked up the bronze anklet and +snapped it about one of Larry’s ankles; and then, and only then, did +he pull off the heavy leather bag which covered Larry Holt’s head. It +stank of formalhyadine, and he threw it into the bathroom. +</p> + +<p> +Larry’s face was purple; he had all the symptoms of one who had been +strangled, but as the night air reached him he gasped. David leant +over and felt his pulse, opened his eyelids and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +He went out softly, locking the two doors, and paused at the first +landing, to enter what Sergeant Harvey had called the “machinery +room.” He turned over a switch and the electric ventilating apparatus +hummed drowsily. +</p> + +<p> +David went again into the yard, stopping only to lock the doors behind +him. He had no time to lose; the engines of his car were still +running, and he jumped into his seat and began to go slowly backward. +As the wheels reached the narrow weighbridge, the gates opened again. +They would remain open twenty seconds and would then close of +themselves; and the car had hardly backed on to the road before they +came together noiselessly. +</p> + +<p> +Swiftly the car sped back. This time it turned northward and jolted to +a standstill opposite Larry Holt’s flat. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch40"> +CHAPTER XL.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A LETTER FROM LARRY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Diana</span> had gone home—it was queer how in a few days she had come to +regard Larry’s flat as her home—before dinner. Her work was done, and +there remained only the stern, grim processes of arrest to be +accomplished. At any moment she expected the telephone bell to ring +and to hear Larry’s voice telling her that the brothers were under +lock and key. +</p> + +<p> +She had a book on her lap, but she was not reading. Her nurse and +chaperon was sewing in her room. Sunny was standing outside the door +of the flat, which was ajar, discussing certain matters with Louie, +the lift girl, in a low voice. Probably Sunny had secrets of his own, +but it was certain that the discovery of a person who agreed with him +in most of the things he said and most of the statements he made had +fascinated this agreeable man. +</p> + +<p> +Diana sat, her head bent, her hand softly caressing her throat, and +her mind was on the future rather than upon the tragic past. She rose +once and went into Sunny’s little room, where the woman she had called +“aunt” was sleeping peacefully; and she smiled as she walked back +along the passage at the thought of this female invasion of Larry’s +bachelor quarters. +</p> + +<p> +She had taken up the book when Sunny knocked and came in. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a note for you, miss,” he said, and handed a letter to the +girl. It was in Larry’s writing, and she tore open the envelope and +read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dear Diana</span>: +</p> + +<p> +The most extraordinary mistake has occurred. Dr. Judd has given an +amazing version of the death of your father. Will you get into the car +which I have sent and come down to his house at once—38 Endman +Gardens, Chelsea. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">Larry</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +She glanced at the embossed note-heading. Larry had written from +Endman Gardens. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any answer, miss?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the girl. “Tell the chauffeur I will come down at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going out, miss?” said Sunny dubiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am going to Mr. Holt,” she said with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like me to come with you, miss?” said Sunny. “The master +doesn’t wish you to go about alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I’m all right this evening, Sunny,” said the girl kindly. +“Thank you very much for your offer.” +</p> + +<p> +She dressed quickly and went downstairs. The limousine was waiting at +the door, and the chauffeur touched his cap. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Ward?” he asked. “I’m from the doctor’s.” He spoke in a gruff +voice, as if he had a cold. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Miss Ward,” she replied, and sprang into the limousine. +</p> + +<p> +The car stopped before a dark and silent house. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this the place?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, miss,” said the man. “If you go up those steps and ring the +bell, the servant will take you to the gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +It was Dr. Judd himself, jovial and smiling, who opened the door to +her and ushered her into a magnificent room. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mind waiting here a little while, Miss Stuart?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The name sounded oddly to her, and he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you’re not used to being called that name, eh?” he said +with excellent humour. “Now I’m going upstairs to see our mutual +friend, and I will bring him down to you. Perhaps you could amuse +yourself for ten minutes. Our little conference is not quite ended.” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded, and settled herself in the chair. The ten minutes passed, +and twenty minutes, and the twenty minutes became forty minutes, and +nobody came to her. The silver-toned clock on the mantelpiece chimed +sweetly. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten o’clock!” she said in surprise. “I wonder what is keeping him?” +</p> + +<p> +Yet she had no fear, and did not doubt for one moment that Larry was +in the house. +</p> + +<p> +The room was luxurious, beautiful, more beautiful than any Diana had +ever seen. She sat by the side of a great open fireplace where a small +fire was burning, for the night was chilly, and she looked round +approvingly upon the pictures, the tapestries, the rich hangings, and +the soft panelling which was the background for all. There was not an +article of furniture in that room, she thought, that had not been +chosen with care and judgment. The rugs upon the floor were antique +Persian; the carved table might have been looted from an Eastern +emperor’s palace. +</p> + +<p> +She lay luxuriously in the depths of a great chair, an illustrated +newspaper on her knees, and brought her gaze back to the fire and her +thoughts to Larry. She wondered what important matters he was +discussing and what was the explanation which the doctor had offered. +After a while she looked up at the clock again. Half-past ten! She put +down her paper and walked restlessly about the gorgeous apartment, and +then she heard the click of a door and Dr. Judd came in from the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you haven’t been lonely,” he said. “He will be in very +shortly.” +</p> + +<p> +She took it for granted that the “he” to whom the doctor referred was +Larry Holt. +</p> + +<p> +“I was getting worried,” she smiled. “What a beautiful room this is!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said carelessly, “it is beautiful, but one day we will have +a more wonderful saloon to show you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here he is,” said the doctor; but it was not Larry who came in. She +sprang to her feet with an exclamation of alarm. The man who had +entered was John Dearborn. He made no pretence now. His glasses were +gone, and his fine eyes were surveying her with amusement. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Mr. Holt?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +Dearborn laughed softly. +</p> + +<p> +“You would like some supper,” he said, and slipped back one of the +panels by the side of the fireplace, revealing a silver tray on which +a meal for one had been laid. +</p> + +<p> +“We do not eat at night.” He carried the tray to the table and spread +a lace cloth. +</p> + +<p> +The girl’s colour had gone. She was in mortal peril, but her voice did +not quiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Mr. Holt?” she asked again. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Holt is quite happy.” It was the doctor who spoke. “We will let +you see him later.” +</p> + +<p> +The strange words and the stranger tone frightened her, and she got up +from her chair and picked up her wrap. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I will stay any longer, if Mr. Holt is not here, Dr. +Judd,” she said, addressing that jovial man. “Can you take me home?” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor did not reply. He had pulled open a drawer of a lacquer +bureau and had taken out a thick pad of papers and handed them to +Dearborn with a broad smile. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re going to have a delightful time, Miss Stuart,” he said. +“Really, David, it is most good of you. I thought you would be too +tired to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl looked from one to the other, not daring to credit her own +senses. Dr. Judd, who had hitherto been polite to a point of +obsequiousness, was ignoring her. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you heard me, Dr. Judd,” she said steadily. “I want you +to take me back to my—to Mr. Holt’s flat.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is thinking of her clothes,” murmured the doctor, addressing his +brother. “You will see that they are sent for, won’t you, David?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sent for?” gasped the girl. “What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +David Judd—already she had ceased to think of him as “Dearborn”—had +settled himself in the chair which she had lately occupied, and was +turning the leaves of his manuscript book. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you had better eat first. You must be very hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will eat nothing in this house until I know what you mean by saying +that my clothes will be brought here,” she said hotly. “I am going +back alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear young lady,”—it was the doctor who laid his big hand on her +arm—“please do not distract David. He is going to read one of his +beautiful plays to you. Do you know that David is the greatest +dramatist in the world—the supreme force in modern drama, rivalling, +and indeed excelling, the so-called genius of Shakespeare?” +</p> + +<p> +David looked at his brother and their eyes met. +</p> + +<p> +He was so earnest, so self-convinced, that she had no words for a +moment. Then: +</p> + +<p> +“I am not in a mood to hear plays read, however beautiful they are,” +she said. She had to keep a tight hold on herself, for instinct warned +her that her plight was desperate. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think she will go back to-night,” said the doctor, almost +regretfully. “Perhaps to-morrow, when you are married to her?” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke timidly, pleadingly, and there was a question in his +statement. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not marry her,” said the man called Dearborn sharply. “I +thought we had arranged that, brother? Jake is dead, but there are +others. Does it matter who marries her?” +</p> + +<p> +Diana was dumb with indignation and horror. They were discussing her +marriage with one of them, each trying to induce the other to wed her +with a calmness and an assurance which left her speechless. At last +she found her voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not intend marrying either of you,” she said. “I am engaged +to—Larry Holt.” +</p> + +<p> +Both men were looking at her, and in the doctor’s rubicund face there +was an expression of distress. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a pity,” he said. “The whole thing could be arranged if Mr. +Holt were with us. Unfortunately, though he is with us in the body, we +are spiritually as far as the poles apart.” +</p> + +<p> +“With us in the body?” she repeated, and was seized with a violent fit +of trembling. She had realized that the letter which lured her to this +terrible house was a forgery, and her hope of rescue was centred on +the certainty that Larry would discover her absence and come after +her. +</p> + +<p> +And then the two men exchanged glances, and Dearborn rose and put down +his book with an air of resignation. He beckoned her and passed to the +other end of the apartment, and there found a door which Larry had +overlooked; for the edge of the panels which covered it so overlapped +that no crevice was visible. +</p> + +<p> +“I designed this house myself,” he explained simply, “and built it +myself with only twenty workmen from Tuscany.” +</p> + +<p> +Later she was to find much of that was true. The chamber in which she +found herself, led by the fascination of a growing horror, was +unfurnished and unadorned. She heard a strange humming sound and a +curious vibration beneath her feet. Then David stopped, fumbled with +something on the floor, and opened a little trap-door less than a foot +square. It revealed a pane of glass, and when her eyes had become +accustomed to the unexpected perspective, she saw beneath her a small +room, evidently lighted from the ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +She had no time to take in the details of the room; her eyes were +focussed upon the figure that sat on the edge of the bed. With his +handkerchief he was binding a wound in his hand, and at first she did +not recognize him. Then he looked up, for, though he could not see the +occupants of the room above, he had heard the sound of the trap +opening. +</p> + +<p> +She stared and screamed, for it was Larry Holt who sat there, and he +was chained by the ankle. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch41"> +CHAPTER XLI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">DIANA PULLS A LEVER</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dearborn</span> put his arm about her waist and dragged her from the room +into the saloon. When he released her, her knees gave way under her +and she dropped to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Everything must be seemly,” said Dr. Judd gravely. “We cannot +countenance a vulgar scene. Do I speak your mind, brother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly, my dear,” answered David Judd. +</p> + +<p> +Diana stared up at him from the floor, resting her shaking body upon +her arms. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to do with him?” she asked wildly. +</p> + +<p> +Again the brothers looked at one another. +</p> + +<p> +“You tell her, doctor,” said David gently. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you should tell her, my dear David,” he answered. “You are so +very delicate in these matters, bless you—and remember,” he added, +“that she is your wife.” +</p> + +<p> +David had seated himself and was leaning over the arm of the chair, +his immobile face fixed upon Diana’s. +</p> + +<p> +“When I have finished with him,” he said, “I shall drown him.” +</p> + +<p> +She started up, her hand to her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” she breathed. +</p> + +<p> +The dreadful truth came upon the girl with a rush. These men were +madmen! Madmen who preserved all the outward appearance of sanity, who +day by day and for years had conducted a business with sane men and +never once betrayed the kink in their unwholesome minds. She shrank +back from them, farther and farther back, until she was against the +panelling of the opposite wall. They were her father’s murderers! She +thought she was going to faint, but dug her nails into her palms in a +tremendous effort to keep her senses. Mad, and the world rubbed +shoulders with them and never suspected! +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I read?” asked David quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, read,” she said eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +They were to kill Larry when he had finished reading! +</p> + +<p> +That was the thought which obsessed her as she turned her drawn face +to the man. The vanity of this monomaniac was flattered, and he +betrayed his agitation in his stumbling speech as he read the first +two pages of his manuscript. +</p> + +<p> +Then his voice grew calmer, and the girl understood in a wondering way +that he was imparting into these dead and lifeless words a beauty +which only his mind could see, but which, in some extraordinary way, +he was conveying also to her. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Judd had slipped from his chair to the big bearskin rug before the +fire and sat with his legs crossed, his hands clasped before him, his +large eager face turned to his brother. And here was another curious +circumstance which the girl noted numbly. Those lines which seemed +brilliant to David were brilliant also to the other, and when he +paused self-consciously, as if for applause, it was always the doctor +who anticipated his desire. +</p> + +<p> +“Wonderful, wonderful! Is he not a genius, Miss Stuart?” asked +Stephen. +</p> + +<p> +She glanced quickly at the other, expecting to find him embarrassed, +but he sat bolt upright, a complacent smile upon his heavy face, a +benevolence in his eyes. And they were planning murder! They had +murdered many men in this terrible house, she thought, and wondered. +Had they sat here whilst their victims fought their last fight in that +horrible dungeon, the one reading and the other listening to these +trite sentences, these age-worn situations which both believed were +the work of a supreme genius? +</p> + +<p> +“This is not my best work,” said David, as though reading her +thoughts. “You like it, of course?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the girl in a low voice. “Go on, please.” +</p> + +<p> +She hoped to keep them occupied throughout the whole of the night. She +knew that the police would be searching for Larry, and perhaps one of +them knew this house in Chelsea. But those hopes were to be shattered, +and her heart gave a wild leap as she saw David close the manuscript +book and put it tenderly on the table beside him. +</p> + +<p> +“Brother,” he said, “I think——?” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“And it would be a gracious thing, and a picturesque beginning for all +the happiness which lies ahead of us, if this fair hand——” He took +the unresisting hand of Diana in his, and again he did not complete +his sentence. +</p> + +<p> +He took his keys from his pocket, the keys that Flash Fred had so +carefully duplicated, and Larry had duplicated again, and walked to +the door through which the girl had entered the room. He smiled to +himself as he inserted the key and the door swung open. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you come this way, dear girl?” he asked. She hesitated, then, +summoning her courage, followed him down a flight of steps. +</p> + +<p> +Again there was a door at the end. A little room filled with machinery +she saw, when he put on the light. He walked to a switch. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have the honour of releasing our friend—we bear him no +malice—Mr. Holt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Release him?” she asked huskily. “Do you mean that?” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated, her hand upon the black lever in the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you not open the door and let him out?” she asked +suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“That will open the door and release him. Believe me, my dear, I would +not in this hour deceive you.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the doctor who spoke in his softest tone, and she hesitated no +longer. Her brain was in a whirl. She could not analyze either their +motives or their sincerity, nor could she appreciate the fact that to +these men deception was a habit of thought. She swung the lever back +and it came more easily than she had expected. Then she looked at the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go and meet him,” said the doctor, and put his arm round her +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +She shivered, but did not attempt to escape, and so he led her up the +stairs and back into the <i>salon</i>, closing and locking the door behind +him. +</p> + +<p> +Then, before she could guess or anticipate his intentions, the arm +about her shoulders had become a grip as firm as a vise, and she found +herself pressed closely to the big man. +</p> + +<p> +“My wife, I think, brother,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly your wife,” said the doctor; “for the world is yours to +pick and take from, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“My wife,” repeated Dearborn without emotion, and brought his lips to +hers. +</p> + +<p> +She was frozen with terror, incapable of movement. Why did not Larry +come? Then, as suddenly as he had seized her, the doctor released his +hold and took her cold hand in his. +</p> + +<p> +“Come back to the fire, wife,” he said. “I will finish the third act +of this great work of mine, and by that time Mr. Holt will be dead.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch42"> +CHAPTER XLII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">IN THE TRAP</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Larry</span> sat on the iron bedstead of the cell, his aching head between +his hands. He had anticipated many ends to that night’s adventure, but +never did he imagine that he would be trapped like a rat, and that the +mystery of Box A would be solved in so startling a fashion. So that +was the explanation of Gordon Stuart’s death. He had accepted the +invitation of Dr. Judd to go with him in his box, and there had met +the sinister figure of Dearborn. He had either been drugged or clubbed +to insensibility and had been carried in John Dearborn’s strong arms +through the emergency door in the passage and whisked away to the +House of Death. +</p> + +<p> +If he had not anticipated such an end to the evening, he thought, he +had at least made some preparations. Instinctively he had known that +of all places on the face of the earth where his quarry would be run +down and “Finis” might be written to the Stuart case, no other spot +was so likely as in this terrible mansion which the Judds had built +for themselves, and the object of his visit that morning had been +twofold. He desired to know and to see with his own eyes the evidence +of the men’s wickedness; but he had also a wish to understand the +ultimate danger to himself and to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +He smiled as he thought of Diana, sitting snugly at home, and wondered +what she would feel if she knew his position. +</p> + +<p> +His captor had taken from him every weapon he carried, but that did +not worry Larry overmuch. He got up from the bed and walked about the +room, but the weight of chain at his ankle made it necessary that he +should gather a yard of it slack in his hand. He gave one glance at +the black holes in the wall near the floor, for it was from these that +danger would come. Well and truly had these men planned their +execution-room. No cry for help, no sound he might make, would +penetrate through these concrete walls. The light in the ceiling was +protected by a thick and heavy globe of glass. It reminded him of a +bulkhead light. +</p> + +<p> +He wanted to test the length of the chain, for he had ample time, he +thought. Dearborn would be in the house by now. He heard the click of +the trap-door above and looked up, but saw nothing. He waited for +another half-hour, then pushed over the big block of stone to which +the chain was fastened. Before his eyes could fall upon the bag he had +left there in his earlier visit, the light went out. +</p> + +<p> +Curiously enough, he had not provided for that contingency, and he +drew a sharp breath. The bag was there: his fingers touched and pulled +it out, and he groped inside for the keys. Had there been light, there +would have been no difficulty in selecting that which unlocked the +anklet; but now he tested three, and none of them fitted the bronze +clamp about his ankle. +</p> + +<p> +He heard a sound, a low, gurgling sound, such as water makes when it +is poured from a bottle; and then about his feet came an eddy of cold +air. He tried another key, and that, too, failed him. Worse still, it +remained fixed in the lock, and he could not pull it out. +</p> + +<p> +He heard the rush of the water coming through the small holes in the +wall, and the dull throb of a pump. He tugged at the key, great beads +of sweat running down his cheeks, and then, with a sigh of relief, it +came out. The water was over his boots now and rising rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +There was only one more key to try; the rest were too big for the +purpose. He drew that out, but the ward caught in the string of the +bag in which he had put them, and the key fell into the water. He +groped down; it had gone! Again and again he flung his hand through +the swirling water, and his fingers groped along the rough concrete +floor. Presently with a cry he felt it and, lifting his ankle with an +effort, he inserted the key. It turned. The anklet opened, and he was +free. +</p> + +<p> +There were still the two doors, and he knew that, with the pressure of +water, it would require his utmost efforts to open them. +</p> + +<p> +The water was up to his waist now, and he waded along the passage and +up the two steps, holding the waterproof bag between his teeth. The +key turned easily enough, but there was no handle to pull, and every +second increased the pressure of the water. He set his teeth and, +gripping the key in both hands, he pulled steadily, steadily.… +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch43"> +CHAPTER XLIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE PASSING OF DAVID</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Diana</span> had heard the dread words without understanding them at first. +</p> + +<p> +“By that time Mr. Holt will be dead!” +</p> + +<p> +She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came. She had killed +Larry! Her hand had pulled the lever which drowned him! That was the +word Judd had used. Drowned him—but how? As the thought took more +definite shape she swayed toward the doctor and gripped his shoulder +for support. She would not faint, she told herself; she would not +faint! There must be a way of saving Larry. She looked around for some +weapon, but there was none; and then she grew calmer. They were madmen +and must be humoured. But the time was short. +</p> + +<p> +Again she assumed an attitude of attention, but her mind and eyes were +busy, and as David Judd leaned forward she saw something that brought +a thrill of hope to her heart. His jacket was open and showed just a +glimpse of white shirt where his arm passed through the waistcoat, and +against that strip of white was a sharp black line. She looked again +and saw it was an automatic pistol, worn in a holster under the +armpit. She remembered reading of desperadoes who carried their guns +that way, so that they might be ready to hand; and possibly David had +read, too. +</p> + +<p> +He was in the midst of an impassioned love scene when her hand darted +forward and closed over the butt. With a jerk she pulled it free and +stepped back, overturning the little table on which her supper tray +had been laid. +</p> + +<p> +“If you move I’ll kill you,” she said breathlessly. “Open that door, +and release him!” +</p> + +<p> +The two men were on their feet, staring at her. +</p> + +<p> +“You—you interrupted my reading,” cried David, in the tremulous voice +of a hurt child. He did not seem to be conscious of any danger. +</p> + +<p> +“Open the door,” she breathed, “and release Larry Holt, or I’ll kill +you!” +</p> + +<p> +David frowned and put his hand on the mantelpiece. She saw his fingers +touch a button, and as the lights went out she fired. +</p> + +<p> +The explosion deafened her. A second later his strong arms were around +her and he had flung her into the chair and stood glaring down at her. +</p> + +<p> +“You interrupted my reading,” he almost sobbed, and Dr. Judd, a +frowning figure, looked anxiously from her to his brother. “And now,” +said David petulantly, “I will not marry you.” +</p> + +<p> +His big hand gripped the edge of her bodice and dragged her to her +feet. His eyes were wet with tears, the tears of pride, of +humiliation. Then, with the sudden caprice of a madman, he released +her. +</p> + +<p> +“He is dead now, I should think, brother,” he said, turning to the +doctor, and Dr. Judd drew a sigh of relief and nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he is dead now,” he said. “The water rises at the rate of one +foot in two minutes, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“One foot in a minute and fifty seconds,” said David. +</p> + +<p> +“Spare him, for God’s sake!” cried the girl hoarsely. “I will give you +anything—anything in the world you want! If it is money, you shall +have it!” +</p> + +<p> +“I think she ought to see him,” said David, ignoring her frenzied +appeal. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no light,” said the doctor, and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not. How stupid of me! We always put the light out,” said +David, whose fit of anger seemed to have passed. “Then the water comes +up through the little holes at the bottom of the cell very, very +quickly. It is pumped from the roof of the house. We have a large tank +there, you know,” he went on, “and the person we drown cannot rise +because of the weight of his feet. Once a man got on the bed—do you +remember?” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember,” said the doctor in a conversational tone. “We had to put +nine feet of water into the cell before he died.” +</p> + +<p> +She listened numbly. It was a nightmare, she told herself, and +presently she would wake. +</p> + +<p> +“And that takes a long time to pump out. It was very thoughtless of +him. So much had to be done,” David continued, and his brother was +looking at him for the first time anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“We had to dry the bed,” David went on, “and did you notice the chain +was rusty, brother? That isn’t right. It is an eyesore to me.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned and looked at Diana thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“My wife,” he said in a low voice, and there was a sudden fire in his +eyes which terrified her. “My wife,” he said again, and caught her to +him with a horrible animal cry that set her shrinking. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>I want you, Judd!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +He spun round. Someone had come into the room and was standing now +with a pistol aimed straight at the man’s heart. +</p> + +<p> +It was Larry Holt. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch44"> +CHAPTER XLIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE END OF THE CHASE</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Don’t</span> move,” said Larry. “Resistance is useless. Listen to that.” +</p> + +<p> +There was the faint sound of a crash in the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Those are police officers, and they are inside the house,” said Larry +laconically. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly David pushed the girl away from him and faced the intruder, +looking at him from under his heavy brows. Larry did not see the man’s +hand move, so quick was the motion. A wind fanned his cheek, a panel +splintered, and the two shots sounded like one to the half-fainting +girl. +</p> + +<p> +David Judd stood for a moment erect, then staggered a little. +</p> + +<p> +“My beautiful plays!” he said, and choked. +</p> + +<p> +Then, without another word, he crashed to the floor, dead. +</p> + +<p> +“David, David!” Dr. Judd threw himself upon the body. “David, don’t +act! I will get you beautiful actors for your work. I don’t like to +see you doing it, David! It frightens me. Tell him not to!” +</p> + +<p> +The big man, his florid face gone white, looked up appealingly at +Larry Holt, who stood with his smoking pistol in his hand, his eyes +fixed upon the two. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Holt, you have influence with him,” whined the doctor, his face +streaming with tears. “Tell him, please, not to do this! It frightens +me when he acts. Sometimes he acts for hours in this room—little +pieces from his own wonderful plays. You must ask him to read you +some, Mr. Holt. David——!” He shook the body, but David was beyond +the voice of his brother. +</p> + +<p> +Then the doctor stood up. He came across to Larry, laying his large +hand on the other’s like a frightened child. Larry was so overwhelmed +by the tragedy of it all that he could not speak. This grown man, +whose brilliant brain had conceived and dared so much, was for a +moment like a little child. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the doctor’s head came up. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry,” he said huskily. “Poor boy!” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at Larry Holt long and steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Holt,” he said, “I have been behaving childishly, but I am +perfectly sane. I accept full responsibility for all my acts—and all +the acts of my brother. I know quite well what I have done.” +</p> + +<p> +Harvey had burst into the room and stopped dead at the scene, until +Larry beckoned him forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Take him,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish we had finished you,” said Dr. Judd as they led him away. +</p> + +<p> +The girl was in Larry’s arms now, her face hidden against his +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the end of the bad road,” he whispered, and she nodded. As +they came into the vestibule, one of the police officers who filled +the hall saluted him. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve taken the servant, sir. He was locked up in another part of the +house.” +</p> + +<p> +“He knows nothing about it,” said Larry. “You can safely release him. +And, anyway, I haven’t taken the trouble to get a warrant for him.” +</p> + +<p> +A tall man came out of the broken doorway which Larry discovered led +to the servants’ quarters, and took the girl’s hand in his. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve had a terrible experience, Miss Stuart,” he said, and she +recognized the Police Commissioner, and tried to smile. “I have my car +here. You had better come along, Larry. Harvey can charge Dr. Judd.” +</p> + +<p> +They drove back to Scotland Yard, and Larry said very little on the +journey. He sat by the girl’s side, her hand in his, and answered the +questions the Commissioner put to him briefly and without elaboration. +It was when they were back in the Commissioner’s office that Larry +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“John,” he said, “I hope you are not going to report this matter to +the Government as an achievement on my part.” +</p> + +<p> +Sir John looked at him with an inquiring frown. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I shall,” he said. “Who else takes credit?” +</p> + +<p> +Larry put his hand on the girl’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the best detective we have had in Scotland Yard for many +years,” he said simply. +</p> + +<p> +Diana laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You silly man,” she scoffed, “of course I am not. Who was the best +detective you could have had to deal with this case?” +</p> + +<p> +“You,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“The best detective was Dr. Judd, if you could have secured his +services. And he was best because he knew most of this matter, knew +all the secrets which we were trying to discover. I was in very much +the same position; I was inside the game. Once I knew, as I did, that +Clarissa Stuart was myself, I was able to mystify you. For when it was +clear that poor Emma—I nearly called her aunt—poor Emma Ward was the +charwoman who had seen my—my father, and had left in such a state of +great agitation, there was no doubt whatever in my mind that it was my +father. And when that was clear, the rest was rather easy. I knew then +that I was the objective of the gang. No, Larry, you are and you have +been wonderful.” +</p> + +<p> +Larry shook his head with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Anyway,” said the Commissioner dryly, “does it matter who gets the +credit?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked Larry in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, so long as it goes into the family,” said Sir John, and the +colour came to the girl’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a great deal in that, Sir John,” she said, “and now I am +going to take him home.” +</p> + +<p> +That night, after she had gone to bed, and Larry sat before his little +fire, his bright brier between his teeth and his mind at peace, Sunny +came in to him, bearing an armful of laundry. +</p> + +<p> +“Two of your collars are missing, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the man who wears the collars was nearly missing, Sunny,” +chuckled Larry. “Do you know, one of the first things I thought about +in that infernal place was whether you’d get the news in time to stop +the papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“I could have always sent them back, sir,” said Sunny gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a cheerful soul,” said Larry. “Well were you named Sunny! And +Sunny,” he said, “I want to tell you that I’m going to be married.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Sunny, and his brows knit in thought. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said Larry. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir,” said Sunny slowly, “I think you’ll want some new socks. +They dress very smartly at Monte Carlo.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove!” said Larry, and then his face fell. “We can’t go to Monte +Carlo in the summer, you silly ass. It would be too hot. No, I’m going +to Scotland for—for—after I’m married.” +</p> + +<p> +Sunny was interested. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’ll be wanting a kilt, sir,” he said. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch45"> +CHAPTER XLV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THREE CIGARETTES</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Two</span> months later, Dr. Judd sat on the edge of a very small bed and +smoked three cigarettes, one after the other. It was a rainy morning, +and the square of glass which gave light to the cell seemed to collect +all the grayness and drabness of the day and transmute the faded light +of heaven into a lead. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor smoked luxuriously, for he had not tasted a cigarette for +the greater part of two months. Presently the door of the cell opened, +and Larry came in. Judd jumped up to his feet and greeted the visitor +with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s awfully good of you to come, Holt,” he said. “I intended saying +nothing, but in the circumstances it seems to me only fair to a man of +your position, who has put in such a large amount of earnest and +excellent work, that you should know the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +He was altogether sincere: Larry knew that. +</p> + +<p> +“My brother David and I—and this you will understand—were on the +most affectionate terms from our early childhood. David was my care +and my responsibility, and he was also my joy. We had both been left +by our mother at a very early age, and our father was an eccentric +gentleman who had very little use for children. So we grew up and went +to the same public school and to the University together, and I think +I am right in saying that we were wholly sufficient for one another. I +had an admiration and a love for David beyond anything that is human,” +said the doctor, lowering his voice and looking down. +</p> + +<p> +Larry nodded. He had recognized this quality in the two men. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you will not think that I owe you a grudge because you killed +David,” he said. “Far from it. I recognize the inevitability, and in +my heart I know that nothing could have saved David. He died as he +would have wished; and in some respects I am very glad for all that +has happened. At the trial I made every effort to prove to the judge +and the jury that I was perfectly sane, and your evidence helped to +secure the conviction which I knew was inevitable. I thank you for it. +As I say——” he went back to the story of his early life, and told +stories of the childhood of himself and his brother. +</p> + +<p> +“When my father died,” he went on, “he left us the Greenwich Insurance +Company, a small impoverished concern which was then on the verge of +bankruptcy. I can safely and honestly say that I have never respected +the sanctity of human life. To me a human being is like any other +animal—a kind of dumb Lew,” he explained easily, and Larry could +hardly restrain a shudder at the light-hearted way he referred to this +human wreck. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you that before I go any further, lest you expect anything in +the shape of an apologetic attitude on my part. If you do, you will be +disappointed. The business to which my brother and I succeeded was +bankrupt, and I think we got our first idea for the subsequent +operations when we had to pay out a risk which had been taken by my +eccentric father and a risk which he should never have undertaken. +</p> + +<p> +“The idea of the scheme was partly mine and partly David’s. We began +our experiments three months later, when we drowned a man, whose name +I need not tell you, since it would serve no useful purpose and no +person is under suspicion for his death. We had insured him in our own +office—a very simple process—without his being any the wiser. I +myself had signed the medical report, and David, who was a clever +draughtsman, in addition to being a brilliant engineer—the career for +which he was trained—signed all the necessary forms in his name. We +chose the man carefully. He was one who had no friends and was +regarded as being something of a recluse. The policy was made payable +in favour of a fictitious name which my brother had taken in Scotland, +where he had furnished a small house and where he lived for the +purposes of collection. +</p> + +<p> +“We made a large sum of money by this death, for we had reinsured the +life and there was little to do but to collect from the underwriters. +My brother was always something of a poet, and when he was at Oxford +he wrote two or three plays, which the managers of the London theatres +rejected. I need hardly tell you,” he said with the utmost gravity, +“that they were wonderful plays, though not, of course, as good as +those I produced later at the Macready Theatre.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Macready was your property, was it not?” said Larry, and the +doctor inclined his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I bought it some time ago for the purpose of producing dear David’s +dramas,” he said. “It was the one thing for which I lived: to +establish David’s name. He had very early on taken the name of +Dearborn, and it is curious that you had not compared the name that +appeared on the playbills six years ago with the Rev. John Dearborn.” +</p> + +<p> +“They were compared,” said Larry, “and our conclusions were drawn, but +not until a late stage in the investigations.” +</p> + +<p> +“Our next experiment was on a man named—well, I need not give this +name, either,” he said. “We had to wait a reasonable time before we +bled the underwriters. And here occurred an unfortunate thing. One of +our clerks discovered that the person to whom the money was paid was +my brother. He found it out by the veriest accident, and began to +blackmail David, and finally, fearing the consequence of this line of +action, he stole a considerable sum of money from the office and went +to France. David followed him and shot him in Montpellier. You know +that part of the story very well, Mr. Holt,” he said with a +good-humoured smile. “Flash Fred saw the act committed, and lived on +me for years, but only because he never accepted an invitation to +dinner in my house,” he added with a little smile. +</p> + +<p> +“And now I come to the Stuart case. David, who did a great deal of +investigating of his own, had, as you know, disappeared as the result +of Flash Fred’s recognition. We gave him a very handsome funeral, +and——” He hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“And the body was the brother of Lew,” said Larry quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite right,” agreed the doctor. “He was an awkward man, and he—had +to go! The whole thing had been simplified by now,” he explained. “My +brother had built our beautiful house, and the death chamber with its +water, its pump, and its ventilator, had been created by his genius. +It was my idea that we should buy up Todd’s Home, and curiously enough +I had completed the sale before it became necessary for dear David to +disappear. Mr. Grogan has not told you, in all probability, that we +sought by every means in our power to induce him to come to the +Macready Theatre to see a representation of one of my brother’s +dramas. He saved himself, not by any superhuman cleverness, but +because he had the low cunning of the rat which walks around the cage +of a trap, knowing that the trap is there, yet unable to realize just +how it works. +</p> + +<p> +“I will return to Stuart,” he said. “We had laid our plans when Stuart +came into the box, and our plans did not include any injury to him +whilst he was in the theatre, because we thought it would be a simple +matter to persuade him to pass through the fire door into the car +which was waiting in the private road which is the property and stands +upon the grounds of the theatre. +</p> + +<p> +“Stuart came. My brother, of course, was not there, though he was near +enough at hand if I wanted him. Boxes A, B, and C were never let to +the public, by the way. To our surprise he came in the most exalted +mood, and told us that he had discovered a daughter. And then, for the +first time, we knew that he was not an obscure stranger, but a very +rich man. We took him back to the house and he went willingly, and +there we had a discussion, dear David and I, as to what should be +done. We came to the conclusion that there was nothing definite to be +secured from this man if we let him live, and it was very necessary, +indeed vitally necessary, that money should come in at once. I had +spent a great deal of money, some hundred thousand pounds,” he said +airily as he lit his second cigarette, “on art treasures, and another +hundred thousand upon the theatre, and we were being pressed very +hard. We decided that Stuart should go.” +</p> + +<p> +He puffed at his cigarette and blew a ring to the ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +“He showed fight,” he said briefly. “By the way, I have reason to +believe that one of the cuff-links which were torn off my shirt in +that struggle was retrieved by you, Mr. Holt. Where did you find it?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the dead man’s hand,” said Larry, and Dr. Judd nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I was afraid I had not been very thorough,” he said, “but I am +relieved, because I thought that David was to blame—David was +careless in some matters. +</p> + +<p> +“He had told us, had Stuart, all about his charwoman, had given us her +address; and there and then we decided to find this Clarissa and marry +her to someone.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It did not matter whom, +so long as we could first of all prove her birth and then control her +money. The next day my brother went to confirm the man’s story, but he +found difficulty. The woman in charge of the nursing home—it was a +converted farm, if you remember, where Mrs. Stuart died—had +disappeared. And even the offer of a reward did not produce any +results. We had no difficulty in finding and capturing the charwoman. +Blind Jake, who was a faithful servant of ours—and nobody regrets his +death more than myself, but I also realize that it was necessary, or +had the appearance of necessity—Blind Jake, I say, hurried her away, +and from the information she was able to supply us with, I could trace +Clarissa Stuart as Diana Ward. I might add, for your information,” he +said, addressing Holt, “that the inquiries did not take more than half +a day.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is one question I should like to ask you, doctor,” said Larry +quietly. “The lift accident was arranged by whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“By David,” said the doctor with a little smile, as though he were +amused at something. “David was on the floor above, and it was David +who dropped things on your head. They didn’t reach your head, of +course, which was unfortunate. Then he had an easy exit along the roof +to the next building, and I never admired you so much as when you +refrained from going up those steps left so invitingly under the open +trap-door. You would have come down very quickly,” he added +significantly. “And that, gentlemen, really concludes my story.” And +he took up the third cigarette, for the second had been smoked very +vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you spare Lew?” asked Larry. “He was one of your helpers and +knew your secrets.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was prepared to spare almost anybody unless my life was +endangered,” said Dr. Judd. “Certainly I did not want to find all my +good plans tumbling to the ground through the death of some wretched +beggar who was quite harmless. I only killed when it was necessary or +profitable,” he said. “Blind Jake had his own vendettas, and his +attempt upon Fanny Weldon was a purely private affair in which we were +not interested.” +</p> + +<p> +A man came in through the door of the cell, a short, stocky man who +was bareheaded, and Dr. Judd took one long whiff of his cigarette, +dropped it on the floor of the cell and put his foot upon it. +</p> + +<p> +“The executioner, I presume?” he said pleasantly, and turned round, +putting his hands behind him. +</p> + +<p> +The stocky man strapped him tight, and the white-robed clergyman, +whose ministrations he had refused and who was waiting outside the +cell door, came in and walked slowly by the doctor’s side. +</p> + +<p> +And so he went out of sight of Larry, who waited behind. He saw the +broad shoulders for the last time as they passed through the narrow +door leading from the prison hall to the exercise yard, and he waited, +feeling inexpressibly and unaccountably sad. +</p> + +<p> +A minute passed, and then there was a crash that came like thunder to +his ears and made him start. It was the crash of the falling +death-trap. Dr. Judd had met his brother. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[The End] +</p> + + +<h2> +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES +</h2> + +<p> +The Ward, Lock & Co. (1924) edition was consulted for many of the +changes listed below. +</p> + +<p> +Minor spelling inconsistencies (<i>e.g.</i> boarding-house/boarding house, +cigar-case/cigar case, flash-lamp/flash lamp, etc.) have been +preserved. +</p> + +<p class="noindent mt1"> +<b>Alterations to the text</b>: +</p> + +<p> +Punctuation: a few missing/invisible periods and commas, and some +quotation mark pairings. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter II] +</p> + +<p> +Change “it is awfully good of you to forgo <i>you</i> holiday” to <i>your</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Reguarly</i> as the clock he’d return after two hours’ absence” to +<i>Regularly</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter III] +</p> + +<p> +“He looked around for some receptacle, and saw, a cupboard in the +wall” delete the second comma. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter VIII] +</p> + +<p> +“He frowned. It was an <i>absnrd</i> idea” to <i>absurd</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XII] +</p> + +<p> +“She turned round with, an exclamation of fright.” delete the comma. +</p> + +<p> +(“Your men know all about him, Mr. Holt.” Fanny hesitated. “He’s) +change the first period to a comma. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XX] +</p> + +<p> +“disreputable scoundrel. Have you <i>see</i> him lately?” to <i>seen</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“He laughed, and he had a very hearty and <i>pleasnat</i> laugh” to +<i>pleasant</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXI] +</p> + +<p> +(“Did this lady give any address”) add question mark. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXVI] +</p> + +<p> +“he said, and she <i>queezed</i> his arm affectionately” to <i>squeezed</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXVII] +</p> + +<p> +“So that he shall not read <i>Braile</i> or write Braille” to <i>Braille</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXVIII] +</p> + +<p> +“There were two <i>peple</i> whom he desired greatly to meet.” to <i>people</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXIX] +</p> + +<p> +“though <i>fortuately</i> I hadn’t a gun in my possession” to +<i>fortunately</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXXII] +</p> + +<p> +“and spends a <i>lots</i> of money in charity” to <i>lot</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXXIV] +</p> + +<p> +“The joy of accomplishment set his <i>heat</i> beating faster” to <i>heart</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[CHAPTER XXXVI] +</p> + +<p> +(“I wondered what door <i>his</i> tumbler lock was on,”) to <i>this</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXXVIII] +</p> + +<p> +“He looked down at the bag and the writing-case. and there was regret” +change the period to a comma. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXXIX] +</p> + +<p> +(“They must have had this scheme in mind for some time, for a month +before David’s death. Dr. Judd had completed the purchase of Todd’s +Home.) delete the period after <i>death</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XLIV] +</p> + +<p> +(“David! It frightens, me. Tell him not to!”) delete the comma. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XLV] +</p> + +<p> +“I was prepared to spare almost anybody <i>unlesss</i> my life” to +<i>unless</i>. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[End of text] +</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75589 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75589-h/images/cover.jpg b/75589-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0fff636 --- /dev/null +++ b/75589-h/images/cover.jpg |
