Max Carrados Page 3

  THE TRAGEDY AT BROOKBEND COTTAGE

  "Max," said Mr Carlyle, when Parkinson had closed the door behind him,"this is Lieutenant Hollyer, whom you consented to see."

  "To hear," corrected Carrados, smiling straight into the healthy andrather embarrassed face of the stranger before him. "Mr Hollyer knows ofmy disability?"

  "Mr Carlyle told me," said the young man, "but, as a matter of fact, Ihad heard of you before, Mr Carrados, from one of our men. It was inconnexion with the foundering of the _Ivan Saratov_."

  Carrados wagged his head in good-humoured resignation.

  "And the owners were sworn to inviolable secrecy!" he exclaimed. "Well,it is inevitable, I suppose. Not another scuttling case, Mr Hollyer?"

  "No, mine is quite a private matter," replied the lieutenant. "Mysister, Mrs Creake--but Mr Carlyle would tell you better than I can. Heknows all about it."

  "No, no; Carlyle is a professional. Let me have it in the rough, MrHollyer. My ears are my eyes, you know."

  "Very well, sir. I can tell you what there is to tell, right enough, butI feel that when all's said and done it must sound very little toanother, although it seems important enough to me."

  "We have occasionally found trifles of significance ourselves," saidCarrados encouragingly. "Don't let that deter you."

  This was the essence of Lieutenant Hollyer's narrative:

  "I have a sister, Millicent, who is married to a man called Creake. Sheis about twenty-eight now and he is at least fifteen years older.Neither my mother (who has since died), nor I, cared very much aboutCreake. We had nothing particular against him, except, perhaps, themoderate disparity of age, but none of us appeared to have anything incommon. He was a dark, taciturn man, and his moody silence froze upconversation. As a result, of course, we didn't see much of each other."

  "This, you must understand, was four or five years ago, Max," interposedMr Carlyle officiously.

  Carrados maintained an uncompromising silence. Mr Carlyle blew his noseand contrived to impart a hurt significance into the operation. ThenLieutenant Hollyer continued:

  "Millicent married Creake after a very short engagement. It was afrightfully subdued wedding--more like a funeral to me. The manprofessed to have no relations and apparently he had scarcely anyfriends or business acquaintances. He was an agent for something orother and had an office off Holborn. I suppose he made a living out ofit then, although we knew practically nothing of his private affairs,but I gather that it has been going down since, and I suspect that forthe past few years they have been getting along almost entirely onMillicent's little income. You would like the particulars of that?"

  "Please," assented Carrados.

  "When our father died about seven years ago, he left three thousandpounds. It was invested in Canadian stock and brought in a little over ahundred a year. By his will my mother was to have the income of that forlife and on her death it was to pass to Millicent, subject to thepayment of a lump sum of five hundred pounds to me. But my fatherprivately suggested to me that if I should have no particular use forthe money at the time, he would propose my letting Millicent have theincome of it until I did want it, as she would not be particularly welloff. You see, Mr Carrados, a great deal more had been spent on myeducation and advancement than on her; I had my pay, and, of course, Icould look out for myself better than a girl could."

  "Quite so," agreed Carrados.

  "Therefore I did nothing about that," continued the lieutenant. "Threeyears ago I was over again but I did not see much of them. They wereliving in lodgings. That was the only time since the marriage that Ihave seen them until last week. In the meanwhile our mother had died andMillicent had been receiving her income. She wrote me several lettersat the time. Otherwise we did not correspond much, but about a year agoshe sent me their new address--Brookbend Cottage, Mulling Common--ahouse that they had taken. When I got two months' leave I invited myselfthere as a matter of course, fully expecting to stay most of my timewith them, but I made an excuse to get away after a week. The place wasdismal and unendurable, the whole life and atmosphere indescribablydepressing." He looked round with an instinct of caution, leaned forwardearnestly, and dropped his voice. "Mr Carrados, it is my absoluteconviction that Creake is only waiting for a favourable opportunity tomurder Millicent."

  "Go on," said Carrados quietly. "A week of the depressing surroundingsof Brookbend Cottage would not alone convince you of that, Mr Hollyer."

  "I am not so sure," declared Hollyer doubtfully. "There was a feeling ofsuspicion and--before me--polite hatred that would have gone a good waytowards it. All the same there _was_ something more definite. Millicenttold me this the day after I went there. There is no doubt that a fewmonths ago Creake deliberately planned to poison her with someweed-killer. She told me the circumstances in a rather distressedmoment, but afterwards she refused to speak of it again--even weaklydenied it--and, as a matter of fact, it was with the greatest difficultythat I could get her at any time to talk about her husband or hisaffairs. The gist of it was that she had the strongest suspicion thatCreake doctored a bottle of stout which he expected she would drink forher supper when she was alone. The weed-killer, properly labelled, butalso in a beer bottle, was kept with other miscellaneous liquids in thesame cupboard as the beer but on a high shelf. When he found that it hadmiscarried he poured away the mixture, washed out the bottle and put inthe dregs from another. There is no doubt in my mind that if he had comeback and found Millicent dead or dying he would have contrived it toappear that she had made a mistake in the dark and drunk some of thepoison before she found out."

  "Yes," assented Carrados. "The open way; the safe way."

  "You must understand that they live in a very small style, Mr Carrados,and Millicent is almost entirely in the man's power. The only servantthey have is a woman who comes in for a few hours every day. The houseis lonely and secluded. Creake is sometimes away for days and nights ata time, and Millicent, either through pride or indifference, seems tohave dropped off all her old friends and to have made no others. Hemight poison her, bury the body in the garden, and be a thousand milesaway before anyone began even to inquire about her. What am I to do, MrCarrados?"

  "He is less likely to try poison than some other means now," ponderedCarrados. "That having failed, his wife will always be on her guard. Hemay know, or at least suspect, that others know. No.... Thecommon-sense precaution would be for your sister to leave the man, MrHollyer. She will not?"

  "No," admitted Hollyer, "she will not. I at once urged that." The youngman struggled with some hesitation for a moment and then blurted out:"The fact is, Mr Carrados, I don't understand Millicent. She is not thegirl she was. She hates Creake and treats him with a silent contemptthat eats into their lives like acid, and yet she is so jealous of himthat she will let nothing short of death part them. It is a horriblelife they lead. I stood it for a week and I must say, much as I dislikemy brother-in-law, that he has something to put up with. If only he gotinto a passion like a man and killed her it wouldn't be altogetherincomprehensible."

  "That does not concern us," said Carrados. "In a game of this kind onehas to take sides and we have taken ours. It remains for us to see thatour side wins. You mentioned jealousy, Mr Hollyer. Have you any ideawhether Mrs Creake has real ground for it?"

  "I should have told you that," replied Lieutenant Hollyer. "I happenedto strike up with a newspaper man whose office is in the same block asCreake's. When I mentioned the name he grinned. 'Creake,' he said, 'oh,he's the man with the romantic typist, isn't he?' 'Well, he's mybrother-in-law,' I replied. 'What about the typist?' Then the chap shutup like a knife. 'No, no,' he said, 'I didn't know he was married. Idon't want to get mixed up in anything of that sort. I only said thathe had a typist. Well, what of that? So have we; so has everyone.' Therewas nothing more to be got out of him, but the remark and the grinmeant--well, about as usual, Mr Carrados."

  Carrados turned to his friend.

  "I suppose you know all about the typist by now, Lou
is?"

  "We have had her under efficient observation, Max," replied Mr Carlyle,with severe dignity.

  "Is she unmarried?"

  "Yes; so far as ordinary repute goes, she is."

  "That is all that is essential for the moment. Mr Hollyer opens up threeexcellent reasons why this man might wish to dispose of his wife. If weaccept the suggestion of poisoning--though we have only a jealouswoman's suspicion for it--we add to the wish the determination. Well, wewill go forward on that. Have you got a photograph of Mr Creake?"

  The lieutenant took out his pocket-book.

  "Mr Carlyle asked me for one. Here is the best I could get."

  Carrados rang the bell.

  "This, Parkinson," he said, when the man appeared, "is a photograph of aMr----What first name, by the way?"

  "Austin," put in Hollyer, who was following everything with a boyishmixture of excitement and subdued importance.

  "--of a Mr Austin Creake. I may require you to recognize him."

  Parkinson glanced at the print and returned it to his master's hand.

  "May I inquire if it is a recent photograph of the gentleman, sir?" heasked.

  "About six years ago," said the lieutenant, taking in this new actor inthe drama with frank curiosity. "But he is very little changed."

  "Thank you, sir. I will endeavour to remember Mr Creake, sir."

  Lieutenant Hollyer stood up as Parkinson left the room. The interviewseemed to be at an end.

  "Oh, there's one other matter," he remarked. "I am afraid that I didrather an unfortunate thing while I was at Brookbend. It seemed to methat as all Millicent's money would probably pass into Creake's handssooner or later I might as well have my five hundred pounds, if only tohelp her with afterwards. So I broached the subject and said that Ishould like to have it now as I had an opportunity for investing."

  "And you think?"

  "It may possibly influence Creake to act sooner than he otherwise mighthave done. He may have got possession of the principal even and find itvery awkward to replace it."

  "So much the better. If your sister is going to be murdered it may aswell be done next week as next year so far as I am concerned. Excuse mybrutality, Mr Hollyer, but this is simply a case to me and I regard itstrategically. Now Mr Carlyle's organization can look after Mrs Creakefor a few weeks but it cannot look after her for ever. By increasing theimmediate risk we diminish the permanent risk."

  "I see," agreed Hollyer. "I'm awfully uneasy but I'm entirely in yourhands."

  "Then we will give Mr Creake every inducement and every opportunity toget to work. Where are you staying now?"

  "Just now with some friends at St Albans."

  "That is too far." The inscrutable eyes retained their tranquil depthbut a new quality of quickening interest in the voice made Mr Carlyleforget the weight and burden of his ruffled dignity. "Give me a fewminutes, please. The cigarettes are behind you, Mr Hollyer." The blindman walked to the window and seemed to look out over the cypress-shadedlawn. The lieutenant lit a cigarette and Mr Carlyle picked up _Punch_.Then Carrados turned round again.

  "You are prepared to put your own arrangements aside?" he demanded ofhis visitor.

  "Certainly."

  "Very well. I want you to go down now--straight from here--to BrookbendCottage. Tell your sister that your leave is unexpectedly cut short andthat you sail to-morrow."

  "The _Martian_?"

  "No, no; the _Martian_ doesn't sail. Look up the movements on your waythere and pick out a boat that does. Say you are transferred. Add thatyou expect to be away only two or three months and that you really wantthe five hundred pounds by the time of your return. Don't stay in thehouse long, please."

  "I understand, sir."

  "St Albans is too far. Make your excuse and get away from there to-day.Put up somewhere in town, where you will be in reach of the telephone.Let Mr Carlyle and myself know where you are. Keep out of Creake's way.I don't want actually to tie you down to the house, but we may requireyour services. We will let you know at the first sign of anything doingand if there is nothing to be done we must release you."

  "I don't mind that. Is there nothing more that I can do now?"

  "Nothing. In going to Mr Carlyle you have done the best thing possible;you have put your sister into the care of the shrewdest man in London."Whereat the object of this quite unexpected eulogy found himselfbecoming covered with modest confusion.

  "Well, Max?" remarked Mr Carlyle tentatively when they were alone.

  "Well, Louis?"

  "Of course it wasn't worth while rubbing it in before young Hollyer,but, as a matter of fact, every single man carries the life of any otherman--only one, mind you--in his hands, do what you will."

  "Provided he doesn't bungle," acquiesced Carrados.

  "Quite so."

  "And also that he is absolutely reckless of the consequences."

  "Of course."

  "Two rather large provisos. Creake is obviously susceptible to both.Have you seen him?"

  "No. As I told you, I put a man on to report his habits in town. Then,two days ago, as the case seemed to promise some interest--for hecertainly is deeply involved with the typist, Max, and the thing mighttake a sensational turn any time--I went down to Mulling Common myself.Although the house is lonely it is on the electric tram route. You knowthe sort of market garden rurality that about a dozen miles out ofLondon offers--alternate bricks and cabbages. It was easy enough to getto know about Creake locally. He mixes with no one there, goes into townat irregular times but generally every day, and is reputed to bedevilish hard to get money out of. Finally I made the acquaintance of anold fellow who used to do a day's gardening at Brookbend occasionally.He has a cottage and a garden of his own with a greenhouse, and thebusiness cost me the price of a pound of tomatoes."

  "Was it--a profitable investment?"

  "As tomatoes, yes; as information, no. The old fellow had the fataldisadvantage from our point of view of labouring under a grievance. Afew weeks ago Creake told him that he would not require him again as hewas going to do his own gardening in future."

  "That is something, Louis."

  "If only Creake was going to poison his wife with hyoscyamine and buryher, instead of blowing her up with a dynamite cartridge and claimingthat it came in among the coal."

  "True, true. Still----"

  "However, the chatty old soul had a simple explanation for everythingthat Creake did. Creake was mad. He had even seen him flying a kite inhis garden where it was bound to get wrecked among the trees. 'A lad often would have known better,' he declared. And certainly the kite didget wrecked, for I saw it hanging over the road myself. But that a saneman should spend his time 'playing with a toy' was beyond him."

  "A good many men have been flying kites of various kinds lately," saidCarrados. "Is he interested in aviation?"

  "I dare say. He appears to have some knowledge of scientific subjects.Now what do you want me to do, Max?"

  "Will you do it?"

  "Implicitly--subject to the usual reservations."

  "Keep your man on Creake in town and let me have his reports after youhave seen them. Lunch with me here now. 'Phone up to your office thatyou are detained on unpleasant business and then give the deservingParkinson an afternoon off by looking after me while we take a motor runround Mulling Common. If we have time we might go on to Brighton, feedat the 'Ship,' and come back in the cool."

  "Amiable and thrice lucky mortal," sighed Mr Carlyle, his glancewandering round the room.

  But, as it happened, Brighton did not figure in that day's itinerary. Ithad been Carrados's intention merely to pass Brookbend Cottage on thisoccasion, relying on his highly developed faculties, aided by MrCarlyle's description, to inform him of the surroundings. A hundredyards before they reached the house he had given an order to hischauffeur to drop into the lowest speed and they were leisurely drawingpast when a discovery by Mr Carlyle modified their plans.

  "By Jupiter!" that gentleman suddenly exclaimed,
"there's a board up,Max. The place is to be let."

  Carrados picked up the tube again. A couple of sentences passed and thecar stopped by the roadside, a score of paces past the limit of thegarden. Mr Carlyle took out his notebook and wrote down the address of afirm of house agents.

  "You might raise the bonnet and have a look at the engines, Harris,"said Carrados. "We want to be occupied here for a few minutes."

  "This is sudden; Hollyer knew nothing of their leaving," remarked MrCarlyle.

  "Probably not for three months yet. All the same, Louis, we will go onto the agents and get a card to view, whether we use it to-day or not."

  A thick hedge, in its summer dress effectively screening the housebeyond from public view, lay between the garden and the road. Above thehedge showed an occasional shrub; at the corner nearest to the car achestnut flourished. The wooden gate, once white; which they had passed,was grimed and rickety. The road itself was still the unpretentiouscountry lane that the advent of the electric car had found it. WhenCarrados had taken in these details there seemed little else to notice.He was on the point of giving Harris the order to go on when his earcaught a trivial sound.

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

  "I don't hear anyone," replied the other, but as he spoke a door bangednoisily and Mr Carlyle slipped into another seat and ensconced himselfbehind a copy of _The Globe_.

  "Creake himself," he whispered across the car, as a man appeared at thegate. "Hollyer was right; he is hardly changed. Waiting for a car, Isuppose."

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

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

  Before even the shorter period had run out they were repaid. Atelegraph-boy cycled leisurely along the road, and, leaving his machineat the gate, went up to the cottage. Evidently there was no reply, forin less than a minute he was trundling past them back again. Round thebend an approaching tram clanged its bell noisily, and, quickened by thewarning sound, Mr Creake again appeared, this time with a smallportmanteau in his hand. With a backward glance he hurried on towardsthe next stopping-place, and, boarding the car as it slackened down, hewas carried out of their knowledge.

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

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

  "By going to the post office, Louis."

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

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

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

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

  A little later, having left the car at the beginning of the stragglingHigh Street, the two men called at the village post office. They hadalready visited the house agent and obtained an order to view BrookbendCottage, declining, with some difficulty, the clerk's persistent offerto accompany them. The reason was soon forthcoming. "As a matter offact," explained the young man, "the present tenant is under _our_notice to leave."

  "Unsatisfactory, eh?" said Carrados encouragingly.

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

  "We will make every allowance," replied Carrados.

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

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

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

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

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

  Carrados put down a coin and received his change.

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

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

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

  "Ask for it," was the laconic explanation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Mr Carlyle ventured a genial commonplace in the hope of inducingconversation. The result was not encouraging. Doubtless they would havegone through the house under the same frigid guidance had not Carradosbeen at fault in a way that Mr Carlyle had never known him fail before.In crossing the hall he stumbled over a mat and almost fell.

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

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

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

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

  She put her hand on his arm very lightly.

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

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

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

  "A very pleasant outlook," declared Mr Carlyle.

  "Oh, I suppose so," admitted the lady vaguely. The room, in fact, lookedover the leafy garden and the road beyond. It had a French windowopening on to a small balcony, and to this, under the strange influencethat always attracted him to light, Carrados walked.

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

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

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

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

  It was the first time she had mentioned her husband; Mr Carlyle prickedup his ears.

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

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

  But the window was already open, and Carrados, facing the various pointsof the compass, took in the bearings.

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

  She shrugged her shoulders half contemptuously.

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

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

  "I was going to say that I had never even been out on it, but that wouldnot be quite true. It has two uses for me, both equally romantic; Ioccasionally shake a duster from it, and when my husband returns latewithout his latchkey he wakes me up and I come out here and drop himmine."

  Further revelation of Mr Creake's nocturnal habits was cut off, greatlyto Mr Carlyle's annoyance, by a cough of unmistakable significance fromthe foot of the stairs. They had heard a trade cart drive up to thegate, a knock at the door, and the heavy-footed woman tramp along thehall.

  "Excuse me a minute, please," said Mrs Creake.

  "Louis," said Carrados, in a sharp whisper, the moment they were alone,"stand against the door."

  With extreme plausibility Mr Carlyle began to admire a picture sosituated that while he was there it was impossible to open the door morethan a few inches. From that position he observed his confederate gothrough the curious procedure of kneeling down on the bedroom floor andfor a full minute pressing his ear to the sheet of metal that hadalready engaged his attention. Then he rose to his feet, nodded, dustedhis trousers, and Mr Carlyle moved to a less equivocal position.

  "What a beautiful rose-tree grows up your balcony," remarked Carrados,stepping into the room as Mrs Creake returned. "I suppose you are veryfond of gardening?"

  "I detest it," she replied.

  "But this _Glorie_, so carefully trained----?"

  "Is it?" she replied. "I think my husband was nailing it up recently."By some strange fatality Carrados's most aimless remarks seemed toinvolve the absent Mr Creake. "Do you care to see the garden?"

  The garden proved to be extensive and neglected. Behind the house waschiefly orchard. In front, some semblance of order had been kept up;here it was lawn and shrubbery, and the drive they had walked along.Two things interested Carrados: the soil at the foot of the balcony,which he declared on examination to be particularly suitable for roses,and the fine chestnut-tree in the corner by the road.

  As they walked back to the car Mr Carlyle lamented that they had learnedso little of Creake's movements.

  "Perhaps the telegram will tell us something," suggested Carrados. "Readit, Louis."

  Mr Carlyle cut open the envelope, glanced at the enclosure, and in spiteof his disappointment could not restrain a chuckle.

  "My poor Max," he explained, "you have put yourself to an amount ofingenious trouble for nothing. Creake is evidently taking a few days'holiday and prudently availed himself of the Meteorological Officeforecast before going. Listen: '_Immediate prospect for London warm andsettled. Further outlook cooler but fine._' Well, well; I did get apound of tomatoes for _my_ fourpence."

  "You certainly scored there, Louis," admitted Carrados, with humorousappreciation. "I wonder," he added speculatively, "whether it isCreake's peculiar taste usually to spend his week-end holiday inLondon."

  "Eh?" exclaimed Mr Carlyle, looking at the words again, "by gad, that'srum, Max. They go to Weston-super-Mare. Why on earth should he want toknow about London?"

  "I can make a guess, but before we are satisfied I must come here again.Take another look at that kite, Louis. Are there a few yards of stringhanging loose from it?"

  "Yes, there are."

  "Rather thick string--unusually thick for the purpose?"

  "Yes; but how do you know?"

  As they drove home again Carrados explained, and Mr Carlyle sat aghast,saying incredulously: "Good God, Max, is it possible?"

  An hour later he was satisfied that it was possible. In reply to hisinquiry someone in his office telephoned him the information that "they"had left Paddington by the four-thirty for Weston.

  It was more than a week after his introduction to Carrados thatLieutenant Hollyer had a summons to present himself at The Turretsagain. He found Mr Carlyle already there and the two friends awaitinghis arrival.

  "I stayed in all day after hearing from you this morning, Mr Carrados,"he said, shaking hands. "When I got your second message I was all readyto walk straight out of the house. That's how I did it in the time. Ihope everything is all right?"

  "Excellent," replied Carrados. "You'd better have something before westart. We probably have a long and perhaps an exciting night before us."

  "And certainly a wet one," assented the lieutenant. "It was thunderingover Mulling way as I came along."

  "That is why you are here," said his host. "We are waiting for a certainmessage before we start, and in the meantime you may as well understandwhat we expect to happen. As you saw, there is a thunderstorm coming on.The Meteorological Office morning forecast predicted it for the whole ofLondon if the conditions remained. That was why I kept you in readiness.Within an hour it is now inevitable that we shall experience a deluge.Here and there damage will be done to trees and buildings; here andthere a person will probably be struck and killed."

  "Yes."

  "It is Mr Creake's intention that his wife should be among the victims."

  "I don't exactly follow," said Hollyer, looking from one man to theother. "I quite admit that Creake would be immensely relieved if such athing did happen, but the chance is surely an absurdly remote one."

  "Yet unless we intervene it is precisely what a coroner's jury willdecide has happened. Do you know whether your brother-in-law has anypractical knowledge of electricity, Mr Hollyer?"

  "I cannot say. He was so reserved, and we really knew so little ofhim----"

  "Yet in 1896 an Austin Creake contributed an article on 'AlternatingCurrents' to the American _Scientific World_. That would argue a fairlyintimate acquaintanceship."

  "But do you mean that he is going to direct a flash of lightning?"

  "Only into the minds of the doctor who conducts the post-mortem, andthe coroner. This storm, the opportunity for which he has been waitingfor weeks, is merely the cloak to his act. The weapon which he hasplanned to use--scarcely less powerful than lightning but much moretractable--is the high voltage current of electricity that flows alongthe tram wire at his gate."

  "Oh!" exclaimed Lieutenant Hollyer, as the sudden revelation struck him.

  "Some time between eleven o'clock to-night--about the hour when yoursister goes to bed--and one-thirty in the morning--the time up to whichhe can rely on the current--Creake will throw a stone up at the balconywindow. Most of his preparation has long been made; it only remains forhim to connect up a short length to the window handle and a longer oneat the other end to tap the live wire. That done,
he will wake his wifein the way I have said. The moment she moves the catch of thewindow--and he has carefully filed its parts to ensure perfectcontact--she will be electrocuted as effectually as if she sat in theexecutioner's chair in Sing Sing prison."

  "But what are we doing here!" exclaimed Hollyer, starting to his feet,pale and horrified. "It is past ten now and anything may happen."

  "Quite natural, Mr Hollyer," said Carrados reassuringly, "but you needhave no anxiety. Creake is being watched, the house is being watched,and your sister is as safe as if she slept to-night in Windsor Castle.Be assured that whatever happens he will not be allowed to complete hisscheme; but it is desirable to let him implicate himself to the fullestlimit. Your brother-in-law, Mr Hollyer, is a man with a peculiarcapacity for taking pains."

  "He is a damned cold-blooded scoundrel!" exclaimed the young officerfiercely. "When I think of Millicent five years ago----"

  "Well, for that matter, an enlightened nation has decided thatelectrocution is the most humane way of removing its superfluouscitizens," suggested Carrados mildly. "He is certainly aningenious-minded gentleman. It is his misfortune that in Mr Carlyle hewas fated to be opposed by an even subtler brain----"

  "No, no! Really, Max!" protested the embarrassed gentleman.

  "Mr Hollyer will be able to judge for himself when I tell him that itwas Mr Carlyle who first drew attention to the significance of theabandoned kite," insisted Carrados firmly. "Then, of course, its objectbecame plain to me--as indeed to anyone. For ten minutes, perhaps, awire must be carried from the overhead line to the chestnut-tree. Creakehas everything in his favour, but it is just within possibility that thedriver of an inopportune tram might notice the appendage. What of that?Why, for more than a week he has seen a derelict kite with its yards oftrailing string hanging in the tree. A very calculating mind, MrHollyer. It would be interesting to know what line of action Mr Creakehas mapped out for himself afterwards. I expect he has half-a-dozenartistic little touches up his sleeve. Possibly he would merely singehis wife's hair, burn her feet with a red-hot poker, shiver the glass ofthe French window, and be content with that to let well alone. You see,lightning is so varied in its effects that whatever he did or did not dowould be right. He is in the impregnable position of the body showingall the symptoms of death by lightning shock and nothing else butlightning to account for it--a dilated eye, heart contracted in systole,bloodless lungs shrunk to a third the normal weight, and all the rest ofit. When he has removed a few outward traces of his work Creake mightquite safely 'discover' his dead wife and rush off for the nearestdoctor. Or he may have decided to arrange a convincing alibi, and creepaway, leaving the discovery to another. We shall never know; he willmake no confession."

  "I wish it was well over," admitted Hollyer. "I'm not particularlyjumpy, but this gives me a touch of the creeps."

  "Three more hours at the worst, Lieutenant," said Carrados cheerfully."Ah-ha, something is coming through now."

  He went to the telephone and received a message from one quarter; thenmade another connection and talked for a few minutes with someone else.

  "Everything working smoothly," he remarked between times over hisshoulder. "Your sister has gone to bed, Mr Hollyer."

  Then he turned to the house telephone and distributed his orders.

  "So we," he concluded, "must get up."

  By the time they were ready a large closed motor car was waiting. Thelieutenant thought he recognized Parkinson in the well-swathed formbeside the driver, but there was no temptation to linger for a second onthe steps. Already the stinging rain had lashed the drive into thesemblance of a frothy estuary; all round the lightning jagged its coursethrough the incessant tremulous glow of more distant lightning, whilethe thunder only ceased its muttering to turn at close quarters andcrackle viciously.

  "One of the few things I regret missing," remarked Carrados tranquilly;"but I hear a good deal of colour in it."

  The car slushed its way down to the gate, lurched a little heavilyacross the dip into the road, and, steadying as it came upon thestraight, began to hum contentedly along the deserted highway.

  "We are not going direct?" suddenly inquired Hollyer, after they hadtravelled perhaps half-a-dozen miles. The night was bewildering enoughbut he had the sailor's gift for location.

  "No; through Hunscott Green and then by a field-path to the orchard atthe back," replied Carrados. "Keep a sharp look out for the man with thelantern about here, Harris," he called through the tube.

  "Something flashing just ahead, sir," came the reply, and the car sloweddown and stopped.

  Carrados dropped the near window as a man in glistening waterproofstepped from the shelter of a lich-gate and approached.

  "Inspector Beedel, sir," said the stranger, looking into the car.

  "Quite right, Inspector," said Carrados. "Get in."

  "I have a man with me, sir."

  "We can find room for him as well."

  "We are very wet."

  "So shall we all be soon."

  The lieutenant changed his seat and the two burly forms took places sideby side. In less than five minutes the car stopped again, this time in agrassy country lane.

  "Now we have to face it," announced Carrados. "The inspector will showus the way."

  The car slid round and disappeared into the night, while Beedel led theparty to a stile in the hedge. A couple of fields brought them to theBrookbend boundary. There a figure stood out of the black foliage,exchanged a few words with their guide and piloted them along theshadows of the orchard to the back door of the house.

  "You will find a broken pane near the catch of the scullery window,"said the blind man.

  "Right, sir," replied the inspector. "I have it. Now who goes through?"

  "Mr Hollyer will open the door for us. I'm afraid you must take offyour boots and all wet things, Lieutenant. We cannot risk a single spotinside."

  They waited until the back door opened, then each one divested himselfin a similar manner and passed into the kitchen, where the remains of afire still burned. The man from the orchard gathered together thediscarded garments and disappeared again.

  Carrados turned to the lieutenant.

  "A rather delicate job for you now, Mr Hollyer. I want you to go up toyour sister, wake her, and get her into another room with as little fussas possible. Tell her as much as you think fit and let her understandthat her very life depends on absolute stillness when she is alone.Don't be unduly hurried, but not a glimmer of a light, please."

  Ten minutes passed by the measure of the battered old alarum on thedresser shelf before the young man returned.

  "I've had rather a time of it," he reported, with a nervous laugh, "butI think it will be all right now. She is in the spare room."

  "Then we will take our places. You and Parkinson come with me to thebedroom. Inspector, you have your own arrangements. Mr Carlyle will bewith you."

  They dispersed silently about the house. Hollyer glanced apprehensivelyat the door of the spare room as they passed it but within was as quietas the grave. Their room lay at the other end of the passage.

  "You may as well take your place in the bed now, Hollyer," directedCarrados when they were inside and the door closed. "Keep well downamong the clothes. Creake has to get up on the balcony, you know, and hewill probably peep through the window, but he dare come no farther. Thenwhen he begins to throw up stones slip on this dressing-gown of yoursister's. I'll tell you what to do after."

  The next sixty minutes drew out into the longest hour that thelieutenant had ever known. Occasionally he heard a whisper pass betweenthe two men who stood behind the window curtains, but he could seenothing. Then Carrados threw a guarded remark in his direction.

  "He is in the garden now."

  Something scraped slightly against the outer wall. But the night wasfull of wilder sounds, and in the house the furniture and the boardscreaked and sprung between the yawling of the wind among the chimneys,the rattle of the thunder and the pelting of the rain
. It was a time toquicken the steadiest pulse, and when the crucial moment came, when apebble suddenly rang against the pane with a sound that the tensewaiting magnified into a shivering crash, Hollyer leapt from the bed onthe instant.

  "Easy, easy," warned Carrados feelingly. "We will wait for anotherknock." He passed something across. "Here is a rubber glove. I have cutthe wire but you had better put it on. Stand just for a moment at thewindow, move the catch so that it can blow open a little, and dropimmediately. Now."

  Another stone had rattled against the glass. For Hollyer to go throughhis part was the work merely of seconds, and with a few touches Carradosspread the dressing-gown to more effective disguise about the extendedform. But an unforeseen and in the circumstances rather horribleinterval followed, for Creake, in accordance with some detail of hisnever-revealed plan, continued to shower missile after missile againstthe panes until even the unimpressionable Parkinson shivered.

  "The last act," whispered Carrados, a moment after the throwing hadceased. "He has gone round to the back. Keep as you are. We take covernow." He pressed behind the arras of an extemporized wardrobe, and thespirit of emptiness and desolation seemed once more to reign over thelonely house.

  From half-a-dozen places of concealment ears were straining to catch thefirst guiding sound. He moved very stealthily, burdened, perhaps, bysome strange scruple in the presence of the tragedy that he had notfeared to contrive, paused for a moment at the bedroom door, then openedit very quietly, and in the fickle light read the consummation of hishopes.

  "At last!" they heard the sharp whisper drawn from his relief. "Atlast!"

  He took another step and two shadows seemed to fall upon him frombehind, one on either side. With primitive instinct a cry of terror andsurprise escaped him as he made a desperate movement to wrench himselffree, and for a short second he almost succeeded in dragging one handinto a pocket. Then his wrists slowly came together and the handcuffsclosed.

  "I am Inspector Beedel," said the man on his right side. "You arecharged with the attempted murder of your wife, Millicent Creake."

  "You are mad," retorted the miserable creature, falling into a desperatecalmness. "She has been struck by lightning."

  "No, you blackguard, she hasn't," wrathfully exclaimed hisbrother-in-law, jumping up. "Would you like to see her?"

  "I also have to warn you," continued the inspector impassively, "thatanything you say may be used as evidence against you."

  A startled cry from the farther end of the passage arrested theirattention.

  "Mr Carrados," called Hollyer, "oh, come at once."

  At the open door of the other bedroom stood the lieutenant, his eyesstill turned towards something in the room beyond, a little empty bottlein his hand.

  "Dead!" he exclaimed tragically, with a sob, "with this beside her. Deadjust when she would have been free of the brute."

  The blind man passed into the room, sniffed the air, and laid a gentlehand on the pulseless heart.

  "Yes," he replied. "That, Hollyer, does not always appeal to the woman,strange to say."