The Bravo of London

by Ernest Bramah

  ‘After all, there are two ends to every stick,’ he reminded her, ‘and it’s quite on the cards for mine to be the one that next waggles. You did finely the other day and it’s going to be of very great use, but for heaven’s sake, my dear, don’t get yourself into any scrape following things up—only if you do, remember that I’m the chap you’ve always got to fall back on.’

  ‘I’m not going to promise anything after the perfectly fetid way you’re running off,’ she retorted. ‘Still, it’s pretty obvious that I shall stay here and do what I can for poor Geoffrey in the circumstances.’ It occurred to the hearer, who was accustomed to glean much of his knowledge from the infinitesimals of tone, that there was a spice of ‘It is my duty and I will’ in this praiseworthy resolve which fell short of the ecstatic resolution of the Saturday Nora. It was an unwelcome suggestion but was this frank high-spirited niece of his becoming slightly calculating?

  Mr Carrados was justified in his assumption that it was his end of the stick that might register the next movement, but it was Nora who supplied the action. And if the sudden and unannounced arrival of Miss Melhuish at ‘The Turrets’ contained any element of surprise for him, his habitual imperturbability enabled him to pass it off with disarming lightness.

  ‘This is uncommonly nice of you, Nora,’ he said, before she had had the chance to embark on any explanation; ‘I was just wondering what to do next. The dogs’ cemetery of course as soon as we’ve had some sort of refreshment. I’m glad you’ve taken me at my word about it.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she begged, and immediately his face responded to the need of another sort of mettle. ‘Miss Tilehurst isn’t here now. I came because I was frightened.’

  ‘That’s even nicer of you, my dear,’ he replied, and took a seat on the couch close to her. ‘I expect the pair of us can down it.’

  ‘Uncle Max,’ she said, with a childlike directness that put such courtesies aside. ‘Did you know?’

  At this, every instinct in him threw up a guard. There was always the chance of giving something away by taking too much for granted.

  ‘Did I know?’ he repeated, conscientiously searching his mind. ‘Surely, Nora, that’s a little vague. Did I know what exactly?’

  ‘If you do know there’s no need to ask,’ she replied sharply. ‘It can refer to nothing else—that he is not Geoffrey.’

  Possibly she had looked for an exclamation, either of incredulity or of assent according to his knowledge, but Mr Carrados merely continued to look pleasantly interested.

  ‘I did not know—I could not really know because I had never up to then met him. I could only admit that such a thing might be, although the chances were a million to one against that explanation. So that is it, actually? How did you find out?’

  ‘I think I must have known all along—without knowing that I knew, if that doesn’t sound too silly. You see, Uncle, it isn’t anything to do with anything, being in love with a person—no matter how soppy it may sound to you in your wisdom. It’s just a sort of Itness to do with one another and it won’t work under any form of substitution. At first when I missed something that ought to have been there, I thought that it was just a rather contemptible streak of disillusion that Geoffrey should have been so terrified by anything that could have happened as to be scared into that condition, but of course if Geoffrey really had been it would have only made me care for him all the more.’

  ‘And then?’ prompted Carrados, for Nora seemed to be in danger of losing herself in retrospection. ‘Something definite happened?’

  ‘I had seen Geoff—him once or twice and tried to get him out of that awful apathy but on each occasion he seemed to fight rather shy of me. Then yesterday I met him in the road—he’d been to the mill, I found—and he more or less had to walk with me unless he bolted for it.’

  ‘Do you mean that up to then you hadn’t been close to him?’

  ‘I don’t seem to have been, when I think it over,’ she assented. ‘You know that on the Saturday I was with you all the time, and since then it’s always been in the house where he likes to keep in the shade and that poor dear tries to make everything go on as though nothing unusual had happened, and at the same time gets between him and anyone else who’s there, like a troubled old hen with the last survivor of a brood of chickens.’

  ‘Yes, I think Olivant must have been pretty word-perfect with his piece. I must find out where he was educated.’

  ‘Well, as I say, we walked along the road on the way back. He doesn’t speak yet—he doesn’t try to, but I knew from his aunt that he has written a few words once or twice, just as that man said he would begin by doing. So I thought I’d try that.’

  ‘Yes?’ encouraged Mr Carrados.

  ‘I suppose it must sound terribly sloshy to you, Uncle Max,’ faltered Nora.

  ‘Never mind that, my dear. I have always understood that under the most sportswomanlike jumper a tender heart might be beating.’

  ‘I just wrote, “Am I still the same to you, dear?” and gave him the piece of paper. He took it and seemed to read it in that dreadfully detached way he has towards everything and then very slowly and shakily—all straight lines and angles you know—he scrawled, “Dear. Dearest,” underneath the other.’

  ‘That was fairly satisfactory at all events. It indicated a sufficiently reciprocal superlativeness of feeling.’

  ‘The words didn’t matter in the least. I only tell you exactly what took place for you to see that I had a perfect opportunity of noticing … On the Friday—the day before everything happened—we had been playing tennis and in some way Geoffrey jagged a finger-nail so that it kept catching in his things whenever he touched it. You know how beastly that feels and it was on the first finger of his right hand, so I took a little pair of nail scissors that I carry in my bag and filed down the corner of the nail for him until the notch was taken out and as smooth as ever. It was hardly anything, unless you looked for it of course, but one corner of the nail was down close and quite unlike the rest … and as I watched him write I found that I was looking at that finger-tip and suddenly it flashed on me that the nail I saw was just the same length all round and it couldn’t possibly be the one I had altered.’

  ‘Good,’ commented the blind man, coming to his feet and beginning to walk about the room and in and out among the furniture; ‘that’s the sort of thing that takes my eye: It could not possibly be—and it couldn’t! As evidence I don’t suppose that it would be worth mentioning to a jury, who would be perfectly satisfied to convict a man who has been “picked out” of a dozen on the strength of a small brown moustache and a conspicuous limp, and yet it puts everything else behind it. Forgive me!’

  ‘For just a moment I found myself groping among the background of my mind, trying to drag out a possibility that it might have been another finger or the other hand although I knew perfectly well that it wasn’t. Then I looked up and saw his face and although every line and every feature was the same I realised all at once that he wasn’t in the least like Geoffrey.’

  ‘Did he see that you had guessed?’

  ‘I hardly know. I heard your voice saying: “Keep your wits about you and don’t give anything away!” and I pulled myself together. It was all over in a second or two and I got away as soon as I could then and that’s the last I saw of him. Oh, Uncle Max, why ever didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘How could I, child? I didn’t know myself. I only took into consideration that it might be remotely possible. It was no good putting the idea into your head if it was a false scent but I dropped a hint or two that might back you up if you struck that line on your own initiative. It was really too much to hope for. Consider: of all the hundreds of thousands of pairs who have been said to be “as like as two peas” not one in a thousand could really pass for another. And yet how beautifully it rounds everything off as no other theory could—the presence and exact role of our providential medical friend, the behaviour and deficiencies of the fictitious Tilehurst, and the necessary im
molation of the unfortunate dog that couldn’t have been hoodwinked by mere externals.’

  ‘That’s all very well and I have no doubt that it’s frightfully intriguing and all that,’ said Nora with some impatience, ‘but it doesn’t happen to be the one thing that seems of any importance to me to be doing.’

  ‘Implying the real Geoffrey Tilehurst?’

  ‘Naturally—what else? Where is Geoffrey now and what are they doing to him?’

  ‘At all events they are scarcely likely to have harmed him. They took the trouble to drug him to bring off the coup with a minimum of violence. Probably he is being held somewhere until the business is through when they will clear off and release him.’

  ‘Or leave him gagged and bound somewhere so that they may get a longer start. The tender mercies of this particular gang are not likely to be very fastidious, I take it?’

  ‘From what I know of the gentleman who is presumably acting as managing-director of the firm I shouldn’t describe them as rabid humanitarians,’ he admitted. ‘The one thing you can rely on is that they won’t do anything unnecessary that is palpably to their own disadvantage.’

  ‘That’s very consoling,’ she retorted; ‘isn’t it? Well, Uncle Max, here I am. What do you propose to do to rescue Geoffrey before they happen to find it to their advantage to hold him up between themselves and a splash of C.I.D. bullets?’

  ‘I think you exaggerate the risk, my dear,’ he protested mildly. ‘Geoffrey is as likely as not to be very well treated wherever he is, and I dare wager that he’d be perfectly willing to stick it for a few more days if that will mean our netting the whole gang with evidence that will convict them.’

  ‘Perhaps he would, Uncle Max, but we can’t ask him that and in the circumstances I’ve got to do what I consider the best thing for his interests. Get Geoffrey clear and then asphyxiate the lot and welcome.’

  ‘But, my child, if Geoffrey is to be got out at this immature stage it blows the gaff completely. Half of the crowd will vanish, including all the worst, and we shall have no proof at all of the real depths of the conspiracy.’

  ‘Sorry, Uncle; I know how attractive that part of it is to you, but Geoffrey’s safety is more important to me than unearthing a plot to bomb the Houses of Parliament.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ he hastened to assure her; ‘so it is to me—er, theoretically. The only point of difference between us is that I see the extreme desirability of doing both. Secure the offenders in the act and Geoffrey’s release automatically follows.’

  ‘It might. On the other hand there might be one of those regrettable hitches where the experiment is perfectly successful only they unfortunately fail to revive the subject. As it is, I have a certain amount of leeway to make up for assuming that Geoffrey had been thrown into a blue funk—perhaps I shan’t be quite so heroic about my own nerve until I’ve shown some.’

  ‘Well, you made up a fair share when you got us that house in Maplewood Avenue, I should say,’ he reminded her. ‘A good deal may depend on what goes on there before we are through with it.’

  ‘I wanted to ask you about that—the house I followed Olivant to. Have you found out anything yet?’

  ‘Nothing at all, for the sufficient reason that so far the action hasn’t reached there—the first move must come from Tapsfield. Of course if I had given Scotland Yard the tip they would have picketed the place but I saw no reason to make the Yard a present of the facts until I had a pretty complete case to gloat over them about. So that without letting it go out of my own hands I could only cover your end. I may decide to let Inspector Beedel in sooner than I had intended now—this dual Tilehurst business considerably modifies the outlook. And, apropos egad—that secluded old roomy house—er, yes; it might be as well to.’

  ‘Go on, Uncle Max,’ said Nora pleasantly. ‘I like to watch your exceptional mind at work. Apropos the disappearance of Geoffrey, and that big old lonely house, you were saying—?’

  ‘Saying, Nora? Only that if one is to do any good there it will be necessary—in due course—to get considerably more assistance.’

  ‘Exactly what I was thinking as you spoke, dear. Both thoughts. I’m glad that there are points of the case where we have the same ideas. Don’t think me presumptuous, Uncle, but it enables me to leave that part in your hands with every confidence.’

  ‘My dear,’ said Mr Carrados, bringing his involved perambulation to a close in front of her, ‘I feel in a way responsible for letting you into this and no doubt that makes me seem fussy—’

  ‘That’s quite all right, Uncle,’ replied Nora cheerfully. ‘Mother would be ever so much obliged to you, I’m sure. If you—at the other end—happen to see her before I do again I know that you’ll be able to satisfy her that I’m not likely to get into mischief.’

  ‘I don’t doubt that I shall,’ he agreed, with a rueful acceptance of the position. ‘I only wish I could satisfy myself as well while I’m about it. But you aren’t going already?’

  ‘Yes. It is rather a disappointment, isn’t it? But I take it that the ordinary social amenities are suspended for the nonce—whatever a nonce may be—and you’ve given me what may be rather a bright idea.’

  ‘Then in return perhaps you will give me just an ordinary one—as to what it’s your intention to be up to now?’

  ‘Well, I don’t quite know yet or of course I should value your advice immensely. You see, Uncle Max, I rather take after you in one thing that I’ve noticed about your work—we both like to keep an open mind and to be decided by the requirements of the moment.’

  ‘And you are determined to tell me nothing—’

  ‘There’s nothing really to tell … But isn’t there a sort of Right by First Discovery? And, well, in a way I was the one to discover that house that he went to, wasn’t I?’

  ‘It seems to me, Joolby,’ said Mr Nickle, picking his words with the air of elegant disdain which had the double effect of sometimes making the commonplace sound almost impressive and of always making the cripple secretly hate him rather more than before, ‘it seems to me definitely to put the final lid on. If you take my advice you’ll cut your losses, call everything off, and get Vallett out of the way so as to red herring the trail before they sight you.’

  ‘If I took your advice, Nickle, and chaps like you, I should be pushing a little truck about Limehouse selling firewood,’ replied Mr Joolby. ‘Your trouble is that you see blue whenever you hear a whistle round the corner. This is going through, whatever happens.’

  ‘Amiable lunatic,’ murmured Nickle, turning again to the cypher message.

  There were four of them present in Mr Joolby’s back office behind the shop in Padgett Street and to judge by their morose looks things were becoming none too rosy for the Tapsfield undertaking. Joolby himself swelled and fumed in a venomous mood against gods, men, and devils; Nickle stretched his ‘I-told-you-so’ pose to its most offensive power and the other two, mere hirelings of crime on the dealer’s long waiting list, bit their lips gloomily and exchanged looks of mutual support and mutual instigation.

  ‘That’s all very well, governor—“whatever happens”,’ said the more assertive of the two at this grandiose challenge, ‘but what about we blokes as’ll be left in it? You’ll take bleed’n’ good care to have plenty of time to do a guy when the fuse blows out, but it’ll find Snooky and me stuck in a jam all right and no one’s going to cut across and drop the signal.’

  ‘And how am I going to “do a guy”, you foolish fellow, if it comes to wrong?’ demanded Mr Joolby, glowering heavily. ‘You talk as if I could hop, skip and jump and leave everything behind me. Aren’t I chained to the ground like what none of you aren’t? Aren’t I so tied to my house and shop here where I have thousands of pounds-worth of stuff—though, mind you, I can’t sell it—that I should starve if I left them behind me? Was there ever such monkey chatter!’

  ‘All the same, governor, what he says is right,’ put in the other, anxious to back up his friend now that
the first step had been taken. ‘You’re here, aren’t you, if it comes to a bunk but we’re there, cut off so to speak, and if anything slips, like what that bloke makes out in his letter, we shan’t have half an earthly. Any reasonable risk’s neither here nor there, governor, but it’s no use blinkin’ a blinkin’ moral.’

  ‘“If it go wrong,” “if something slip,” “is that a cop?” “Mammy come and give Bertie his dummy,”’ bellowed Joolby, wrought almost to frenzy by the renewed thwarting of his cherished plans. ‘Suffering Jesus! Am I the only one in the crowd with guts enough to cross a road in the dark or to walk past a police-station in the daylight? Isn’t this the chance of a lifetime? Have either of you ever made a couple of quids at once in your puff before—pinching goods from the back of delivery vans and smooching lead off empty houses? And now in less than a week you’ll have enough to keep you in beer to the end of your natural. Doesn’t that make you brave enough to face even a chained bulldog?’

  ‘That’s right enough, governor, and if there wasn’t—’

  ‘Oh my God! I’m going out to breathe the pure air of Shadwell,’ exclaimed Mr Nickle, flinging himself from his chair in an access of fastidious irritation. ‘It’s like being in a gory squirrel cage with you three going round and round and getting nowhere.’