Four Max Carrados Detective Stories

by Ernest Bramah

"yes, I will, Max. Here is the clue to what seemsto be a rather remarkable fraud." He put the tetradrachm into hishost's hand. "What do you make of it?"

  For a few seconds Carrados handled the piece with the delicatemanipulation of his finger-tips while Carlyle looked on with aself-appreciative grin. Then with equal gravity the blind man weighedthe coin in the balance of his hand. Finally he touched it with histongue.

  "Well?" demanded the other.

  "Of course I have not much to go on, and if I was more fully in yourconfidence I might come to another conclusion----"

  "Yes, yes," interposed Carlyle, with amused encouragement.

  "Then I should advise you to arrest the parlourmaid, Nina Brun,communicate with the police authorities of Padua for particulars ofthe career of Helene Brunesi, and suggest to Lord Seastoke that heshould return to London to see what further depredations have beenmade in his cabinet."

  Mr. Carlyle's groping hand sought and found a chair, on to which hedropped blankly. His eyes were unable to detach themselves for asingle moment from the very ordinary spectacle of Mr. Carrados'smildly benevolent face, while the sterilized ghost of his nowforgotten amusement still lingered about his features.

  "Good heavens!" he managed to articulate, "how do you know?"

  "Isn't that what you wanted of me?" asked Carrados suavely.

  "Don't humbug, Max," said Carlyle severely. "This is no joke." Anundefined mistrust of his own powers suddenly possessed him in thepresence of this mystery. "How do you come to know of Nina Brun andLord Seastoke?"

  "You are a detective, Louis," replied Carrados. "How does one knowthese things? By using one's eyes and putting two and two together."

  Carlyle groaned and flung out an arm petulantly.

  "Is it all bunkum, Max? Do you really see all the time--though thatdoesn't go very far towards explaining it."

  "Like Vidal, I see very well--at close quarters," replied Carrados,lightly running a forefinger along the inscription on the tetradrachm."For longer range I keep another pair of eyes. Would you like to testthem?"

  Mr. Carlyle's assent was not very gracious; it was, in fact, faintlysulky. He was suffering the annoyance of feeling distinctlyunimpressive in his own department; but he was also curious.

  "The bell is just behind you, if you don't mind," said his host."Parkinson will appear. You might take note of him while he is in."

  The man who had admitted Mr. Carlyle proved to be Parkinson.

  "This gentleman is Mr. Carlyle, Parkinson," explained Carrados themoment the man entered. "You will remember him for the future?"

  Parkinson's apologetic eye swept the visitor from head to foot, but solightly and swiftly that it conveyed to that gentleman the comparisonof being very deftly dusted.

  "I will endeavour to do so, sir," replied Parkinson, turning again tohis master.

  "I shall be at home to Mr. Carlyle whenever he calls. That is all."

  "Very well, sir."

  "Now, Louis," remarked Mr. Carrados briskly, when the door had closedagain, "you have had a good opportunity of studying Parkinson. What ishe like?"

  "In what way?"

  "I mean as a matter of description. I am a blind man--I haven't seenmy servant for twelve years--what idea can you give me of him? I askedyou to notice."

  "I know you did, but your Parkinson is the sort of man who has verylittle about him to describe. He is the embodiment of the ordinary.His height is about average----"

  "Five feet nine," murmured Carrados. "Slightly above the mean."

  "Scarcely noticeably so. Clean-shaven. Medium brown hair. Noparticularly marked features. Dark eyes. Good teeth."

  "False," interposed Carrados. "The teeth--not the statement."

  "Possibly," admitted Mr. Carlyle. "I am not a dental expert and I hadno opportunity of examining Mr. Parkinson's mouth in detail. But whatis the drift of all this?"

  "His clothes?"

  "Oh, just the ordinary evening dress of a valet. There is not muchroom for variety in that."

  "You noticed, in fact, nothing special by which Parkinson could beidentified?"

  "Well, he wore an unusually broad gold ring on the little finger ofthe left hand."

  "But that is removable. And yet Parkinson has an ineradicable mole--asmall one, I admit--on his chin. And you a human sleuth-hound. Oh,Louis!"

  "At all events," retorted Carlyle, writhing a little under thisgood-humoured satire, although it was easy enough to see in itCarrados's affectionate intention--"at all events, I dare say I cangive as good a description of Parkinson as he can give of me."

  "That is what we are going to test. Ring the bell again."

  "Seriously?"

  "Quite. I am trying my eyes against yours. If I can't give you fiftyout of a hundred I'll renounce my private detectorial ambition forever."

  "It isn't quite the same," objected Carlyle, but he rang the bell.

  "Come in and close the door, Parkinson," said Carrados when the manappeared. "Don't look at Mr. Carlyle again--in fact, you had betterstand with your back towards him, he won't mind. Now describe to mehis appearance as you observed it."

  Parkinson tendered his respectful apologies to Mr. Carlyle for theliberty he was compelled to take, by the deferential quality of hisvoice.

  "Mr. Carlyle, sir, wears patent leather boots of about size seven andvery little used. There are five buttons, but on the left boot onebutton--the third up--is missing, leaving loose threads and not themore usual metal fastener. Mr. Carlyle's trousers, sir, are of a darkmaterial, a dark grey line of about a quarter of an inch width on adarker ground. The bottoms are turned permanently up and are, justnow, a little muddy, if I may say so."

  "Very muddy," interposed Mr. Carlyle generously. "It is a wet night,Parkinson."

  "Yes, sir; very unpleasant weather. If you will allow me, sir, I willbrush you in the hall. The mud is dry now, I notice. Then, sir,"continued Parkinson, reverting to the business in hand, "there aredark green cashmere hose. A curb-pattern key-chain passes into theleft-hand trouser pocket."

  From the visitor's nether garments the photographic-eyed Parkinsonproceeded to higher ground, and with increasing wonder Mr. Carlylelistened to the faithful catalogue of his possessions. Hisfetter-and-link albert of gold and platinum was minutely described.His spotted blue ascot, with its gentlemanly pearl scarfpin, was setforth, and the fact that the buttonhole in the left lapel of hismorning coat showed signs of use was duly noted. What Parkinson saw herecorded, but he made no deductions. A handkerchief carried in thecuff of the right sleeve was simply that to him and not an indicationthat Mr. Carlyle was, indeed, left-handed.

  But a more delicate part of Parkinson's undertaking remained. Heapproached it with a double cough.

  "As regards Mr. Carlyle's personal appearance, sir--"

  "No, enough!" cried the gentleman concerned hastily. "I am more thansatisfied. You are a keen observer, Parkinson."

  "I have trained myself to suit my master's requirements, sir," repliedthe man. He looked towards Mr. Carrados, received a nod and withdrew.

  Mr. Carlyle was the first to speak.

  "That man of yours would be worth five pounds a week to me, Max," heremarked thoughtfully. "But, of course--"

  "I don't think that he would take it," replied Carrados, in a voice ofequally detached speculation. "He suits me very well. But you have thechance of using his services--indirectly."

  "You still mean that--seriously?"

  "I notice in you a chronic disinclination to take me seriously, Louis.It is really--to an Englishman--almost painful. Is there somethinginherently comic about me or the atmosphere of The Turrets?"

  "No, my friend," replied Mr. Carlyle, "but there is somethingessentially prosperous. That is what points to the improbable. Nowwhat is it?"

  "It might be merely a whim, but it is more than that," replied Carrados."It is, well, partly vanity, partly _ennui_, partly"--certainly therewas something more nearly tragic in his voice than comic now--"partlyhope."

  Mr. Carlyle wa
s too tactful to pursue the subject.

  "Those are three tolerable motives," he acquiesced. "I'll do anythingyou want, Max, on one condition."

  "Agreed. And it is?"

  "That you tell me how you knew so much of this affair." He tapped thesilver coin which lay on the table near them. "I am not easilyflabbergasted," he added.

  "You won't believe that there is nothing to explain--that it waspurely second-sight?"

  "No," replied Carlyle tersely: "I won't."

  "You are quite right. And yet the thing is very simple."

  "They always are--when you know," soliloquised the other. "That's whatmakes them so confoundedly difficult when you don't."

  "Here is this one then. In Padua, which seems to be regaining its oldreputation as the birthplace of spurious antiques, by the way, therelives an ingenious craftsman named Pietro Stelli. This simple soul,who possesses a talent not inferior to that of Cavino at his best, hasfor many years turned his hand to the not unprofitable occupation offorging rare Greek and Roman coins. As a collector and student ofcertain Greek colonials and a specialist in forgeries I have beenfamiliar with Stelli's workmanship for years. Latterly he seems tohave come under the influence of an international crook called--at themoment--Dompierre, who soon saw a way of utilizing Stelli's genius ona royal scale. Helene Brunesi, who in private life is--and really is,I believe--Madame Dompierre, readily lent her services to theenterprise."

  "Quite so," nodded Mr. Carlyle, as his host paused.

  "You see the whole sequence, of course?"

  "Not exactly--not in detail," confessed Mr. Carlyle.

  "Dompierre's idea was to gain access to some of the most celebratedcabinets of Europe and substitute Stelli's fabrications for thegenuine coins. The princely collection of rarities that he would thusamass might be difficult to dispose of safely, but I have no doubtthat he had matured his plans. Helene, in the person of Nina Brun, anAnglicised French parlourmaid--a part which she fills toperfection--was to obtain wax impressions of the most valuable piecesand to make the exchange when the counterfeits reached her. In thisway it was obviously hoped that the fraud would not come to lightuntil long after the real coins had been sold, and I gather that shehas already done her work successfully in general houses. Then,impressed by her excellent references and capable manner, myhousekeeper engaged her, and for a few weeks she went about her dutieshere. It was fatal to this detail of the scheme, however, that I havethe misfortune to be blind. I am told that Helene has so innocentlyangelic a face as to disarm suspicion, but I was incapable of beingimpressed and that good material was thrown away. But one morning mymaterial fingers--which, of course, knew nothing of Helene's angelicface--discovered an unfamiliar touch about the surface of my favouriteEuclideas, and, although there was doubtless nothing to be seen, mycritical sense of smell reported that wax had been recently pressedagainst it. I began to make discreet inquiries and in the meantime mycabinets went to the local bank for safety. Helene countered byreceiving a telegram from Angiers, calling her to the death-bed of heraged mother. The aged mother succumbed; duty compelled Helene toremain at the side of her stricken patriarchal father, and doubtlessThe Turrets was written off the syndicate's operations as a bad debt."

  "Very interesting," admitted Mr. Carlyle; "but at the risk of seemingobtuse"--his manner had become delicately chastened--"I must say thatI fail to trace the inevitable connexion between Nina Brun and thisparticular forgery--assuming that it is a forgery."

  "Set your mind at rest about that, Louis," replied Carrados. "It is aforgery, and it is a forgery that none but Pietro Stelli could haveachieved. That is the essential connexion. Of course, there areaccessories. A private detective coming urgently to see me with anotable tetradrachm in his pocket, which he announces to be the clueto a remarkable fraud--well, really, Louis, one scarcely needs to beblind to see through that."

  "And Lord Seastoke? I suppose you happened to discover that Nina Brunhad gone there?"

  "No, I cannot claim to have discovered that, or I should certainlyhave warned him at once when I found out--only recently--about thegang. As a matter of fact, the last information I had of Lord Seastokewas a line in yesterday's _Morning Post_ to the effect that he wasstill at Cairo. But many of these pieces--" He brushed his fingeralmost lovingly across the vivid chariot race that embellished thereverse of the coin, and broke off to remark: "You really ought totake up the subject, Louis. You have no idea how useful it might proveto you some day."

  "I really think I must," replied Carlyle grimly. "Two hundred andfifty pounds the original of this cost, I believe."

  "Cheap, too; it would make five hundred pounds in New York to-day. AsI was saying, many are literally unique. This gem by Kimon is--here ishis signature, you see; Peter is particularly good at lettering--andas I handled the genuine tetradrachm about two years ago, when LordSeastoke exhibited it at a meeting of our society in Albemarle Street,there is nothing at all wonderful in my being able to fix the localeof your mystery. Indeed, I feel that I ought to apologize for it allbeing so simple."

  "I think," remarked Mr. Carlyle, critically examining the loosethreads on his left boot, "that the apology on that head would be moreappropriate from me."