Four Max Carrados Detective Stories

by Ernest Bramah

prevent our going, however. Mr.Greatorex must write to-morrow, enclosing a cheque, with my regrets,and adding a penny for this ruler which I seem to have brought awaywith me. It, at least, is something for the money."

  Parkinson may be excused for not attempting to understand the courseof events.

  "Here is your train coming in, sir," he merely said.

  "We will let it go and wait for another. Is there a signal at eitherend of the platform?"

  "Yes, sir; at the further end."

  "Let us walk towards it. Are there any of the porters or officialsabout here?"

  "No, sir; none."

  "Take this ruler. I want you to go up the steps--there are steps upthe signal, by the way?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "I want you to measure the glass of the lamp. Do not go up any higherthan is necessary, but if you have to stretch be careful not to markoff the measurement with your nail, although the impulse is a naturalone. That has been done already."

  Parkinson looked apprehensively round and about. Fortunately the partwas a dark and unfrequented spot and everyone else was moving towardsthe exit at the other end of the platform. Fortunately, also, thesignal was not a high one.

  "As near as I can judge on the rounded surface, the glass is four andseven-eighths across," reported Parkinson.

  "Thank you," replied Carrados, returning the measure to his pocket,"four and seven-eighths is quite near enough. Now we will take thenext train back."

  Sunday evening came, and with it Mr. Carlyle to The Turrets at theappointed hour. He brought to the situation a mind poised for anyeventuality and a trenchant eye. As the time went on and theimpenetrable Carrados made no allusion to the case, Carlyle's mannerinclined to a waggish commiseration of his host's position. Actually,he said little, but the crisp precision of his voice when the path layopen to a remark of any significance left little to be said.

  It was not until they had finished dinner and returned to the librarythat Carrados gave the slightest hint of anything unusual being in theair. His first indication of coming events was to remove the key fromthe outside to the inside of the door.

  "What are you doing, Max?" demanded Mr. Carlyle, his curiosityovercoming the indirect attitude.

  "You have been very entertaining, Louis," replied his friend, "butParkinson should be back very soon now and it is as well to beprepared. Do you happen to carry a revolver?"

  "Not when I come to dine with you, Max," replied Carlyle, with all theaplomb he could muster. "Is it usual?"

  Carrados smiled affectionately at his guest's agile recovery andtouched the secret spring of a drawer in an antique bureau by hisside. The little hidden receptacle shot smoothly out, disclosing apair of dull-blued pistols.

  "To-night, at all events, it might be prudent," he replied, handingone to Carlyle and putting the other into his own pocket. "Our man maybe here at any minute, and we do not know in what temper he willcome."

  "Our man!" exclaimed Carlyle, craning forward in excitement. "Max! youdon't mean to say that you have got Mead to admit it?"

  "No one has admitted it," said Carrados. "And it is not Mead."

  "Not Mead.... Do you mean that Hutchins--?"

  "Neither Mead nor Hutchins. The man who tampered with the signal--forHutchins was right and a green light _was_ exhibited--is a youngIndian from Bengal. His name is Drishna and he lives at Swanstead."

  Mr. Carlyle stared at his friend between sheer surprise and blankincredulity.

  "You really mean this, Carrados?" he said.

  "My fatal reputation for humour!" smiled Carrados. "If I am wrong,Louis, the next hour will expose it."

  "But why--why--why? The colossal villainy, the unparalleled audacity!"Mr. Carlyle lost himself among incredulous superlatives and could onlystare.

  "Chiefly to get himself out of a disastrous speculation," repliedCarrados, answering the question. "If there was another motive--or atleast an incentive--which I suspect, doubtless we shall hear of it."

  "All the same, Max, I don't think that you have treated me quitefairly," protested Carlyle, getting over his first surprise andpassing to a sense of injury. "Here we are and I know nothing,absolutely nothing, of the whole affair."

  "We both have our ideas of pleasantry, Louis," replied Carradosgenially. "But I dare say you are right and perhaps there is stilltime to atone." In the fewest possible words he outlined the course ofhis investigations. "And now you know all that is to be known untilDrishna arrives."

  "But will he come?" questioned Carlyle doubtfully. "He may besuspicious."

  "Yes, he will be suspicious."

  "Then he will not come."

  "On the contrary, Louis, he will come because my letter will make himsuspicious. He _is_ coming; otherwise Parkinson would have telephonedme at once and we should have had to take other measures."

  "What did you say, Max?" asked Carlyle curiously.

  "I wrote that I was anxious to discuss an Indo-Scythian inscriptionwith him, and sent my car in the hope that he would be able to obligeme."

  "But is he interested in Indo-Scythian inscriptions?"

  "I haven't the faintest idea," admitted Carrados, and Mr. Carlyle wasthrowing up his hands in despair when the sound of a motor-car wheelssoftly kissing the gravel surface of the drive outside brought him tohis feet.

  "By Gad, you are right, Max!" he exclaimed, peeping through thecurtains. "There is a man inside."

  "Mr. Drishna," announced Parkinson a minute later.

  The visitor came into the room with leisurely self-possession thatmight have been real or a desperate assumption. He was a slightlybuilt young man of about twenty-five, with black hair and eyes, asmall, carefully trained moustache, and a dark olive skin. Hisphysiognomy was not displeasing, but his expression had a harsh andsupercilious tinge. In attire he erred towards the immaculatelyspruce.

  "Mr. Carrados?" he said inquiringly.

  Carrados, who had risen, bowed slightly without offering his hand.

  "This gentleman," he said, indicating his friend, "is Mr. Carlyle, thecelebrated private detective."

  The Indian shot a very sharp glance at the object of this description.Then he sat down.

  "You wrote me a letter, Mr. Carrados," he remarked, in English thatscarcely betrayed any foreign origin, "a rather curious letter, I maysay. You asked me about an ancient inscription. I know nothing ofantiquities; but I thought, as you had sent, that it would be morecourteous if I came and explained this to you."

  "That was the object of my letter," replied Carrados.

  "You wished to see me?" said Drishna, unable to stand the ordeal ofthe silence that Carrados imposed after his remark.

  "When you left Miss Chubb's house you left a ruler behind." One lay onthe desk by Carrados and he took it up as he spoke.

  "I don't understand what you are talking about," said Drishnaguardedly. "You are making some mistake."

  "The ruler was marked at four and seven-eighths inches--the measure ofthe glass of the signal lamp outside."

  The unfortunate young man was unable to repress a start. His face lostits healthy tone. Then, with a sudden impulse, he made a step forwardand snatched the object from Carrados's hand.

  "If it is mine I have a right to it," he exclaimed, snapping the rulerin two and throwing it on to the back of the blazing fire. "It isnothing."

  "Pardon me, I did not say that the one you have so impetuouslydisposed of was yours. As a matter of fact, it was mine. Yoursis--elsewhere."

  "Wherever it is you have no right to it if it is mine," pantedDrishna, with rising excitement. "You are a thief, Mr. Carrados. Iwill not stay any longer here."

  He jumped up and turned towards the door. Carlyle made a step forward,but the precaution was unnecessary.

  "One moment, Mr. Drishna," interposed Carrados, in his smoothesttones. "It is a pity, after you have come so far, to leave withouthearing of my investigations in the neighbourhood of ShaftesburyAvenue."

  Drishna sat down again.

  "As you like," he mutter
ed. "It does not interest me."

  "I wanted to obtain a lamp of a certain pattern," continued Carrados."It seemed to me that the simplest explanation would be to say that Iwanted it for a motor-car. Naturally I went to Long Acre. At the firstshop I said: 'Wasn't it here that a friend of mine, an Indiangentleman, recently had a lamp made with a green glass that was nearlyfive inches across?' No, it was not there but they could make me one.At the next shop the same; at the third, and fourth, and so on.Finally my persistence was rewarded. I found the place where the lamphad been made, and