tragically, with a sob, "with this beside her.Dead just 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 thewoman, strange to say."
THE LAST EXPLOIT OF HARRY THE ACTOR
The one insignificant fact upon which turned the following incident inthe joint experiences of Mr. Carlyle and Max Carrados was merely this:that having called upon his friend just at the moment when the privatedetective was on the point of leaving his office to go to the safedeposit in Lucas Street, Piccadilly, the blind amateur accompaniedhim, and for ten minutes amused himself by sitting quite quietly amongthe palms in the centre of the circular hall while Mr. Carlyle wasoccupied with his deed-box in one of the little compartments providedfor the purpose.
The Lucas Street depository was then (it has since been converted intoa picture palace) generally accepted as being one of the strongestplaces in London. The front of the building was constructed torepresent a gigantic safe door, and under the colloquial designationof "The Safe" the place had passed into a synonym for all that wassecure and impregnable. Half of the marketable securities in the westof London were popularly reported to have seen the inside of itscoffers at one time or another, together with the same generousproportion of family jewels. However exaggerated an estimate thismight be, the substratum of truth was solid and auriferous enough todazzle the imagination. When ordinary safes were being carried bodilyaway with impunity or ingeniously fused open by the scientificallyequipped cracksman, nervous bond-holders turned with relief to theattractions of an establishment whose modest claim was summed up inits telegraphic address: "Impregnable." To it went also the jewel-casebetween the lady's social engagements, and when in due course "thefamily" journeyed north--or south, east or west--whenever, in short,the London house was closed, its capacious storerooms received theplate-chest as an established custom. Not a few tradersalso--jewellers, financiers, dealers in pictures, antiques and costlybijouterie, for instance--constantly used its facilities for any stockthat they did not require immediately to hand.
There was only one entrance to the place, an exaggerated keyhole, tocarry out the similitude of the safe-door alluded to. The ground floorwas occupied by the ordinary offices of the company; all thestrong-rooms and safes lay in the steel-cased basement. This wasreached both by a lift and by a flight of steps. In either case thevisitor found before him a grille of massive proportions. Behind itsbars stood a formidable commissionaire who never left his post, hissole duty being to open and close the grille to arriving and departingclients. Beyond this, a short passage led into the round central hallwhere Carrados was waiting. From this part, other passages radiatedoff to the vaults and strong-rooms, each one barred from the hall by agrille scarcely less ponderous than the first one. The doors of thevarious private rooms put at the disposal of the company's clients,and that of the manager's office, filled the wall-space between theradiating passages. Everything was very quiet, everything looked verybright, and everything seemed hopelessly impregnable.
"But I wonder?" ran Carrados's dubious reflection as he reached thispoint.
"Sorry to have kept you so long, my dear Max," broke in Mr. Carlyle'scrisp voice. He had emerged from his compartment and was crossing thehall, deed-box in hand. "Another minute and I will be with you."
Carrados smiled and nodded and resumed his former expression, whichwas merely that of an uninterested gentleman waiting patiently foranother. It is something of an attainment to watch closely withoutbetraying undue curiosity, but others of the senses--hearing andsmelling, for instance--can be keenly engaged while the observerpossibly has the appearance of falling asleep.
"Now," announced Mr. Carlyle, returning briskly to his friend's chair,and drawing on his grey suede gloves.
"You are in no particular hurry?"
"No," admitted the professional man, with the slowness of mildsurprise. "Not at all. What do you propose?"
"It is very pleasant here," replied Carrados tranquilly. "Very cooland restful with this armoured steel between us and the dust andscurry of the hot July afternoon above. I propose remaining here for afew minutes longer."
"Certainly," agreed Mr. Carlyle, taking the nearest chair and eyeingCarrados as though he had a shrewd suspicion of something more thanmet the ear. "I believe some very interesting people rent safes here.We may encounter a bishop, or a winning jockey, or even a musicalcomedy actress. Unfortunately it seems to be rather a slack time."
"Two men came down while you were in your cubicle," remarked Carradoscasually. "The first took the lift. I imagine that he was amiddle-aged, rather portly man. He carried a stick, wore a silk hat,and used spectacles for close sight. The other came by the stairway. Iinfer that he arrived at the top immediately after the lift had gone.He ran down the steps, so that the two were admitted at the same time,but the second man, though the more active of the pair, hung back fora moment in the passage and the portly one was the first to go to hissafe."
Mr. Carlyle's knowing look expressed: "Go on, my friend; you arecoming to something." But he merely contributed an encouraging "Yes?"
"When you emerged just now our second man quietly opened the door ofhis pen a fraction. Doubtless he looked out. Then he closed it asquietly again. You were not his man, Louis."
"I am grateful," said Mr. Carlyle expressively. "What next, Max?"
"That is all; they are still closeted."
Both were silent for a moment. Mr. Carlyle's feeling was one ofunconfessed perplexity. So far the incident was utterly trivial in hiseyes; but he knew that the trifles which appeared significant to Maxhad a way of standing out like signposts when the time came to lookback over an episode. Carrados's sightless faculties seemed indeed tokeep him just a move ahead as the game progressed.
"Is there really anything in it, Max?" he asked at length.
"Who can say?" replied Carrados. "At least we may wait to see them go.Those tin deed-boxes now. There is one to each safe, I think?"
"Yes, so I imagine. The practice is to carry the box to your privatelair and there unlock it and do your business. Then you lock it upagain and take it back to your safe."
"Steady! our first man," whispered Carrados hurriedly. "Here, look atthis with me." He opened a paper--a prospectus--which he pulled fromhis pocket, and they affected to study its contents together.
"You were about right, my friend," muttered Mr. Carlyle, pointing to aparagraph of assumed interest. "Hat, stick and spectacles. He is aclean-shaven, pink-faced old boy. I believe--yes, I know the man bysight. He is a bookmaker in a large way, I am told."
"Here comes the other," whispered Carrados.
The bookmaker passed across the hall, joined on his way by the managerwhose duty it was to counterlock the safe, and disappeared along oneof the passages. The second man sauntered up and down, waiting histurn. Mr. Carlyle reported his movements in an undertone and describedhim. He was a younger man than the other, of medium height, andpassably well dressed in a quiet lounge suit, green Alpine hat andbrown shoes. By the time the detective had reached his wavy chestnuthair, large and rather ragged moustache, and sandy, freckledcomplexion, the first man had completed his business and was leavingthe place.
"It isn't an exchange lay, at all events," said Mr. Carlyle. "Hisinner case is only half the size of the other and couldn't possibly besubstituted."
"Come up now," said Carrados, rising. "There is nothing more to belearned down here."
They requisitioned the lift, and on the steps outside the gigantickeyhole stood for a few minutes discussing an investment as a coupleof trustees or a lawyer and a client who were parting there might do.Fifty yards away, a very large silk hat with a very curly brim markedthe progress of the bookmaker towards Piccadilly.
The lift in the hall behind them swirled up again and the gateclashed. The second man walked leisurely out and sauntered awaywithout a backward glance.
"He
has gone in the opposite direction," exclaimed Mr. Carlyle, ratherblankly. "It isn't the 'lame goat' nor the 'follow-me-on,' nor eventhe homely but efficacious sand-bag."
"What colour were his eyes?" asked Carrados.
"Upon my word, I never noticed," admitted the other.
"Parkinson would have noticed," was the severe comment.
"I am not Parkinson," retorted Mr. Carlyle, with asperity, "and,strictly as one dear friend to another, Max, permit me to add, thatwhile cherishing an unbounded admiration for your remarkable gifts, Ihave the strongest suspicion that the whole incident is a
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