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 ofa Mr. ---- 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 actorin the 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 onlyto help 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 otherwisemight have done. He may have got possession of the principal even andfind it very 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. Excusemy brutality, Mr. Hollyer, but this is simply a case to me and Iregard it strategically. Now Mr. Carlyle's organization can look afterMrs. Creake for a few weeks, but it cannot look after her for ever. Byincreasing the immediate 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 opportunityto get 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." Theblind man walked to the window and seemed to look out over thecypress-shaded lawn. The lieutenant lit a cigarette and Mr. Carlylepicked 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--toBrookbend Cottage. Tell your sister that your leave is unexpectedlycut short and that 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 reallywant the five hundred pounds by the time of your return. Don't stay inthe house long, please."
"I understand, sir."
"St. Albans is too far. Make your excuse and get away from thereto-day. Put up somewhere in town, where you will be in reach of thetelephone. Let Mr. Carlyle and myself know where you are. Keep out ofCreake's way. I don't want actually to tie you down to the house, butwe may require your services. We will let you know at the first signof anything doing and if there is nothing to be done we must releaseyou."
"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 thingpossible; you have put your sister into the care of the shrewdest manin London." Whereat the object of this quite unexpected eulogy foundhimself becoming 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 anyother man--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 at any time--I went down to Mulling Commonmyself. Although the house is lonely it is on the electric tram route.You know the sort of market garden rurality that about a dozen milesout of London offers--alternate bricks and cabbages. It was easyenough to get to know about Creake locally. He mixes with no onethere, goes into town at irregular times but generally every day, andis reputed to be devilish hard to get money out of. Finally I made theacquaintance of an old fellow who used to do a day's gardening atBrookbend occasionally. He has a cottage and a garden of his own witha greenhouse, and the business cost me the price of a pound oftomatoes."
"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 ashe was 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 found 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 asane man 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 motorrun round Mulling Common. If we have time we might go on to Brighton,feed at 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.It had been Carrados's intention merely to pass Brookbend Cottage onthis occasion, relying on his highly developed faculties, aided by Mr.Carlyle'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 leisurelydrawing past 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 andthe car stopped by the roadside, a score of paces past the limit ofthe garden. Mr. Carlyle took out his notebook and wrote down theaddress of a firm 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 Mr.Carlyle.
"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. Abovethe hedge showed an occasional shrub; at the corner nearest to the cara chestnut flourished. The wooden gate, once white, which they hadpassed, was grimed and rickety. The road itself was still theunpretentious country lane that the advent of the electric car hadfound it. When Carrados had taken in these details there seemed littleelse to notice. He was on the point of giving