Partners in Crime (9 page)

They found the place at last, a big rambling house, surrounded by deserted grounds, with a swift mill stream running behind the house.

‘Dismal sort of abode,’ said Tommy. ‘It gives me the creeps, Tuppence. You know, I’ve a feeling this is going to turn out a far more serious matter than we thought at first.’

‘Oh, don’t. If only we are in time. That woman’s in some awful danger; I feel it in my bones.’

‘Don’t let your imagination run away with you.’

‘I can’t help it. I mistrust that man. What shall we do? I think it would be a good plan if I went and rang the bell alone first and asked boldly for Mrs Leigh Gordon just to see what answer I get. Because, after all, it may be perfectly fair and above board.’

Tuppence carried out her plan. The door was opened almost immediately by a manservant with an impassive face.

‘I want to see Mrs Leigh Gordon, if she is well enough to see me.’

She fancied that there was a momentary flicker of the man’s eyelashes, but he answered readily enough.

‘There is no one of that name here, madam.’

‘Oh, surely. This is Doctor Horriston’s place, The Grange, is it not?’

‘Yes, madam, but there is nobody of the name of Mrs Leigh Gordon here.’

Baffled, Tuppence was forced to withdraw and hold a further consultation with Tommy outside the gate.

‘Perhaps he was speaking the truth. After all, we don’t
know
.’

‘He wasn’t. He was lying. I’m sure of it.’

‘Wait until the doctor comes back,’ said Tommy. ‘Then I’ll pass myself off as a journalist anxious to discuss his new system of rest cure with him. That will give me a chance of getting inside and studying the geography of the place.’

The doctor returned about half an hour later. Tommy gave him about five minutes, then he in turn marched up to the front door. But he too returned baffled.

‘The doctor was engaged and couldn’t be disturbed. And he never sees journalists. Tuppence, you’re right. There’s something fishy about this place. It’s ideally situated–miles from anywhere. Any mortal thing could go on here, and no one would ever know.’

‘Come on,’ said Tuppence, with determination.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m going to climb over the wall and see if I can’t get up to the house quietly without being seen.’

‘Right. I’m with you.’

The garden was somewhat overgrown and afforded a multitude of cover. Tommy and Tuppence managed to reach the back of the house unobserved.

Here there was a wide terrace with some crumbling steps leading down from it. In the middle some french windows opened on to the terrace, but they dared not step out into the open, and the windows where they were crouching were too high for them to be able to look in. It did not seem as though their reconnaissance would be much use, when suddenly Tuppence tightened her grasp of Tommy’s arm.

Someone was speaking in the room close to them. The window was open and the fragment of conversation came clearly to their ears.

‘Come in, come in, and shut the door,’ said a man’s voice irritably. ‘A lady came about an hour ago, you said, and asked for Mrs Leigh Gordon?’

Tuppence recognised the answering voice as that of the impassive manservant.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You said she wasn’t here, of course?’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘And now this journalist fellow,’ fumed the other.

He came suddenly to the window, throwing up the sash, and the two outside, peering through a screen of bushes, recognised Dr Horriston.

‘It’s the woman I mind most about,’ continued the doctor. ‘What did she look like?’

‘Young, good-looking, and very smartly dressed, sir.’

Tommy nudged Tuppence in the ribs.

‘Exactly,’ said the doctor between his teeth, ‘as I feared. Some friend of the Leigh Gordon woman’s. It’s getting very difficult. I shall have to take steps –’

He left the sentence unfinished. Tommy and Tuppence heard the door close. There was silence.

Gingerly Tommy led the retreat. When they had reached a little clearing not far away, but out of earshot from the house, he spoke.

‘Tuppence, old thing, this is getting serious. They mean mischief. I think we ought to get back to town at once and see Stavansson.’

To his surprise Tuppence shook her head.

‘We must stay down here. Didn’t you hear him say he was going to take steps–That might mean anything.’

‘The worst of it is we’ve hardly got a case to go to the police on.’

‘Listen, Tommy. Why not ring up Stavansson from the village? I’ll stay around here.’

‘Perhaps that is the best plan,’ agreed her husband. ‘But I say–Tuppence –’

‘Well?’

‘Take care of yourself–won’t you?’

‘Of course I shall, you silly old thing. Cut along.’

It was some two hours later that Tommy returned. He found Tuppence awaiting him near the gate.

‘Well?’

‘I couldn’t get on to Stavansson. Then I tried Lady Susan. She was out too. Then I thought of ringing up old Brady. I asked him to look up Horriston in the Medical Directory or whatever the thing calls itself.’

‘Well, what did Dr Brady say?’

‘Oh, he knew the name at once. Horriston was once a
bona fide
doctor, but he came a cropper of some kind. Brady called him a most unscrupulous quack, and said he, personally, wouldn’t be surprised at anything. The question is, what are we to do now?’

‘We must stay here,’ said Tuppence instantly. ‘I’ve a feeling they mean something to happen tonight. By the way, a gardener has been clipping ivy round the house. Tommy,
I saw where he put the ladder
.’

‘Good for you, Tuppence,’ said her husband appreciatively. ‘Then tonight –’

‘As soon as it’s dark –’

‘We shall see –’

‘What we shall see.’

Tommy took his turn at watching the house whilst Tuppence went to the village and had some food.

Then she returned and they took up the vigil together. At nine o’clock they decided that it was dark enough to commence operations. They were now able to circle round the house in perfect freedom. Suddenly Tuppence clutched Tommy by the arm.

‘Listen.’

The sound she had heard came again, borne faintly on the night air. It was the moan of a woman in pain. Tuppence pointed upward to a window on the first floor.

‘It came from that room,’ she whispered.

Again that low moan rent the stillness of the night.

The two listeners decided to put their original plan into action. Tuppence led the way to where she had seen the gardener put the ladder. Between them they carried it to the side of the house from which they had heard the moaning. All the blinds of the ground floor rooms were drawn, but this particular window upstairs was unshuttered.

Tommy put the ladder as noiselessly as possible against the side of the house.

‘I’ll go up,’ whispered Tuppence. ‘You stay below. I don’t mind climbing ladders and you can steady it better than I could. And in case the doctor should come round the corner you’d be able to deal with him and I shouldn’t.’

Nimbly Tuppence swarmed up the ladder and raised her head cautiously to look in at the window. Then she ducked it swiftly, but after a minute or two brought it very slowly up again. She stayed there for about five minutes. Then she descended again.

‘It’s her,’ she said breathlessly and ungrammatically. ‘But, oh, Tommy, it’s horrible. She’s lying there in bed, moaning, and turning to and fro–and just as I got there a woman dressed as a nurse came in. She bent over her and injected something in her arm and then went away again. What shall we do?’

‘Is she conscious?’

‘I think so. I’m almost sure she is. I fancy she may be strapped to the bed. I’m going up again, and if I can I’m going to get into that room.’

‘I say, Tuppence –’

‘If I’m in any sort of danger, I’ll yell for you. So long.’

Avoiding further argument Tuppence hurried up the ladder again. Tommy saw her try the window, then noiselessly push up the sash. Another second and she had disappeared inside.

And now an agonising time came for Tommy. He could hear nothing at first. Tuppence and Mrs Leigh Gordon must be talking in whispers if they were talking at all. Presently he did hear a low murmur of voices and drew a breath of relief. But suddenly the voices stopped. Dead silence.

Tommy strained his ears. Nothing. What could they be doing?

Suddenly a hand fell on his shoulder.

‘Come on,’ said Tuppence’s voice out of the darkness.

‘Tuppence! How did you get here?’

‘Through the front door. Let’s get out of this.’

‘Get out of this?’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘But–Mrs Leigh Gordon?’

In a tone of indescribable bitterness Tuppence replied:

‘Getting thin!’

Tommy looked at her, suspecting irony.

‘What do you mean?’

‘What I say. Getting thin. Slinkiness. Reduction of weight. Didn’t you hear Stavansson say he hated fat women? In the two years he’s been away, his Hermy has put on weight. Got a panic when she knew he was coming back and rushed off to do this new treatment of Dr Horriston’s. It’s injections of some sort, and he makes a deadly secret of it, and charges through the nose. I dare say he
is
a quack–but he’s a damned successful one! Stavansson comes home a fortnight too soon, when she’s only beginning the treatment. Lady Susan has been sworn to secrecy and plays up. And we come down here and make blithering idiots of ourselves!’

Tommy drew a deep breath.

‘I believe, Watson,’ he said with dignity, ‘that there is a very good concert at the Queen’s Hall tomorrow. We shall be in plenty of time for it. And you will oblige me by not placing this case upon your records. It has absolutely
no
distinctive features.’

‘Right,’ said Tommy, and replaced the receiver on its hook.

Then he turned to Tuppence.

‘That was the Chief. Seems to have got the wind up about us. It appears that the parties we’re after have got wise to the fact that I’m not the genuine Mr Theodore Blunt. We’re to expect excitements at any minute. The Chief begs you as a favour to go home and stay at home, and not mix yourself up in it any more. Apparently the hornet’s nest we’ve stirred up is bigger than anyone imagined.’

‘All that about my going home is nonsense,’ said Tuppence decidedly. ‘Who is going to look after you if I go home? Besides, I like excitement. Business hasn’t been very brisk just lately.’

‘Well, one can’t have murders and robberies every day,’ said Tommy. ‘Be reasonable. Now, my idea is this. When business is slack, we ought to do a certain amount of home exercises every day.’

‘Lie on our backs and wave our feet in the air? That sort of thing?’

‘Don’t be so literal in your interpretation. When I say exercises, I mean exercises in the detective art. Reproductions of the great masters. For instance –’

From the drawer beside him Tommy took out a formidable dark green eyeshade, covering both eyes. This he adjusted with some care. Then he drew a watch from his pocket.

‘I broke the glass this morning,’ he remarked. ‘That paved the way for its being the crystalless watch which my sensitive fingers touch so lightly.’

‘Be careful,’ said Tuppence. ‘You nearly had the short hand off then.’

‘Give me your hand,’ said Tommy. He held it, one finger feeling for the pulse. ‘Ah! the keyboard of silence. This woman has
not
got heart disease.’

‘I suppose,’ said Tuppence, ‘that you are Thornley Colton?’

‘Just so,’ said Tommy. ‘The blind Problemist. And you’re thingummybob, the black haired, apple-cheeked secretary –’

‘The bundle of baby clothes picked up on the banks of the river,’ finished Tuppence.

‘And Albert is the Fee, alias Shrimp.’

‘We must teach him to say, “Gee,”’ said Tuppence. ‘And his voice isn’t shrill. It’s dreadfully hoarse.’

‘Against the wall by the door,’ said Tommy, ‘you perceive the slim hollow cane which held in my sensitive hand tells me so much.’

He rose and cannoned into a chair.

‘Damn!’ said Tommy. ‘I forgot that chair was there.’

‘It must be beastly to be blind,’ said Tuppence with feeling.

‘Rather,’ agreed Tommy heartily. ‘I’m sorrier for all those poor devils who lost their eyesight in the war than for anyone else. But they say that when you live in the dark you really do develop special senses. That’s what I want to try and see if one couldn’t do. It would be jolly handy to train oneself to be some good in the dark. Now, Tuppence, be a good Sydney Thames. How many steps to that cane?’

Tuppence made a desperate guess.

‘Three straight, five left,’ she hazarded.

Tommy paced it uncertainly, Tuppence interrupting with a cry of warning as she realised that the fourth step left would take him slap against the wall.

‘There’s a lot in this,’ said Tuppence. ‘You’ve no idea how difficult it is to judge how many steps are needed.’

‘It’s jolly interesting,’ said Tommy. ‘Call Albert in. I’m going to shake hands with you both, and see if I know which is which.’

‘All right,’ said Tuppence, ‘but Albert must wash his hands first. They’re sure to be sticky from those beastly acid drops he’s always eating.’

Albert, introduced to the game, was full of interest.

Tommy, the handshakes completed, smiled complacently.

‘The keyboard of silence cannot lie,’ he murmured. ‘The first was Albert, the second, you, Tuppence.’

‘Wrong!’ shrieked Tuppence. ‘Keyboard of silence indeed! You went by my dress ring. And I put that on Albert’s finger.’

Various other experiments were carried out, with indifferent success.

‘But it’s coming,’ declared Tommy. ‘One can’t expect to be infallible straight away. I tell you what. It’s just lunch time. You and I will go to the Blitz, Tuppence. Blind man and his keeper. Some jolly useful tips to be picked up there.’

‘I say, Tommy, we shall get into trouble.’

‘No, we shan’t. I shall behave quite like the little gentleman. But I bet you that by the end of luncheon I shall be startling you.’

All protests being thus overborne, a quarter of an hour later saw Tommy and Tuppence comfortably ensconced at a corner table in the Gold Room of the Blitz.

Tommy ran his fingers lightly over the Menu.

‘Pilaff de homar and grilled chicken for me,’ he murmured.

Tuppence also made her selection, and the waiter moved away.

‘So far, so good,’ said Tommy. ‘Now for a more ambitious venture. What beautiful legs that girl in the short skirt has–the one who has just come in.’

‘How was that done, Thorn?’

‘Beautiful legs impart a particular vibration to the floor, which is received by my hollow cane. Or, to be honest, in a big restaurant there is nearly always a girl with beautiful legs standing in the doorway looking for her friends, and with short skirts going about, she’d be sure to take advantage of them.’

The meal proceeded.

‘The man two tables from us is a very wealthy profiteer, I fancy,’ said Tommy carelessly. ‘Jew, isn’t he?’

‘Pretty good,’ said Tuppence appreciatively. ‘I don’t follow that one.’

‘I shan’t tell you how it’s done every time. It spoils my show. The head waiter is serving champagne three tables off to the right. A stout woman in black is about to pass our table.’

‘Tommy, how can you –’

‘Aha! You’re beginning to see what I can do. That’s a nice girl in brown just getting up at the table behind you.’

‘Snoo!’ said Tuppence. ‘It’s a young man in grey.’

‘Oh!’ said Tommy, momentarily disconcerted.

And at that moment two men who had been sitting at a table not far away, and who had been watching the young pair with keen interest, got up and came across to the corner table.

‘Excuse me,’ said the elder of the two, a tall, well-dressed man with an eyeglass, and a small grey moustache. ‘But you have been pointed out to me as Mr Theodore Blunt. May I ask if that is so?’

Tommy hesitated a minute, feeling somewhat at a disadvantage. Then he bowed his head.

‘That is so. I am Mr Blunt!’

‘What an unexpected piece of good fortune! Mr Blunt, I was going to call at your offices after lunch. I am in trouble–very grave trouble. But–excuse me–you have had some accident to your eyes?’

‘My dear sir,’ said Tommy in a melancholy voice, ‘I’m blind–completely blind.’

‘What?’

‘You are astonished. But surely you have heard of blind detectives?’

‘In fiction. Never in real life. And I have certainly never heard that you were blind.’

‘Many people are not aware of the fact,’ murmured Tommy. ‘I am wearing an eyeshade today to save my eyeballs from glare. But without it, quite a host of people have never suspected my infirmity–if you call it that. You see, my eyes cannot mislead me. But, enough of all this. Shall we go at once to my office, or will you give me the facts of the case here? The latter would be best, I think.’

A waiter brought up two extra chairs, and the two men sat down. The second man who had not yet spoken, was shorter, sturdy in build, and very dark.

‘It is a matter of great delicacy,’ said the older man dropping his voice confidentially. He looked uncertainly at Tuppence. Mr Blunt seemed to feel the glance.

‘Let me introduce my confidential secretary,’ he said. ‘Miss Ganges. Found on the banks of the Indian river–a mere bundle of baby clothes. Very sad history. Miss Ganges is my eyes. She accompanies me everywhere.’

The stranger acknowledged the introduction with a bow.

‘Then I can speak out. Mr Blunt, my daughter, a girl of sixteen, has been abducted under somewhat peculiar circumstances. I discovered this half an hour ago. The circumstances of the case were such that I dared not call in the police. Instead, I rang up your office. They told me you were out to lunch, but would be back by half-past two. I came in here with my friend, Captain Harker –’

The short man jerked his head and muttered something.

‘By the greatest good fortune you happened to be lunching here also. We must lose no time. You must return with me to my house immediately.’

Tommy demurred cautiously.

‘I can be with you in half an hour. I must return to my office first.’

Captain Harker, turning to glance at Tuppence, may have been surprised to see a half smile lurking for a moment at the corners of her mouth.

‘No, no, that will not do. You must return with me.’ The grey-haired man took a card from his pocket and handed it across the table. ‘That is my name.’

Tommy fingered it.

‘My fingers are hardly sensitive enough for that,’ he said with a smile, and handed it to Tuppence, who read out in a low voice: ‘The Duke of Blairgowrie.’

She looked with great interest at their client. The Duke of Blairgowrie was well known to be a most haughty and inaccessible nobleman who had married as a wife, the daughter of a Chicago pork butcher, many years younger than himself, and of a lively temperament that augured ill for their future together. There had been rumours of disaccord lately.

‘You will come at once, Mr Blunt?’ said the Duke, with a tinge of acerbity in his manner.

Tommy yielded to the inevitable.

‘Miss Ganges and I will come with you,’ he said quietly. ‘You will excuse my just stopping to drink a large cup of black coffee? They will serve it immediately. I am subject to very distressing headaches, the result of my eye trouble, and the coffee steadies my nerves.’

He called a waiter and gave the order. Then he spoke to Tuppence.

‘Miss Ganges–I am lunching here tomorrow with the French Prefect of Police. Just note down the luncheon, and give it to the head waiter with instructions to reserve me my usual table. I am assisting the French police in an important case.
The fee
’–he paused–‘is considerable. Are you ready, Miss Ganges.’

‘Quite ready,’ said Tuppence, her stylo poised.

‘We will start with that special salad of shrimps that they have here. Then to follow–let me see,
to follow
–Yes, Omelette Blitz, and perhaps a couple of
Tournedos a` l’Etranger
.’

He paused and murmured apologetically:

‘You will forgive me, I hope. Ah! yes,
Souffle en surprise
. That will conclude the repast. A most interesting man, the French Prefect. You know him, perhaps?’

The other replied in the negative, as Tuppence rose and went to speak to the head waiter. Presently she returned, just as the coffee was brought.

Tommy drank a large cup of it, sipping it slowly, then rose.

‘My cane, Miss Ganges? Thank you. Directions, please?’

It was a moment of agony for Tuppence.

‘One right, eighteen straight. About the fifth step, there is a waiter serving the table on your left.’

Swinging his cane jauntily, Tommy set out. Tuppence kept close beside him, and endeavoured unobtrusively to steer him. All went well until they were just passing out through the doorway. A man entered rather hurriedly, and before Tuppence could warn the blind Mr Blunt, he had barged right into the newcomer. Explanations and apologies ensued.

At the door of the Blitz, a smart landaulette was waiting. The Duke himself aided Mr Blunt to get in.

‘Your car here, Harker?’ he asked over his shoulder.

‘Yes. Just round the corner.’

‘Take Miss Ganges in it, will you.’

Before another word could be said, he had jumped in beside Tommy, and the car rolled smoothly away.

‘A very delicate matter,’ murmured the Duke. ‘I can soon acquaint you with all the details.’

Tommy raised his hand to his head.

‘I can remove my eyeshade now,’ he observed pleasantly. ‘It was only the glare of artificial light in the restaurant necessitated its use.’

But his arm was jerked down sharply. At the same time he felt something hard and round being poked between his ribs.

‘No, my dear Mr Blunt,’ said the Duke’s voice–but a voice that seemed suddenly different. ‘You will not remove that eyeshade. You will sit perfectly still and not move in any way. You understand? I don’t want this pistol of mine to go off. You see, I happen not to be the Duke of Blairgowrie at all. I borrowed his name for the occasion, knowing that you would not refuse to accompany such a celebrated client. I am something much more prosaic–a ham merchant who has lost his wife.’

He felt the start the other gave.

‘That tells you something,’ he laughed. ‘My dear young man, you have been incredibly foolish. I’m afraid–I’m very much afraid that your activities will be curtailed in future.’

He spoke the last words with a sinister relish.

Tommy sat motionless. He did not reply to the other’s taunts.

Presently the car slackened its pace and drew up.

‘Just a minute,’ said the pseudo Duke. He twisted a handkerchief deftly into Tommy’s mouth, and drew up his scarf over it.

‘In case you should be foolish enough to think of calling for help,’ he explained suavely.

The door of the car opened and the chauffeur stood ready. He and his master took Tommy between them and propelled him rapidly up some steps and in at the door of a house.

The door closed behind them. There was a rich oriental smell in the air. Tommy’s feet sank deep into velvet pile. He was propelled in the same fashion up a flight of stairs and into a room which he judged to be at the back of the house. Here the two men bound his hands together. The chauffeur went out again, and the other removed the gag.

‘You may speak freely now,’ he announced pleasantly. ‘What have you to say for yourself, young man?’

Tommy cleared his throat and eased the aching corners of his mouth.

‘I hope you haven’t lost my hollow cane,’ he said mildly. ‘It cost me a lot to have that made.’

‘You have nerve,’ said the other, after a minute’s pause. ‘Or else you are just a fool. Don’t you understand that I have got you–got you in the hollow of my hand? That you’re absolutely in my power? That no one who knows you is ever likely to see you again.’