---

Скачать книгу

---

that which lay between us. Then

      his hand flew to his breast; there was a silvern gleam and--

      "Drop that whistle!" snapped Smith, and struck it from the man's hand.

      "Where's your lantern? Don't ask questions!"

      The constable started back and was evidently debating upon his chances

      with the two of us, when my friend pulled a letter from his pocket and

      thrust it under the man's nose.

      "Read that!" he directed harshly, "and then listen to my orders."

      There was something in his voice which changed the officer's opinion

      of the situation. He directed the light of his lantern upon the open

      letter, and seemed to be stricken with wonder.

      "If you have any doubt," continued Smith--"you may not be familiar

      with the Commissioner's signature--you have only to ring up Scotland

      Yard from Dr. Petrie's house, to which we shall now return to disperse

      it." He pointed to Forsyth. "Help us to carry him there. We must not

      be seen; this must be hushed up. You understand? It must not get into

      the Press--"

      The man saluted respectfully, and the three of us addressed ourselves

      to the mournful task. By slow stages we bore the dead man to the edge

      of the common, carried him across the road and into my house, without

      exciting attention even on the part of those vagrants who nightly

      slept out in the neighbourhood.

      We laid our burden upon the surgery table.

      "You will want to make an examination, Petrie," said Smith in his

      decisive way, "and the officer here might 'phone for the ambulance. I

      have some investigations to make also. I must have the pocket lamp."

      He raced upstairs to his room, and an instant later came running down

      again. The front door banged.

      "The telephone is in the hall," I said to the constable.

      "Thank you, sir."

      He went out of the surgery as I switched on the lamp over the table

      and began to examine the marks upon Forsyth's skin. These, as I have

      said, were in groups and nearly all in the form of elongated

      punctures; a fairly deep incision with a pear-shaped and superficial

      scratch beneath it. One of the tiny wounds had penetrated the right

      eye.

      The symptoms, or those which I had been enabled to observe as Forsyth

      had first staggered into view from among the elms, were most puzzling.

      Clearly enough the muscles of articulation and the respiratory

      muscles had been affected; and now the livid face, dotted over with

      tiny wounds (they were also on the throat), set me mentally groping

      for a clue to the manner of his death.

      No clue presented itself; and my detailed examination of the body

      availed me nothing. The grey herald of dawn was come when the police

      arrived with the ambulance and took Forsyth away.

      I was just taking my cap from the rack when Nayland Smith returned.

      "Smith!" I cried, "have you found anything?"

      He stood there in the grey light of the hall-way tugging at the lobe

      of his left ear.

      The bronzed face looked very gaunt, I thought, and his eyes were

      bright with that febrile glitter which once I had disliked, but which

      I had learned from experience to be due to tremendous nervous

      excitement. At such times he could act with icy coolness, and his

      mental faculties seemed temporarily to acquire an abnormal keenness.

      He made no direct reply, but--

      "Have you any milk?" he jerked abruptly.

      So wholly unexpected was the question that for a moment I failed to

      grasp it. Then--

      "Milk!" I began.

      "Exactly, Petrie! If you can find me some milk, I shall be obliged."

      I turned to descend to the kitchen, when--

      "The remains of the turbot from dinner, Petrie, would also be welcome,

      and I think I should like a trowel."

      I stopped at the stairhead and faced him.

      "I cannot suppose that you are joking, Smith," I said, "but--"

      He laughed dryly.

      "Forgive me, old man," he replied. "I was so preoccupied with my own

      train of thought that it never occurred to me how absurd my request

      must have sounded. I will explain my singular tastes later; at the

      moment, hustle is the watchword."

      Evidently he was in earnest, and I ran downstairs accordingly,

      returning with a garden trowel, a plate of cold fish, and a glass of

      milk.

      "Thanks, Petrie," said Smith. "If you would put the milk in a jug--"

      I was past wondering, so I simply went and fetched a jug, into which

      he poured the milk. Then, with the trowel in his pocket, the plate of

      cold turbot in one hand and the milk-jug in the other, he made for the

      door. He had it open, when another idea evidently occurred to him.

      "I'll trouble you for the pistol, Petrie."

      I handed him the pistol without a word.

      "Don't assume that I want to mystify you," he added, "but the presence

      of any one else might jeopardize my plan. I don't expect to be long."

      The cold light of dawn flooded the hall-way momentarily; then the door

      closed again and I went upstairs to my study, watching Nayland Smith

      as he strode across the common in the early morning mist. He was

      making for the Nine Elms, but I lost sight of him before he reached

      them.

      I sat there for some time, watching for the first glow of sunrise. A

      policeman tramped past the house, and, a while later, a belated

      reveller in evening clothes. That sense of unreality assailed me

      again. Out there in the grey mist a man who was vested with powers

      which rendered him a law unto himself, who had the British Government

      behind him in all that he might choose to do, who had been summoned

      from Rangoon to London on singular and dangerous business, was

      employing himself with a plate of

---

Скачать книгу