John Carr - The Reader Is Warned

'Did you look for it ?'

'Ho! Did we look for it?' said Masters, with a certain sarcasm. 'Between me and the superintendent and his men we've been over every inch of that house. And I mean every inch. It's not in the house. But does that surprise me? Not so's you'd notice it. At the end of the week-end, all .the guests walked away from that house carrying bags. It went away in one of those bags, that's all; somebody pinched it.'

'It's a possibility. Sure. The only objection to it from my point of view is that I don't believe it. I said this before, and in spite of all the burstin' dams I'll say it again. Mina Constable hid that book before she was murdered. If I ever saw a thing in a human face, I saw that in hers; and I'll bet you my hat to a tanner it's still in the house.'

The chief inspector mustered all his force of reasonableness; you could see him doing it.

'Dr Sanders!' he said. 'You're the only one who's seen this scrap-book. About how big was it?'

Sanders considered.

'About eighteen inches high, an inch or so thick, and ten or twelve inches broad, I should say.'

'Eighteen inches high,' continued Masters, holding his hand at that height from the floor, 'and ten or twelve inches broad. What you'd call a stunner of a big book. Outstanding. And bound in heavy stiff imitation leather. She couldn't have burnt it, as you said yourself; she couldn't have destroyed it. She didn't leave the house at any time. Would you like to tell me where in the house she could have hidden a big book like that so that we didn't find it?'

'I dunno, son. I'm bein' stubborn.'

'You are. You mean you think it contains the secret of how all this hocus-pocus was worked?'

'Somethin' like that. Maybe.'

'If it does,' said Masters with restraint, 'by George! It ought to be bought for the nation and put in the British Museum. In the first place if s invisible. In the second place it contains the secret of why two green candles are burned every time a person dies. In the third place it shows how Pennik can be in the bar-parlour of a country hotel and at the same time in the conservatory of a house four miles away -'

'Uh-huh. I admit that. Pennik's the problem; and yet, d'ye know, it may not be so difficult after all. From what I've seen of Pennik-'

Masters stopped him. Masters said:

'From what you've seen of Pennik? But you haven't seen him yet! He wouldn't meet us at the Black Swan on Sunday night. You haven't seen him at all.'

'Oh yes, I have,' said H. M, He removed his glasses, which gave his eyes a different, rather caved-in expression of bleariness; it suddenly turned him into a stranger. After looking at the glasses through the light, he replaced them. But for a moment he had really looked like the old man.

'Oh yes, I have,' he repeated. 'Like young Chase on a certain interestin' occasion, I didn't meet him and I didn't talk to him; but I saw him.'

‘When? Where?'

‘Last night, in the Gold Grill Room of the Corinthian Hotel. I'm well treated, I am. I've got two daughters whose greatest pleasure in life is to make me lose sleep. For every extra hour of sleep they can make me lose, it's one up to them. So I got dragged off for an after-theatre supper. And there was Pennik in the Gold Grill Room of the Corinthian, blossomin' out in all his grandeur. Havin' supper with him was Hilary Keen.'

The chief inspector whisded.

Sanders, on the other hand, wondered whether he could ever leave off doubting anything or anyone in this world. He could not decipher the expression on H. M.'s face.

'Well, what of it?' Sanders demanded; and yet jealousy struck as sharp and quick as a dart in a board. 'Why shouldn't she? Though I'm having dinner with her to-night myself, and I hadn't heard anything about it. But I can't afford places like the Corinthian.'

'If I thought,' muttered the chief inspector, 'that that young lady was in cahoots with Pennik -'

H. M.'s weary gesture cut short his excitement.

'Oh, Masters, my son. Nol Pennik's not in cahoots with anybody; Pennik's the lone wolf. But don't you see the real point I'm drivin' at? There she was, all coloured up and half-way out of a gown like my two gals. And yet she was scared, Masters, blind scared and watchin' Pennik out of the corner of her eye even when he only lifted his hand to call a waiter.' He paused.

'As for Pennik, Pennik wasn't too happy about one thing. That grill room's got lots of glare and glitter and red plush, but it's a tiny little place. When it's overcrowded, the effect on the nerves of anybody who can't stand being shut in - like Pennik - must be pretty raw. All that kept him going was to look at her. Y'see, he's fallen for her in a way I don't like one little bit. And that brings us to the point.'

He peered round at Sanders.

'I haven't said much about your affairs, son. What you're beginning to feel for Joe Keen's daughter may be only action-on-the-rebound or it may be the real thing. That's not important at the moment. What's important is this: at the rate things are goin' now, as sure as God made little apples you and Pennik are due to collide with a smash. Had you thought about that?' ‘No.'

'Then think about it, son,' said H. M. sombrely. 'Because once before, Masters tells me - hullo!'

He broke off, drawing his eyebrows together. Hilary Keen in the flesh, followed by Lawrence Chase, had just come through the revolving door of the restaurant, stamping and shaking rain from their waterproofs. Lowering her umbrella, Hilary glanced out rather apprehensively at the street. The storm, which seemed to have been dying down, had swung back again. A glint of lightning looked pale over the solidness of Whitehall; and, with a shake in that curtain, a faint crackle of thunder exploded along the sky and joined the rain.

Chase ducked his head in such a way so to tilt the water from the brim of his bowler hat. He looked up under it.

'Good afternoon, good afternoon,' he said. 'Anybody who says "speak of the devil" will hereby and on the instant receive to-day's cliche" cup. At the same time, I've got a distinct feeling you were just discussing either Hilary or myself. Am I correct? - as Pennik would say.'

Hilary tried to keep up the same light atmosphere. She and Sanders looked at each other, and both looked away again.

'You're quite right,' agreed H. M., beckoning to a waiter. 'Sit down, both of you. Have a coffee with us. And a cigar.'

'I don't want a cigar, really,' said Hilary, taking off her hat and shaking back her rich brown hair. Sanders set out a chair for her. 'And I can only stop a moment. I don't get two and a half hours for lunch like some people. But I was on my way back to Richmond Terrace, and I met this tempter, and - I was curious.'

Chase tossed his cigarette-case on the table.

.. 'As a matter of fact,' he admitted, 'so was I. And still am.’

'Oh, ah?' asked Masters affably. 'About what, sir?'

'If I knew that,' said Chase, 'I wouldn't be curious. About why you wanted to see me, among other things. Is anything else up ? Anything besides what we know, that is ? My God, poor old Mina!'

The edges of his eyelids were pinkish. He hitched his chair closer to the table.

'I wouldn't have believed it. It's the worst mess ever devised by man, beast, or what's-its-name. Look round you. Look out there - newspaper-bills. Look in here - newspapers. That table, and that table, and that table.' He glanced back quickly. 'Er - I say, you don't think anybody knows we're connected with It, do you?'

'Well, sir, they won't if you keep your voice down.'

Chase seemed to dwindle.

'Sorry,' he whispered. 'But I warned Mina, and she wouldn't listen. Ifs not that I think this fellow has any supernatural power; it's only that these things keep on happening. Now I've got to straighten things out. You probably know that Sam was a distant relative of mine.'

'Is that so, now?' inquired Masters, with interest.

'Yes; didn't you see it in the obituary notice? His father's name was Lawrence Chase Constable. I'm a second-cousin.' Chase looked glum. 'Not that I inherit any of his money, worse luck.'

'No?'

‘No. Well, except for a hundred pounds, which hardly

counts. The trouble is, who does inherit it? Am I speaking

in confidence?'

'Entirely, sir. Entirely!'

'Sam's will,' Chase explained, opening his cigarette-case, 'left everything entirely and unconditionally to Mina. But Mina, who never thought of such things, died without leaving a will. And Mina has no kin whatever, not a surviving relative in the world. Which means that legally Mina's estate, and Sam's very large estate on top of that, must revert to the Crown.

'Now that will cause a dust-up for fair, because the whole thing will certainly be contested by Sam's relatives. Not by me, though! In the first place, I'm appointed joint executor and trustee of Sam's estate with an old moss-back named Rich, Sir John Rich. In the second place, Sam's other sur-viving relatives are a sister and two first cousins. If they win their claim, the sister will grab the lot; or what she doesn't grab will be taken by the first cousins; and I should be no- where even if I tried. That's the position, quite frankly. All I get is the dirty work of administering the estate and a kick in the backside whatever happens. Ah, well. The thrice- damned Pennik -'

He straightened the shoulders of his very elegant coat, he lighted a cigarette with concentration, and evidently decided to say no more.

'Bad luck, sir,' consoled Masters.

'Ah, well. It's all in the game. What really matters is that poor old Sam and Mina are both dead.'

·Yes, sir. But-'

'But what?'

The now-too-affable chief inspector produced a metaphorical hand-grenade, examined it, pulled out the pin, and dropped it among them. You could almost see him searching for an excuse to drop it.

Masters frowned.

'Nothing, sir. Only best not to speak too harshly of Mr Pennik in present company. Eh?'

‘Present company?'

'I mean in front of Miss Keen.'

‘Look here, what's Hilary got to do with all this ?'

Masters assumed a heavy air of surprise. 'Well, that's to say: Miss Keen is a great friend of Mr Pennik. Aren't you, miss? After all, going out to a slap-up supper with him on the night after Mrs Constable died -'

Hilary had not spoken.

Her chair was cramped in close to Sanders's, but she did not turn her head. He could see only the smooth line of her hair, cut rather long and curling in below the ears, and the smooth line of her neck above the plain dark-blue dress. But he felt her breathe.

The uncomfortable pause was only prolonged by the-waiter bringing coffee-cups and rattling them.

Then Hilary raised her head. She spoke to H. M.

'Why do you dislike me so much, Sir Henry?' she asked.

'me? Dislike you?'

'Yes. You do, don't you? Is it because you're a friend of Sir Dennis Blystone? Is it?'

'My dear gal, I don't know what you're talkin' about. What's Denny Blystone got to do with this ?'

'Never mind,' said Hilary, picking up a match-box and; playing with it. 'I saw you at the Corinthian last night. Looking and looking and looking and looking. You pretended not to see us, but you even stumbled past our table so that you could get a good look. I suppose it was you who told the chief inspector about it?'

For a moment H. M. did not reply. He seemed oddly fussed. Making a careful selection of a cigar from a tray of boxes the waiter handed round, he growled and glowered.

'Well, y'know ... you were there, weren't you?'

'Yes. Oh, God, yes. I was there.'

'Of your own free will?'

'Of my own free will.'

'And it's a mighty public place, the Corinthian is. At any minute I expected a squad of reporters to come chasin' in and set off a lot of flash-bulbs-'