Detectives and Young Adventurers: The Complete Short Stories

‘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.’

‘Can’t you cut out the melodrama?’ asked Tommy plaintively. ‘Have I got to say, “You villain, I’ll foil you yet”? That sort of thing is so very much out of date.’

‘What about the girl?’ said the other, watching him. ‘Doesn’t that move you?’

‘Putting two and two together during my enforced silence just now,’ said Tommy. ‘I have come to the inevitable conclusion that that chatty lad Harker is another of the doers of desperate deeds, and that therefore my unfortunate secretary will shortly join this little tea party.’

‘Right as to one point, but wrong on the other. Mrs Beresford – you see, I know all about you – Mrs Beresford will not be brought here. That is a little precaution I took. It occurred to me that just probably your friends in high places might be keeping you shadowed. In that case, by dividing the pursuit, you could not both be trailed. I should still keep one in my hands. I am waiting now –’

He broke off as the door opened. The chauffeur spoke.

‘We’ve not been followed, sir. It’s all clear.’

‘Good. You can go, Gregory.’

The door closed again.

‘So far, so good,’ said the ‘Duke.’ ‘And now what are we to do with you, Mr Beresford Blunt?’

‘I wish you’d take this confounded eyeshade off me,’ said Tommy.

‘I think not. With it on, you are truly blind – without it you would see as well as I do – and that would not suit my little plan. For I have a plan. You are fond of sensational fiction, Mr Blunt. This little game that you and your wife were playing today proves that. Now I, too, have arranged a little game – something rather ingenious, as I am sure you will admit when I explain it to you.

‘You see, this floor on which you are standing is made of metal, and here and there on its surface are little projections. I touch a switch – so.’ A sharp click sounded. ‘Now the electric current is switched on. To tread on one of those little knobs now means – death! You understand? If you could see . . . but you cannot see. You are in the dark. That is the game – Blindman’s Buff with death. If you can reach the door in safety – freedom! But I think that long before you reach it you will have trodden on one of the danger spots. And that will be very amusing – for me!’

He came forward and unbound Tommy’s hands. Then he handed him his cane with a little ironical bow.

‘The blind Problemist. Let us see if he will solve this problem. I shall stand here with my pistol ready. If you raise your hands to your head to remove that eyeshade, I shoot. Is that clear?’

‘Perfectly clear,’ said Tommy. He was rather pale, but determined. ‘I haven’t a dog’s chance, I suppose?’

‘Oh! that –’ the other shrugged his shoulders.

‘Damned ingenious devil, aren’t you?’ said Tommy. ‘But you’ve forgotten one thing. May I light a cigarette by the way? My poor little heart’s going pit-a-pat.’

‘You may light a cigarette – but no tricks. I am watching you, remember, with the pistol ready.’

‘I’m not a performing dog,’ said Tommy. ‘I don’t do tricks.’ He extracted a cigarette from his case, then felt for a match box. ‘It’s all right. I’m not feeling for a revolver. But you know well enough that I’m not armed. All the same, as I said before, you’ve forgotten one thing.’

‘What is that?’

Tommy took a match from the box, and held it ready to strike.

‘I’m blind and you can see. That’s admitted. The advantage is with you. But supposing we were both in the dark – eh? Where’s your advantage then?’

He struck the match.

‘Thinking of shooting at the switch of the lights? Plunging the room into darkness? It can’t be done.’

‘Just so,’ said Tommy. ‘I can’t give you darkness. But extremes meet, you know. What about light?’

As he spoke, he touched the match to something he held in his hand, and threw it down upon the table.

A blinding glare filled the room.

Just for a minute, blinded by the intense white light, the ‘Duke’ blinked and fell back, his pistol hand lowered.

He opened his eyes again to feel something sharp pricking his breast.