The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
Jim curiously.
"Ever since you arrived," replied the other. "You are the most silent mover, Mr. Maitland, that I have ever met, and I congratulate you on it. But I have certain advantages, as you know. I trust your little experience last night has done you no harm."
Jim Maitland lit a cigarette, and pulling up a chair, sat down. The situation was a novel one for him. Not for many years had he found himself similarly placed. On several occasions he had been in tight corners, where only quick shooting and his great strength had saved him. But that had been physical: this was mental. And not since he could remember, did he recall having been up against one man who so definitely threatened him with an inferiority complex.
"Quite right," continued the blind man. "Make yourself comfortable. And your friend too. By the way, you still have not introduced us."
"It would be a little awkward for you if he happened to be connected with the police," remarked Jim.
"A little," agreed the other. "But I happen to know he is not. The police do not as a general rule own Bentleys or belong to the Dorchester club."
"True, Mr. Dresler—very true."
"Did that rat Goldstein tell you my name?" snapped the dwarf.
"Your information with regard to my movements seems fairly complete," remarked Jim. "It is refreshing to find something you don't know. However, for your benefit it was not Goldstein. He disowned all knowledge of you, though I fear he did not do it very well. No, Mr. Dresler, it appears that you are quite a well-known character in the criminal world."
"You flatter me," said the other. "At the same time your use of the word criminal is hardly polite."
"And I was just wondering," continued Jim, "what would be the result if I used your telephone, not for the exchange, but for the police station."
The blind man waved a deprecating hand.
"I admit, Mr. Maitland, that such a course is possible. Though I should hate to think that you would do anything so crude. What, incidentally, would you tell them?"
"The truth," said Jim briefly. "As seen by me last night."
"As I said, such a course is possible," repeated the other. "Nevertheless, there are one or two small points that strike me. In the first place what are you both doing in this house, and how did you get in?"
"You know quite well how I got in."
"My dear sir, of course. But the police would want to know. And to the official eye it looks very like house-breaking. A serious offence, Mr. Maitland. Then there is a further point. Why not tell the police at Streatham this afternoon whatever story you are proposing to tell them now?"
"Agreed," said Jim. "They would probably be very angry with me. But, Mr. Dresler, they would, I think, be even more angry with you."
"I doubt it. After all, your conduct to the official eye has been most reprehensible. You arrived here last night, having broken into the house, in a condition of disgusting drunkenness. So violent did you become that I was on the point of summoning assistance when mercifully you fell asleep. And two friends of mine very kindly laid you out to cool somewhere."
"Do you deny that a man was shot in this room last night?"
"My dear Mr. Maitland—what an absurd delusion. You must have been more drunk even than I thought. It is perfectly true that a man was knocked down. But—shot! Why, where is the body? What has become of it? And if that is the accusation you have to bring—the gravest of all, murder—it was doubly reprehensible of you not to tell the police at once."
In spite of himself Jim laughed.
"You damned little scoundrel," he said. "Where is this conversation leading to?"
"That, my friend, remains to be seen," answered Dresler. "To be quite truthful, Mr. Maitland, I had to assume that you would pass on your strange delusion to the police as soon as you recovered. I therefore made my plans accordingly. When, however, I found that you had said nothing I revised my estimate of your character. I had you shadowed from the time you left the police station, and it soon became clear that you were going to play a lone hand. Your conversation with Goldstein confirmed the fact."
"So he passed it on, did he?" said Jim.
"At once," replied the other. "Now I like people who play lone hands. They belong by unquestioned right to the fellowship of one. Shall we play on the same side, or not? Shall we join forces, or shall we fight?"
"The proposition requires thought," said Jim, with a warning glimpse at his cousin who with his mouth open and his eyes almost falling out of his head had been following the conversation in silence.
"What advantage is it to you," he continued, "if we amalgamate?"
"I will be candid," said the blind man. "From enquiries I have made about you to-day I have learned several things. You are, I gather, one of those men who like adventure for adventure's sake. You are further an almost legendary figure as far as a scrap is concerned. Last night I managed to control your drunken frenzy, but I am not under any delusions that I should be able to do it a second time. And, while I think of it, may I apologise for that absurd note you received. It was sent when I had no idea as to the manner of man you were."
Jim laughed again.
"I accept your apology," he said gravely.
"Very well, then," continued the other. "It is clear to me that you and I are going to see more of one another in the future. Your presence to-night proves that you are of—shall we say—a curious disposition. And, in brief, I would sooner have you on my side than against me. What do you say?"
"Your side in what?" asked Jim mildly. "Forgive my denseness, but you speak in riddles."
"Is that so, Mr. Maitland?" said the other leaning forward. "Just how much do you know?"
"It would seem," remarked Jim, "that there are one or two things on which you are not omniscient. However, I still await an answer to a very simple question. Your side in what? Running a gambling den?"
The blind man sat silent, motionless: almost it seemed as if he was trying by some form of telepathy to read the other's brain. And his problem was as clear as if he had spoken aloud. Was it merely the sound of the shot that had brought Jim Maitland in the night before? Was it pure coincidence, or was there something more behind it? It was impossible for the dwarf to know of his acquaintance with Judy Draycott: at the same time men of Dresler's kidney are by nature ultra-cautious. And knowing as he did that Jim had recently returned from South America, the reason for his hesitation was obvious.
"No: not that, Mr. Maitland," he said at length. "In fact owing entirely to you our little club below has ceased, as you doubtless observed on your way up. But it is possible that in the near future we might be of great assistance to one another."
"You flatter me," said Jim.
"My strong point, if I may say so, lies more in the planning of schemes, and in their organisation, rather than in actually carrying them out. My infirmity is a great handicap. And as I say, I have great hopes that very shortly I shall be in a position to put a suggestion in front of you which will appeal enormously to a man of your temperament."
"Why this altruism, Mr. Dresler?"
"For the reason I have already stated. I would sooner have you on my side than against me. And from the estimate I have formed of your character it will be impossible to do what I would most prefer—dismiss you altogether."
"Very frank," laughed Jim. "And what is the nature of this suggestion?"
"Should you accept my proposal I will tell you in due course. I may say that it is perfectly legal."
"That must be rather a novelty for you, Mr. Dresler," said Jim rising. "Of course, you will quite understand that it is impossible for me to commit myself in any way until you are more explicit. But at the same time, should your scheme appeal to me, I shall be quite prepared to consider it on its merits."
"Excellent," remarked