The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
home as it does like a night club."
A big man in a light overcoat was the speaker. His face was coarse and dissipated, and suddenly he pulled a flask from his pocket and took a deep drink. The only other occupant of the room shrugged his shoulders.
"You were in such an infernal hurry," he said, "that this was the best I could do in the time."
"But why were you such a fool as to let her go upstairs," snarled the first speaker. "Her twin; and you imagine she won't spot it."
"Dry up, Barnet," answered the other angrily. "I'm getting fed to the back teeth with you. She said she'd got the thing on her, and I believed her. Even if I hadn't, what do you suggest I should have done? Snatched her bag out of her hand to make sure. Of course she wouldn't have suspected anything then, would she? Might have gone further and slogged her over the head with a poker: that's what the doctor in charge of a home generally does to his female visitors."
Sir Montague Barnet took another drink.
"All right: all right," he grunted. "Don't go off the deep end about it. I know you did all you could. That slab of misery who fetched her should have seen that she brought it."
He glanced at his watch.
"She should be here by now if she's coming," he said uneasily. "It's past nine."
"I'll go and see that everything is ready," remarked the other. "And don't smoke that cigar, and have the smell all over the house."
"Perhaps you're right," grunted Barnet, replacing it in his case. "Though once we've got it," he continued with a leer, "she can suspect what she likes."
"Can she?" said the other significantly. "I'm not so sure about that."
He went out of the room, leaving the baronet cursing under his breath. And it was not until the flask had been requisitioned for the third time that he took from his pocket the counterpart of the map sent to Judy Draycott, and put it on the table in front of him.
For the twentieth time he studied it only to give it up as a bad job. Where the deuce was A? Until they could get that point fixed it was useless. And he was just replacing it in his pocket when he swung round in his chair with a strangled cry. For the blind man had entered noiselessly and had touched him on the shoulder.
"Good God! Emil, I wish you wouldn't do that," he snarled. "I'd no idea you were here. My nerves are all to hell."
"Judging by the aroma," sneered the dwarf, "you have been doing your best to raise them from the lower regions."
"It isn't you who have had the strain," cried Barnet angrily. "So less of your damned sarcasm, if you don't mind."
Then he pulled himself together.
"Look here, Emil," he said, "there's no good in our quarrelling. What are we going to do supposing this girl goes to the police? I don't see how she can avoid finding out that it isn't her brother."
"Provided she brings the paper—what matter? She has no idea her brother is dead, and even if the worst should happen here, all Waterlow has to do is to say that he made a mistake. It is not a criminal offence to think a man is a girl's brother when he isn't."
"No, but it might prove deuced awkward. Anyway, Emil, if anything should come out: if Maitland, for instance, should give trouble, you and I know it was Ernesto who did it."
An evil smile flickered over the blind man's lips.
"Do we?" he murmured. "My dear Monty, I heard a shot, and you tell me it was Ernesto who fired it. And with my sad affliction I have to take your word."
"You little devil," said the other hoarsely, the veins standing out on his forehead. "You know as well as I do that it was the dago."
"As I say, I take your word for it, my dear fellow. In a court of law, however, I fear that that would not count for much. No, no, Monty—please remember that. You understand, of course, that I merely mention it to ensure you taking every precaution against being found out. Of course I am the one person who could not have done it, so it does not really matter to me. I am merely being altruistic."
For a moment it looked as if the baronet was going to strike him. His big hairy fist was raised above his head, and murder was in his eyes. Then with a great effort he pulled himself together, and his hand fell to his side.
"You were present, anyway," he said sullenly.
"True. But a poor blind man is so helpless," said the dwarf gently. "And he had to take precautions to safeguard himself in this harsh world. And that's why I just mentioned it to you, Monty. You would hardly believe it, but there have been times in my life when scoundrels—men I have befriended, men I have been working with—have tried to double-cross me. So just remember won't you? I have no idea who fired the shot, which might prove awkward for you."
For a moment or two the other stared at him, fascinated: then his teeth bared in an evil snarl. But his voice was normal when he answered.
"I'll remember," he said.
"Good! And now it might be well to see if our friend is compos mentis again. His snores were reverberating through the house a little while ago."
"I'll go and get him," said Barnet, and the dwarf was left alone. For a while he stood motionless: then feeling his way with an uncanny delicacy of touch he proceeded to explore his unfamiliar surroundings. At length he seemed satisfied, and drawing up a chair, he sat down as the door opened and Barnet came in with an odd-looking character behind him. He was a short, thick-set man dressed in a blue reefer suit, and as he stood there fingering his cap, and staring a little fearfully at the dwarf, it required no Sherlock Holmes to deduce his profession. He was a sailor, and quite clearly he had been celebrating his time ashore in a manner not unusual with his class. He rolled slightly as he took a few steps forward into the room, and as he came under the light a large jagged scar down one side of his face showed up vividly.
"Good evening, Mr. Robinson," said the dwarf gently. "I trust you have recovered from your—er—jag."
"I'm all right, guv'nor, thank you," said the man still twisting his cap nervously in his hand. "I understand as 'ow you wants to ask me summat."
"That is so," agreed Dresler. "I was making some enquiries the other day for a seaman with an intimate knowledge of the east coast of South America, and your name was given to me."
"I reckons I knows every port from Georgetown to the Horn," said the sailor.
"Excellent. I understood that most of your time had been spent in the coasting trade. Now have you, in the course of your wanderings, ever struck a place called by the English, Lone Tree Island?"
"Lone Tree Island! South of Santos. You bet your life I know it, guv'nor; know it well enough to give it a mighty wide berth."
"Most interesting. And may I ask why you would give it a wide berth?"
"Because, guv'nor, the man who doesn't don't have no second chance. There be things on that island wot no man may see—and live. It be accursed."
"Really: really. You grow more and more interesting, Mr. Robinson. And may I ask how you know this? Is it merely what you've heard from other people, or have you been there yourself to see?"
"Both, guv'nor. I've been there myself: we lay up once for well-nigh a week to the south of the island with a damaged shaft. And I've 'eard from other men too: things wot they've seen. Gawd! I wouldn't spend the night on that island not for a 'undred quid. Straight—I wouldn't."
"What sort of things, Mr. Robinson?"
"Monstrous things, guv'nor: 'orrors. Things that was never made of 'uman parents. Aye! you may laugh, sir"—he turned to Barnet, who was smiling incredulously—"but wot I tells you is the truth. You ask any sailor who knows the coast and 'e'll tell you the same as wot I do."
"I am quite sure that what Mr. Robinson says is correct," said the dwarf. "And