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Updated: June 27, 2025
Door of Kazmah's is locked. I knocked and got no reply." "Damn it! You're talking nonsense! There must be another exit." "No, sir. Colleague has just relieved me. Left two gents over their wine at Prince's." Monte Irvin's color began to fade slowly. "Then it's Pyne!" he whispered. The hand which held the receiver shook. "Brisley meet me at the Piccadilly end of Bond Street. I am coming now."
He fixed his gaze now upon the pale features of Brisley. "I've seen you before, haven't I?" "Yes, Chief Inspector," said Brisley, licking his lips. "Hayward's Heath. We have been retained by " "You have been retained!" shouted Kerry. "You have!" He twisted round upon his heel, facing Monte Irvin. Angry words trembled on his tongue.
Brisley and Gunn, standing very close together on the bottom step of the stair to the third floor, watched the police furtively. Irvin and Gray found a common fascination in the door itself, and Seton, cheroot in mouth, looked from group to group with quiet interest. "Right!" cried the Sergeant. The blows ceased. Firmly grasping the bar, Burton brought all his weight to bear upon it.
With one surprising spring he hurled himself upon the unprepared man, grasped him by his coat collar, and shone the light of an electric torch fully into his face. "Hell!" he snapped. "The smart from Spinker's!" The ray of the torch lighted up the mean, pinched face of Brisley, blanched now by fright, gleamed upon the sharp, hooked nose and into the cunning little brown eyes.
Brisley licked his lips. In Kerry's muscular grip he bore quite a remarkable resemblance to a rat in the jaws of a terrier. "Ho, ho!" continued the Chief Inspector, showing his teeth savagely. "So we let Scotland Yard make the pie, and then we steal all the plums, do we?"
"Ah, Brisley!" he said, "I was looking for you. Are they still there?" "Probably, sir." Brisley licked his lips. "My colleague, Gunn, reports no one came out whilst I was away 'phoning." "But the whole thing seems preposterous. Are there no other offices in the block where they might be?" "I personally saw Mr. Gray, Sir Lucien Pyne and the lady go into Kazmah's.
Irvin has fainted. Lend a hand." "I am here," replied the quiet voice of Seton Pasha. "My God!" whispered Gray. "Seton! Seton!" "Touch nothing," cried the Inspector from outside, "until I come!" And now the narrow apartment became filled with all the awe-stricken company, only excepting Monte Irvin, and Brisley, who was attending to the swooning man.
Just inside the second door were Brisley and Gunn, both palpably ill at ease, and glancing at Inspector Whiteleaf, who had been interrogating them. Kerry chewed silently for a moment, bestowing a fierce stare upon each face in turn, then: "Who's in charge?" he snapped. "I am," replied Whiteleaf. "Why is the lower door open?" "I thought " "Don't think. Shut the door. Post your Sergeant inside.
He crossed the room, going in to where the surgeon was examining the victim of this mysterious crime. Gunn stared after him dismally. "A person doesn't get much sympathy from the police, Brisley," he declared. "That one's almost as bad as him," jerking his thumb in the direction of the landing. Brisley smiled in a somewhat sickly manner.
Regaining his self-possession by a visible effort, he crossed to a small side-table upon which the instrument rested. Rolling the cigar stump into the left corner of his mouth, he took up the receiver. "Hallo!" he said. "Someone named Brisley, sir, wishes " "Put him through to me here." "Very good, sir." A short interval, then: "Yes?" said Monte Irvin. "My name is Brisley. I have a message for Mr.
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