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Updated: July 8, 2025
"You read?" exclaimed his friend suspiciously. "I still use the familiar phrases," explained Carrados, with a smile. "As a matter of fact, my secretary reads to me. I mark what I want to hear and when he comes at ten o'clock we clear off the morning papers in no time." "And how do you know what to mark?" demanded Mr. Carlyle cunningly.
We may encounter a bishop, or a winning jockey, or even a musical comedy actress. Unfortunately it seems to be rather a slack time." "Two men came down while you were in your cubicle," remarked Carrados casually. "The first took the lift. I imagine that he was a middle-aged, rather portly man. He carried a stick, wore a silk hat, and used spectacles for close sight. The other came by the stairway.
"I know you did, but your Parkinson is the sort of man who has very little about him to describe. He is the embodiment of the ordinary. His height is about average " "Five feet nine," murmured Carrados. "Slightly above the mean." "Scarcely noticeably so. Clean-shaven. Medium brown hair. No particularly marked features. Dark eyes. Good teeth." "False," interposed Carrados.
Fortune favoured him, however. He very soon discovered a Wynn Carrados living at Richmond, and, better still, further search failed to unearth another. There was, apparently, only one householder at all events of that name in the neighbourhood of London. He jotted down the address and set out for Richmond. The house was some distance from the station, Mr. Carlyle learned.
The disadvantages of spreading it broadcast immeasurably outweigh the benefits." "I have considered," announced Drishna. "I will do as you wish." "Very well," said Carrados. "Here is some plain notepaper. You had better write a letter to someone saying that the financial difficulties in which you are involved make life unbearable." "But there are no financial difficulties now."
Negotiations hung on in several quarters it's a bad time to do business here, I find. Then, yesterday, I wanted something. I went to Lucas Street, as I had done half-a-dozen times before, opened my safe, and had the inner case carried to a room.... Mr. Carrados, it was empty!" "Quite empty?" "No." He laughed bitterly. "At the bottom was a sheet of wrapper paper.
"That does not matter in the least. It will be put down to an hallucination and taken as showing the state of your mind." "But what guarantee have we that he will not escape?" whispered Mr. Carlyle. "He cannot escape," replied Carrados tranquilly. "His identity is too clear." "I have no intention of trying to escape," put in Drishna, as he wrote.
Carrados?" asked Drishna shrewdly. Carrados's hand closed on the weapon that still lay on the table between them. Without a word he pushed it across. "I see," commented Drishna, with a short laugh and a gleaming eye. "Shoot myself and hush it up to suit your purpose. Withhold my message to save the exposures of a trial, and keep the flame from the torch of insurrectionary freedom."
"You wished to see me?" said Drishna, unable to stand the ordeal of the silence that Carrados imposed after his remark. "When you left Miss Chubb's house you left a ruler behind." One lay on the desk by Carrados and he took it up as he spoke. "I don't understand what you are talking about," said Drishna guardedly. "You are making some mistake."
Already the stinging rain had lashed the drive into the semblance of a frothy estuary; all round the lightning jagged its course through the incessant tremulous glow of more distant lightning, while the thunder only ceased its muttering to turn at close quarters and crackle viciously. "One of the few things I regret missing," remarked Carrados tranquilly; "but I hear a good deal of colour in it."
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