“Phil,” he said, “we must report this at once.”
“Let’s hold off on that for a while, Harry.”
Another frown. “But this is a personal violation. A defilement. And if one of his servants is a thief, Lord Purleigh must learn of it.”
“Whoever he was, he didn’t take anything. And if we tell the boss, all the servants will know we know. Including the one who did it. Maybe things will work out better if he doesn’t know.”
The Great Man considered this. Then he nodded. “We shall possess knowledge that he does not.”
“Like a magician and his audience.”
He nodded again. “It provides us an advantage. And possibly it will enable us to catch him in the act.”
“Right.”
He grinned. “Excellent. I approve. Mum is the word, eh?”
“Mum,” I said.
“Excellent.”
After the Great Man went back inside his room, I reached down into the empty bag and pressed the two concealed snaps with my thumbs. I raised the bag’s false bottom. The little Colt .32 was still in there. So were the spare magazines.
I replaced the bottom. I hung some clothes in the wardrobe, took my watch from my pocket, placed it on the night table. I undressed, climbed into my pajamas and robe, grabbed the toilet case, went into the bathroom and washed up.
When I opened the bathroom door, the Great Man was standing outside it in his own pajamas. They were impressive. They were black silk and the lapels were piped with gold, and a large ornate golden H was stitched over the chest pocket. He was carrying his toothbrush in one hand and his tooth powder in the other and he was wearing his black silk blindfold across his forehead.
“Good night, Harry,” I said.
He stuck the toothbrush into his left hand, with the tooth powder, and then reached up to his ear and twisted out the lump of beeswax. “What was that?”
“Good night.”
He smiled and nodded. “Good night, Phil. Many pleasant dreams.” He corked up his ear again.
At night he put the blindfold across his eyes and the lumps of wax into his ears because he believed he was an insomniac. He wasn’t. All night long, maybe, he dreamed he was awake. But I had slept in the same compartment with him on the train from Paris to Amsterdam, and for hours I had listened to snores that sounded like coupling hogs. In the morning he told me he hadn’t slept a wink.
I returned to my room, shutting the dividing door behind me. I took off my robe and hung it on a hanger in the wardrobe, then slipped into bed and turned off the light.
I lay there for a while wondering who had broken into my bag. I decided there was nothing I could do about it now. A few minutes later I was asleep.
Something had awakened me.
The door to the suite opening? A footstep?
My eyes were wide open. I narrowed them slightly. I was lying flat on my back. My head was facing the door, my hands were outside the covers.
I kept my breathing slow and regular.
The clouds must have cleared away outside. A slab of moonlight slanted across the room and painted a rectangle of colorless design on the dark Oriental carpet.
I listened.
I heard the faint ticking of my watch on the night table. Nothing else.
With my eyes still narrowed, I peered through the gloom toward the door.
Was there something there, someone there, a lighter shade of gray lurking over there in the darkness?
There was. Something tall and thin. Something the color of ash. It had moved toward me.
It moved again. Very slowly. Silently.
I found myself wishing that I had taken the Colt from the suitcase and tucked it beneath my pillow. I hadn’t thought I would need it tonight.
The thing came closer. It was only a pale smudge against the sooty background and it made no sound at all. And then it floated into the spill of frosty moonlight and I saw that it was a figure shrouded from head to toe in white. It wore a hood that made an empty hole where the face should have been. It held something in its right hand, something that gleamed
“Let’s hold off on that for a while, Harry.”
Another frown. “But this is a personal violation. A defilement. And if one of his servants is a thief, Lord Purleigh must learn of it.”
“Whoever he was, he didn’t take anything. And if we tell the boss, all the servants will know we know. Including the one who did it. Maybe things will work out better if he doesn’t know.”
The Great Man considered this. Then he nodded. “We shall possess knowledge that he does not.”
“Like a magician and his audience.”
He nodded again. “It provides us an advantage. And possibly it will enable us to catch him in the act.”
“Right.”
He grinned. “Excellent. I approve. Mum is the word, eh?”
“Mum,” I said.
“Excellent.”
After the Great Man went back inside his room, I reached down into the empty bag and pressed the two concealed snaps with my thumbs. I raised the bag’s false bottom. The little Colt .32 was still in there. So were the spare magazines.
I replaced the bottom. I hung some clothes in the wardrobe, took my watch from my pocket, placed it on the night table. I undressed, climbed into my pajamas and robe, grabbed the toilet case, went into the bathroom and washed up.
When I opened the bathroom door, the Great Man was standing outside it in his own pajamas. They were impressive. They were black silk and the lapels were piped with gold, and a large ornate golden H was stitched over the chest pocket. He was carrying his toothbrush in one hand and his tooth powder in the other and he was wearing his black silk blindfold across his forehead.
“Good night, Harry,” I said.
He stuck the toothbrush into his left hand, with the tooth powder, and then reached up to his ear and twisted out the lump of beeswax. “What was that?”
“Good night.”
He smiled and nodded. “Good night, Phil. Many pleasant dreams.” He corked up his ear again.
At night he put the blindfold across his eyes and the lumps of wax into his ears because he believed he was an insomniac. He wasn’t. All night long, maybe, he dreamed he was awake. But I had slept in the same compartment with him on the train from Paris to Amsterdam, and for hours I had listened to snores that sounded like coupling hogs. In the morning he told me he hadn’t slept a wink.
I returned to my room, shutting the dividing door behind me. I took off my robe and hung it on a hanger in the wardrobe, then slipped into bed and turned off the light.
I lay there for a while wondering who had broken into my bag. I decided there was nothing I could do about it now. A few minutes later I was asleep.
Something had awakened me.
The door to the suite opening? A footstep?
My eyes were wide open. I narrowed them slightly. I was lying flat on my back. My head was facing the door, my hands were outside the covers.
I kept my breathing slow and regular.
The clouds must have cleared away outside. A slab of moonlight slanted across the room and painted a rectangle of colorless design on the dark Oriental carpet.
I listened.
I heard the faint ticking of my watch on the night table. Nothing else.
With my eyes still narrowed, I peered through the gloom toward the door.
Was there something there, someone there, a lighter shade of gray lurking over there in the darkness?
There was. Something tall and thin. Something the color of ash. It had moved toward me.
It moved again. Very slowly. Silently.
I found myself wishing that I had taken the Colt from the suitcase and tucked it beneath my pillow. I hadn’t thought I would need it tonight.
The thing came closer. It was only a pale smudge against the sooty background and it made no sound at all. And then it floated into the spill of frosty moonlight and I saw that it was a figure shrouded from head to toe in white. It wore a hood that made an empty hole where the face should have been. It held something in its right hand, something that gleamed
Similar Books
