Unknown (5 page)

"Wife's upcountry
visiting her sister. Just me in the house along with the staff. Had
planned on running over to the Turf Club for dinner and whist. A
short distance from Mayswood the carriage horse threw a shoe, so we
came back, you see, to hitch up another. Found I'd left my
cigarettes, and while Alfred was changing horses, went back
inside to locate my case. Rather fancy it. Lucky, you see. Turned a
bullet once and saved my life, but that's another story. Anyway, I
went upstairs with Dooley, the butler, on my heels. Old fellow
brushed against a shield on the wall, and it fell with a fearful
clatter. Then we heard another sound above and rushed up. We have an
upstairs sitting room. Used to be a sort of art gallery. Father was
keen on oils. In any case, found the French windows wide open. Rain
blowing in. Someone had been there all right, but not a sign of the
beggar."

Deets paused for a
breath and his delivery slowed down. It was then I gave him credit
for more sense than I had previously.

"Now, I wouldn't be
calling on Mr. Sherlock Holmes if that was the whole story. Fact is,
can't figure how the would-be robber got there. Considering the time
between my leaving Mayswood and my return, the blighter couldn't have
been in the house more than five minutes. A spot sooner and Dooley
and I might have seen him. Now, there's a balcony outside the
gallery. French windows open onto it. But it's thirty feet from the
ground it
it's an inch. Flat marble walls, Mr. Holmes. No
handholds and no convenient ivy. No tree close by, either."

At the beginning of
Deets's story, Holmes's mood had been one of concealed boredom, but
his attention was caught now and he regarded our visitor with that
keen glance that indicated the gears of his mind were meshed and
moving.

"You assume the
uninvited visitor gained access to the balcony?"

Deets had evidently
anticipated this line of thought. "There was no other way for
him to enter the room. All of the downstairs windows at Mayswood are
barred. Doors were all locked and bolted. Dooley had checked them on
my departure. If you would view the premises I think you would agree
with me that entry from the ground floor was impossible. You're the
detective, but from where I sit, the thief had to gain access to the
house via the balcony. For the life of me, I can't see how. He didn't
use a ladder, for Dooley and I rushed right out and there was no sign
of anything like that. Actually," he continued after a
thoughtful moment, "how he got away so fast is as
mystifying as how he entered! No sign of anyone, and yet we'd jolly
well heard him while we were on the stairs. Chap just vanished!"

"Well," said
Holmes, and there was relish in his manner, "you have presented
an intriguing problem. A viewing of the scene is called for,
naturally. But first, some questions that might cast light on the
matter. Your burglar, if that is what he was, is evidently skilled.
Premature assumptions are subject to error, but this does not seem
like a common smash-and-grabber after the family plate. About the
staff, how many in residence?"

"Dooley, of course.
We have a male cook, Frenchman; two inside maids. They all live in
the main house. The gardener and grooms live by the stables in
quarters. Alfred, our coachman, lives outside as well."

Holmes rose and selected
the straight pipe he sometimes fancied. With it, he crossed to the
Persian slipper containing his shag.

"You mentioned flat
marble walls." Our client's round and quite youthful face
creased in a grin and he fingered his moustache.

"Fact is,
Mayswood's a bit of a fortress. Not by intent. Just sort of happened
that way. White marble all round, which is rather the style down our
way. We've considerable grounds, but no trees close to the
house. On a bright moonlit night, place looks a bit like a Greek
temple. Father—gone now—was something of an art
fancier. He had the lower windows barred. Not that his collection was
a famous one. Just an idea he had, you see."

Holmes, puffing out
clouds of smoke, had an almost benign expression on his
hawk-like face. The more our visitor made the entry of the burglar
seem impossible, the better he liked the whole matter. At that moment
I would have wagered five against one that he was thinking: "Ah
ha! This may turn into a two-pipe problem after all."

My friend leaned one arm
against the mantel, peering down at Deets, his eyes alight.

"Your very words
lead us to what may be the key question. What was this elusive
burglar after?"

Both of Deets's hands
turned palms up as though disclaiming any knowledge whatsoever.
"There's the rub, Mr. Holmes. Oh, there're some pieces of value.
One does collect things. But the wife's jewels, what she didn't
take with her, are safely in the box at the County and Suburban. I
keep a spot of currency on hand but it's no great thing. Any articles
of value he may have fancied would not have been easy to leave with.
Furniture, tapestries, and such. There is the family plate, but it's
rather heavy stuff and a man would have some trouble lugging enough
to make it worth his while."

"No papers?
Documents? Bonds?" queried Holmes.

"Some deeds, but
nothing that is convertible." Deets had another thought. "Then
there is this, Mr. Holmes: How's this chap going to get away with
anything at all? He couldn't dump objects off the balcony. A bit
noisy, to say the least. If he tried to get out via the ground floor,
he could unbolt the doors all right, but it still takes a key to open
them."

"That would present
no problem to an accomplished swag man," replied Holmes.
"However, with four persons on the premises, to say nothing of
the outside help, I agree that it would be a risky matter."

"I'm sorry to be
the squirrel with such a hard nut, Mr. Holmes," said our visitor
apologetically.

A faint smile teased the
corners of Holmes's mouth. "If the solution was simple, you
would have no need of me."

Surprise infiltrated
Deets's eyes, to be replaced by the imp of humor. It crossed my mind
that this outgoing type might well have a perspicacity that he took
pains to conceal.

"For a fact,"
he replied agreeably. Then came a sudden thought. "You don't
suppose the rascal—you don't think he came to the wrong house?"

"A possibility,
though I choose to ignore it. For no concrete reason. Just mark
it down to my feeling for such things."

There was a considerable
pause as Holmes, and Deets as well, mused on the matter.

"What would you
have me do?" queried the sleuth finally. "I assume,
from your immediacy on the scene, that nothing was taken."

A negative shake of the
head was his answer.

"Then the tracing
of stolen goods is ruled out. What we have is a burglar, assumed,
whose plan is frustrated by your opportune return to the scene. Means
of entry and, indeed, exit; are unknown." My friend turned
towards Deets suddenly and employed a little trick I had seen him use
before. "You realize, of course, that if he does not try again
there is little chance of ferreting him out."

Our client, for I
considered him as such now, nodded, and there was a seriousness about
him.

"I'm rather
intrigued by puzzles myself. I want to know how this chap got in and
got out so I can make sure it doesn't happen again. I'm willing to
pay and pay well for that information." Possibly he didn't feel
this explanation was in sufficient detail, though it made sense to
me. In any case, after a short pause he continued. "I did
mention the fortress aspects of Mayswood. I guess I never considered
it before, but it does provide a certain peace of mind."

"Temporarily
dispelled by last night's occurrence," said Holmes. "Your
problem is intriguing enough for Watson and myself to come down to
Surrey and look round. I assume it is raining as hard there as
here, so our visit need not be made immediately. Any clues on the
outside of the house have certainly been washed away."

"Dooley and I took
a turn around the grounds with lamps last night, Mr. Holmes. Not with
your expertise, of course. It was a quagmire. I fancy the fellow
could have worn hob-nail boots and no marks would have remained."

Deets's businesslike
approach to the matter seemed to please Holmes. He returned to his
favorite armchair and sat, his hands crossed in his lap, gazing at
the man. There was another pause.

"I wish," said
Holmes rather grudgingly, "that there was some motive for your
nocturnal visitor."

"So do I, Mr.
Holmes," Deets said frankly, meeting the sleuth's intense eyes
squarely.

Holmes finally seemed
satisfied. "All right, Mr. Deets, we'll come down tomorrow. If
the weather continues foul, no matter. Watson and I will be there."

"For lunch,
perhaps?"

"Agreed. In the
interim, I assume your household is on the alert?"

Deets's smile had an
infectious quality. "When I left, Gaston, our chef, was busy
sharpening a rather alarming carving knife. The butler, Dooley, is an
old Crimean man and rather intrigued by the prospect of action. I
noted several pokers were missing, so I suspect the housemaids are
prepared as well. Mayswood is a bit of an armed camp."

"So much the
better," commented Holmes casually. "But let's not have a
poor delivery man set upon by mistake."

On this lighter note,
Clyde Deets made his departure.

I waited, with some
difficulty, until his footfalls faded on the stairs.

"Now see here,
Holmes," I exploded, "I know this presents an enticing
pattern. Mysterious intruder with an obscure motive who
seemingly materializes and then promptly vanishes. All the elements
that you love so well. But there is that matter that Mycroft brought
to your attention."

"And fate.
Burlington Bertie bringing the dying man here was what really got us
involved."

"You're splitting
hairs. The fact is that the Empire could be in difficulties."

"True," he
admitted. "Well, this case of the mysterious intruder seems a
minor one that we may be able to dispose of in short order."

This had to satisfy, and
I turned to the word-squares of the day. Those beguiling combinations
had long ago presented a most nagging challenge until I realized
that I possessed a secret weapon. After a lengthy passage of
time, Holmes broke in on my concentration.

"You know, ol'
fellow, relative to the Surrey matter, I cannot rid myself of the
feeling that all has not been said. If the intruder made his entry
and escape, a fact that we must assume or there is no case, we shall
find out how. What intrigues me no end is the why."

"We certainly don't
know that," I replied, my mind elsewhere.

"But I'm not sure
that the same can be said for Mr. Deets."

"He seemed most
cooperative."

"Unusually so. His
recreation of the event was delightfully to the point. I could
wish witnesses in court were as concise. But there is the question of
his cigarette case."

I lowered my paper.
"You've lost me, Holmes."

"He went upstairs
at Mayswood for his cigarette case that had once turned a bullet and
saved his life. Now I just wonder, Watson, who fired the bullet?"

Chapter
Four

The
Bizarre Intruder

It was shortly
thereafter that Holmes departed the premises. He stated that
there were some investigations regarding our adventure of the
previous evening that he wanted to tend to and that he might even
inquire into Mr. Clyde Deets. I made a move to accompany him but he
would have none of it, stating that his efforts would be but contact
work and did not require my always-welcome assistance.

I turned my hand to my
case history again but could make little progress. There was the
guilty thought that my friend was braving the elements while I
remained cozy and warm within. But I forced myself to brand this as
fruitless castigation. The number of Holmes's available contacts,
regarding all sorts of information, was enormous. It seemed
reasonable that some of them would speak to him more freely without
his biographer in attendance.

At loose ends, I
returned to my word-squares.
^*
Holmes returned in the late
afternoon. As he shook moisture from his coat, I busied myself with
the tantalus and gasogene and we sat before the fire and clinked
glasses.

^*
Also
called "word blocks," they existed in England in the
19
^th
century. In 1913 the first crossword puzzles appeared in publications
and by 1920 achieved the immense popularity they
enjoy today.