Читать книгу The Dark Eyes of London - Edgar Wallace - Страница 5

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ROOM NO. 47 was on the floor above that where the Commissioner’s office was situated. It lay at the end of a long corridor, facing the detective. He carried the tray in one hand and opened the door with the other, walking into a comfortable little bureau.

“Hallo!” he said in surprise. “Am I in the wrong office?”

The girl, who had risen from her desk, was young and extremely pretty. A mass of dull gold hair, dressed low over her broad forehead, gave an added emphasis to clear grey eyes that were regarding him with surprise. She was neat and slim of figure, and when she smiled Larry thought he had hardly ever seen so gracious and pleasant a lady.

“This is Inspector Holt’s office,” she said.

“Good Lord!” said Larry, coming slowly into the room and shutting the door behind him. He went to the other desk and put down the tray, and the girl looked puzzled.

“This is Inspector Holt’s office,” she repeated. “Are those things for him?”

Larry nodded, looking at the girl in wonder.

“What is that?” he asked suddenly, pointing to a glass and a jug on a side table which was covered with a small white cloth.

“Oh, that is for Inspector Holt,” she said.

Larry looked into the jug.

“Milk?” he said in wonder.

“Yes,” said the girl. “Inspector Holt is rather old, you know, and when I asked the Commissioner if he would like something after his journey, the Commissioner suggested invalid’s food and milk; but I can’t make invalid’s food here, and——”

His shriek of merriment stopped her, and she stared at him.

“I am Inspector Holt,” he said, drying his eyes.

“You?” she gasped.

“I’m the lad,” said he complacently. “John, the Commissioner, has played a joke on you, miss—I don’t know your name. Now, would you be good enough to ask the aged Miss Ward to step in?”

A smile twitched her lips.

“I am Miss Ward,” she said, and it was Larry’s turn to stare. Then he put out his hand with a smile.

“Miss Ward,” he said, “we’re companions in misfortune. Each has been equally a victim of a perfidious police commissioner. I’m extremely glad to meet you—and relieved.”

“I’m a little relieved,” laughed the girl as she went to her desk, and Larry, watching every movement, thought she floated rather than walked.

“Sir John said you were sixty and asthmatic, and told me to be careful that no draughts should come into the office. I’ve had a draught excluder specially fitted this afternoon.”

Larry thought a moment.

“Perhaps it’s as well I didn’t go to Monte Carlo,” he said, and sat down at his desk. “Now let us start, shall we?”

She opened her book and took up a pencil, whilst Larry examined the trinkets that lay on the tray.

“Take this down, please,” he said. “Watch made Gildman of Toronto, half-hunter, jewel-balanced; No. A778432. No scratches on the inside.” He opened the case and snapped it again, then tried the stem winder. “Wound less than six hours before death took place.”

She looked up.

“Is this the Stuart case?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Larry. “Do you know anything about it?”

“Only what the Commissioner’s told me,” she replied. “Poor man! But I’m getting so used to horrors now that I’m almost hardened. I suppose one feels that way if one’s a medical student. I was a nurse for two years in a blind asylum,” she added, “and that helps to toughen you, doesn’t it?” She smiled.

“I suppose it does,” said Larry thoughtfully, and wondered how young she had been when she started to work for her living. He put her at twenty-one and thought that was a fairly generous estimate of her age. “Do you like this work?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I love it,” she said. “Sir John says that one of these days he’s going to make me a——” She hesitated for a word.

“A sleuth? Don’t say you’re going to be a sleuth,” begged Larry. “I thought we had this business to ourselves. Female competition to-day——”

She shook her head.

“You’re neglecting your work, Mr. Holt,” she said. “I’ve got as far as the watch.”

He chuckled a little and resumed his inspection.

“Chain made of platinum and gold, length twelve inches, swivel at end, and container of a gold pencil—at least, I presume it was gold,” he dictated. “The pencil wasn’t found?”

“No,” she said. “I particularly asked the sergeant who brought the goods whether the pencil had been found.”

Larry looked at her in surprise.

“Did you notice that?”

“Oh yes, I noticed that too,” said Marjorie calmly. “The knife has gone too.”

He looked across at her in genuine amazement.

“What knife?” he asked.

“I guessed it was a knife,” said she. “The swivel is too large to be attached to a pencil only. If you look you will see a little ring—it has probably got entangled with the ring holding the pencil. It was broken when it came in, but I pressed it together. It looked as if somebody had wrenched it off. I guessed the knife,” she said, “because men so often carry a little gold penknife there.”

“Or a cigar-cutter?” suggested Larry.

“I thought of that,” she said, nodding, “but they’d hardly have taken the trouble to nip off a cigar-cutter.”

“They?” he asked.

“Whoever killed Stuart,” she said quietly, “would have removed all weapons from his possession.”

He looked at the chain again and saw the other ring, and wondered why he had not noticed it before.

“I think you’re right,” he said after a further examination. “The ring is much larger—it had slid up the chain, by the way—and there are distinct scratches where the knife was wrenched off. Hm!” He put down the object on the table, and looked at his own watch. “Have you seen the rest of the things?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“I’ve only examined the watch.”

He looked around for some receptacle, and saw a cupboard in the wall.

“Is this empty?” he asked, and she nodded. “Then we’ll leave the examination of these until I come back. I have to see somebody.”

He slipped the tray into the closet and locked the door, handing the key to the girl. He was half-way to the door when he remembered.

“You won’t be here when I come back? I suppose you have some sort of office hours?”

“I make it a practice never to stay after two o’clock in the morning,” she said gravely.

She met the frank admiration in his eyes without embarrassment.

“I don’t think I have ever met a girl like you,” he said slowly, and as though he were speaking his thoughts aloud.

She flushed and dropped her gaze. Then she laughed and looked at him again, and he thought that her eyes were like stars.

“It may be that we have never met anybody like each other,” she said.

And Larry Holt left Scotland Yard, conscious that a new and a very potent interest had come into his life.