2022-02-08 19:41:37even they had no knowledge of the amazing transformation that had been effected in their own property. the place was no longer an office with a tiny annexe. it was a Network of shinning wires and little polished dials set row on row all round the walls. Dain himself had carried up the various fittings an inconceivable number of journeys , and had assemble them with a patience that was as precise and unflagging as the skill employed in their making.
And the thing had grown on him. only Dain himself knew how tremendously this hobby of his had become his dominating master. imperceptibly at first, but with a dreadful surety it had come to be the be-all and end-all of his existence. Very slowly his old haunts ceased to know him. his own home out at Hendon became little more to him than an occasional bedroom. Dain was a sporadic lodger in his own house. Equally slowly he became more and more Mr. Landring Dent, of the top floor offices in kingsway.
That was Valmon Dain, the man , the strange contradiction of power and subtlety of notoriety and anonymity of public fame and complete mystery who sped in his high powered car sheer across the teeming city to post a letter card to Scotland Yard--- a letter-carded. moreover, which was printed and not written, blocked up in tiny perpendicular capitals which completely disguised his handwriting an which for some definite reason known only to himself, contained his own right thumb print pressed firmly into the sealing wax.
He drove along till he got into the mazy heart of the Streets that clutter the East end. Round by the Aldgate pump he went and pulled up finally at a garage in the Mile end Road.
"petrol, sir?" asked the blue -jean mechanic.
"please. two gallons."
It was indicative of the man that instead of asking for a can, he asked for the exact liquid measurement he required.
Though petrol was the ostensible reason for his pulling up at that particular garage, his real reason was that there was a pillar-box immediately in front of it.
He took out his wallet to pay the mechanic, he game him a pound note and while the mechanic went inside to get his change, he nonchalantly dropped the letter-carded into the gaping maw of the Scarlet box.
And that, as he subsequently realized, was the fatal action of his life. the simple little gesture that was to lead finally and without halt or hindrance to his undoing. it was a gauntlet thrown with the indifference bred of long immunity at the face of fate. the thirty-fourth gauntlet he had flung at her unoffending Majesty, and that was the particular gauntlet which fate decided had overstepped the bounds of all propriety. unseen and quite unnoticed fate stopped down, picked it up and flicked it back neayly in his teeth.
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Landring Dent
Lazard deftly charged the weapon with three small needles, which he took from a little gold ornament on his watch-fob. The needles were extremely thin, and about three-quarters of an inch long. They were wet when he lifted them from the little trinket, and he exercised scrupulous care in the way he handled them. He did not touch them with his fingers, but fed them into the tube with a pair of tweezers. Then he fitted a rubber shield over the trigger and slipped it back into his pocket. The cab was already half-way up Kingsway. He carefully wiped the gold trinket on a piece of cotton-wool, and burned the wool on the floor of the cab. It burned with a bright blue flame that flared up instantly, burned fiercely for a second, and as quickly died. He tapped the window, and the cab pulled in to the kerb. "I don't exactly know where Denburh House is, sir," said the driver apologetically. "All right; you've passed it. I'll walk back," said the Count, and paid him off
Delbury's voice
Dain rested for a few minutes from the pressing grip of his headphones, and then plugged in on a combination he knew by heart. He had got the pitch in on a combination he knew by heart. He had got the pitch of his instrument so perfectly attuned to that particular room that he got a first-class result without further experiment. In a moment there were voices in his headphones-three of them, talking rapidly. He recognized them all. They were Delbury, Shaughnessy, and the Chief. Dain pulled a notebook over and took a verbatim note of all that he required. "I'm asking for a warrant right now, chief." The voice was Delbury's vibrant with conviction. "You're satisfied about Dain?" "Absolutely. I wasn't at first, but I am now. I'm certain that as soon as we've arrested Dain we shall begin to get a start on the solution to the mystery of the Ghost. It's all wrapped up in this plain as a
A man like Valmon Dain is too hot for me.
The only break in the chain of silence was when, in a few seconds, the clear treble of the telephone girl's voice came on at the exchange with her businesslike "Number please?" Lazard pulled the instrument nearer to him. "This is the Count Lazard speaking," he said suavely. "I'm sorry to trouble you, miss, but I think there must be something wrong with my telephone. Has anyone been trying to ring me up?" "I couldn't remember offhand, sir, but I don't think so," replied the girl politely. "Nobody has called me and failed to get through?" "No, sir; not during the last hour, at least." "Just one more question, miss. Could you tell me if there is a crossed wire on your switchboard-one which throws a connection across to my line from another exchange?" "Just a moment, s
Count Lazard
Dain tried a new series. At his tenth attempt he fell headlong into it. His hands were as near to trembling with excitement as ever they had been in his life as he reached out for his headphones. There was not the faintest doubt about the identity of that wheezy guttural voice. It was Tansy's. And he was talking half-earnestly, half-awakely, to another voice, a voice which was remarkable for its cold, inscrutable imperturbability. Dain glanced up at his dails to see into whose house the connection was made. He gasped with unbelief, and then came the realization that he knew that quiet voice, that voice with it's timbre of utter aloofness from emotion or excitement. It had a personality of it's own. It seemed to give out the impression that nothing could shake its serene imperturbability. If all London collapsed in the night, if the stars burst or the heavens fell, that voice would be heard discussing the matter with the cold detachment of an histori
Dain's single weakness
Valmon Dain waited until the sound of Delbury's voice ceased in the study. All that came to him after that was the sound of quiet weeping, heart broken sobs that came gently over the whispering wires. And he knew that Delbury had gone. He glanced at his watch. "Time for a morsel of lunch," he muttered. "Delbury will be twenty minutes at the very least before he gets back to the Yard-probably half an hour before he's through to the chief." He opened a glass of tongue and ate with his headphones still on. He had fixed up a little electric-cooker in a corner above one of the purring dynamos, not a very elaborate contraption but quite sufficient for the simple needs of a man who was condemning himself to solitary companionship for the next few weeks. He made a mental note to take out a suitcase with him and lay in a safe supply of provisions. The ante-room outside he was already rearrangi
The Cryptic message for Williard Lyall
Mercia turned the scale in their own favour by substantiating her mother's declaration. "Surely you have told us horrors enough to know that we shouldn't be squeamish about hearing the rest?" she said bravely. "That a mystery exists and a very sinister one is obvious to even the meanest intelligence. If you won't tell us, Mr. Delbury, you leave us no other alternative than to make personal application to Scotland Yard itself, a recourse which would be extremely unpleasant for me to take, but one which I should not have the slightest hesitation in doing." "Delbury sighed and brushed his fingers through his hair."Very well, ladies," he said, in a tone of regretful resignation. "But whatever I tell you, I insist, is told you with the underlying proviso that it may not be true."Mrs. Lyall inclined her head the merest fraction."perhaps you could help me in the matter," said Delbury, running swiftly over his notes. "can you remember with
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