 Chapter 8 of The Clue of the Twisted Candle by Edgar Wallace Two years after the events just described, TX journeying up to London from Bath was attracted by a paragraph in the morning post. It told him briefly that Mr Remington Cara, the influential leader of the Greek Colony, had been the guest of honour at a dinner of the Hellenic Society. TX had only seen Cara for a brief space of time following that tragic morning, when he had discovered not only that his best friend had escaped from Dartmoor Prison and disappeared, as it were, from the world at a moment when his pardon had been signed, but that friend's wife had also vanished from the face of the earth. At the same time it might, as even TX admitted, have been the various coincidence that Cara had also cleared out of London to reappear at the end of six months. Any question addressed to him concerning the whereabouts of the two unhappy people was met with a blind expression of ignorance as to their whereabouts. John Lexman was somewhere in the world, hiding, as he believed, from justice, and with him, his wife. TX had no doubt in his mind as to this solution of the puzzle. He had caused to be published the story of the pardon and the circumstances under which that pardon had been secured, and he had, moreover, arranged for an advertisement to be inserted in the principal papers of every European country. It was a mute question amongst the department lawyers as to whether John Lexman was not guilty of a technical and punishable offence for prison breaking, but this possibility did not keep TX awake at night. The circumstances of the escape had been carefully examined. The warden responsible had been discharged from the service and had almost immediately purchased for himself a beer house in Falmouth for a sum which left no doubt in the official mind that he had been the recipient of a heavy bribe. Who had been the guiding spirit in that escape? Mrs. Lexman or Cara? It was impossible to connect Cara with the event. The motor-car had been traced to Exeter where it had been hired by a foreign-looking gentleman, but the chauffeur, whoever he was, had made good his escape. An inspection of Cara's hangers at Wembley showed that his two monoplanes had not been removed and TX failed entirely to trace the owner of the machine he had seen flying over Dartmoor on the fatal morning. TX was somewhat baffled and a little amused by the disinclination of the authorities to believe that the escape had been affected by this method at all. All the advance of the trial came back to him as he watched the landscape spinning past. He sat down the newspaper Little Psy, put his feet on the cushions of the opposite seat and gave himself up to Reverie. Presently he returned to his journals and searched them idly for something to interest him in the final stretch of journey between Newbury and Paddington. He found it in a two-column article with the uninspiring title, The Mineral Wealth of Tierra del Fuego. It was written brightly with a style which was at once easy and informative. It told of adventures in the marshes behind St. Sebastian Bay and journeys up the Guares-Selman River, of nights spent in primeval forests and ended in a geological survey wherein the commercial value of cyanide, porphyry, trachite and dilite were severally tan-vest. The article was signed GG. It is said of TX that his greatest virtue was his curiosity. He had at the tip of his fingers the names of all the big explorers and authors of travellers and for some reason he could not place GG to his satisfaction. In fact he had an absurd desire to interpret the initials into George Grosssmith. His inability to identify the writer irritated him and his first act on reaching his office was to telephone to one of the literary editors of the Times whom he knew. Not my department was the chilly reply and besides we never gave away the names of our contributors. Speaking as a person outside the office I should say that GG was George Gadokul, the explorer you know, the fellow who had an arm chewed off by a lion or something. George Gadokul repeated TX, what an ass I am. Yes, said the voice at the other end of the wire and he had rung off before TX could think of something suitable to say. Having elucidated this little sideline of mystery the matter passed from the young commissioner's mind. It happened that morning that his work consisted of dealing with John Lexman's estate. With the disappearance of the couple he had taken over control of their belongings. He had not embarrassed them to discover that he was an executor under Lexman's will for he had already acted as trustee to the wise small estate and had been one of the parties to the anti-nuptial contract which John Lexman had made before his marriage. The estate revenues had increased very considerably. All the vanished authors books were selling as they had never sold before and the executor's work was made the heavier by the fact that Grace Lexman had possessed an aunt who had most inconsiderately died leaving a considerable fortune to her unhappy niece. I will keep the trustee shift another year he told the solicitor who came into consulting that morning. At the end of that time I shall go to the court for relief. Do you think they will ever turn up after solicitor an elderly and unimaginative man? Of course I'll turn up said TX impatiently. All the heroes of Lexman's books turn up sooner or later. He will discover himself to us at a suitable moment and we shall be properly thrilled. That Lexman would return he was sure it was a faith from which he did not swerve. He had as implicit a confidence that one day or rather carer the magnificent would play into his hands. There were some queer stories in circulation concerning the Greek but on the whole they were stories and rumours which were difficult to separate from the malicious gossip which invariably attaches itself to the rich and to the successful. One of these was that carer designed something more than an Albanian chieftainship which he undoubtedly enjoyed. There were whispers of wider and higher ambitions. Though his father had been born a Greek he had in dutifully descended in a direct line from one of those old inflats of Albania who had exercised their brief authority over that turbulent land. The man's passion was for power. To this end he did not spare himself. It was said that he utilised his vast wealth for this reason and none other and that whatever might have been the irregularities of his youth and there were adduced concrete instances. He was working toward an end with a singleness of purpose from which it was difficult to withhold admiration. T. S. kept in his locked desk a little red book, Steelbound and Triple Locked, which he called his Scandalalia. In this he inscribed in his own irregular writing the titbits which might not be published and which often helped an investigator to light upon the missing threads of a problem. In truth he scorned no sort of information and was consciousness in the compilation of this somewhat chaotic record. The affairs of John Lexman recalled Chara and Chara's great reception. Mansas would have made arrangements to secure a verbatim report of the speeches which were made and these would be in his hands by the night. Mansas did not tell him that Chara was financing some very influential people indeed that a certain undersecretary of state with a great number of very influential relations had been saved from bankruptcy by the timely advances which Chara had made. This T. X. had obtained through sources which might be hastily described as discreditable. Mansas knew of the Baccarat Establishment in Albemarle Street, but he did not know that the neurotic wife of a very great man indeed, no less than the Minister of Justice, was a frequent visitor to that establishment and that she had lost in one night some six thousand pounds. In these circumstances it was remarkable, thought T. X, that she should report to the police so small a matter as the petty pilfering of servants. This however she had done and whilst the lesser officers of Scotland Yard were interrogating pawnbrokers the men higher up were genuinely worried by the lady's own lapses from Grace. It was all sordid but unfortunately conventional because highly placed people will always do underbred things where money or women are concerned. But it was necessary for the proper conduct of the department which T. X directed that however sordid and however conventional might be the errors which the great ones of the earth committed they should be filed for reference. The motto which T. X went upon in life was, you never know. The Minister of Justice was a very important person for he was a personal friend of half the monarchs of Europe, a poor man with two or three thousand a year of his own with no very definite political views and uncommitted to the more violent policies of either party he succeeded in serving both with profit to himself and without earning the obliquy of either. Though he did not pursue the blatant policy of the vicar of Bray yet it is fact which may be confirmed from the reader's own knowledge that he served in four different administrations drawing the pay and emoluments of his office from each though the fundamental policies of those four governments were distinct. Lady Bartholomew the wife of this deductible minister had recently departed for San Remo. The newspapers announced the fact and spoke vaguely of a breakdown which prevented the lady from fulfilling her social engagement. T. X ever a doubting Thomas could trace no visit of nerve specialist nor yet of the family practitioner to the official residents in Downing Street and therefore he drew conclusions in his own who's who T. X noted the hobbies of his victims which by the way did not always coincide with the recent occupation set against their names in the more pretentious volume. Their follies and their weaknesses found a place and were recorded at a length as it might seem to the uninformed observer beyond the limit which charity allowed. Lady Mary Bartholomew's name appeared not once but many times in the erratic records which T. X kept. There was a plain matter of fact and wholly unobjectionable statement that she was born in 1874, that she was the seventh daughter of the Earl of Balmory and that she had one daughter who rejoiced in a somewhat unpromising name of Belinda Mary and such further information as a man might get without going to a great deal of trouble. T. X refreshed his memory from the little red book wondered what unexpected tragedy had sent Lady Bartholomew out of London in the middle of the season. The information was that the lady was fairly well off at this moment and this fact made matters all the more puzzling and almost inducing to believe that after all the story was true and a nervous breakdown really was the cause of her sudden departure. He sent for Mansus. You saw Lady Bartholomew off at Charing Cross I suppose. Mansus nodded. She went alone. She took her maid but otherwise she was alone. I thought she looked ill. She has been looking ill for months past said T. X without any visible expression of sympathy. Did she take Belinda Mary? Mansus was puzzled. Belinda Mary, he repeated slowly. Oh, you mean the daughter, no. She's at a school somewhere in France. T. X whistled a snatch of a popular song, closed the little red book with a snap and replaced it in his desk. I wonder where on earth people dig up names like Belinda Mary, he mused. Belinda Mary must be rather a weird little animal. The Lord forgive me for speaking so about my betters. If her registry counts for anything, she ought to be something between a head waiter and a pack of cards. Have you lost anything? Mansus was searching his pockets. I made a few notes from questions I wanted to ask you about and Lady Bartholomew was the subject of one of them. I have had it under observation for six months. Do you want it kept up? T. X thought a while then shook his head. I'm only interested in Lady Bartholomew in so far as Cara is interested in her. There is a chronal for you, my friend, he added admiringly. Mansus busily engaging going through the bundles of letters, slips of papers and little notebooks he had taken from his pockets, sniffed audibly. Have you a cold? asked T. X politely. No, sir, was the reply. Only I haven't much opinion of Cara as a criminal. Besides, what has he got to be a criminal about? He has all that he requires in the money department. He's one of the most popular people in London and certainly one of the best-looking men I've ever seen in my life. He needs nothing. T. X regarded him scornfully. You're a poor, blind brute, he said, shaking his head. Don't you know that great criminals are never influenced by material desires or by the prospect of concrete gains? The man who robs his employers till in order to give the girl of his heart the twenty-five pearl and ruby brooch has sold desires, gains nothing but the glow of satisfaction which comes to the man who is thought well of. The majority of crimes in the world are committed by people for the same reason. They want to be thought well of. Here is T. X who murdered his wife because she was a drunkard and a slut and he dared not leave her for fear the neighbours would have doubts as to his respectability. Here is another gentleman who murders his wives in their vows in order that he should keep up some sort of position and earn the respect of his friends and his associates. He is more quickly to a frenzy of passion than the suggestion that he was not respectable. Here is the great financier who was embezzled a million and a quarter not because he needed money but because people looked up to him. Therefore he must build great mansions, submarine pleasure courts and must lay out huge estates because he wished that he should be thought well of. Man says sniffed again. What about the man who half murders his wife? Does he do that to be well thought of? He asked with a tinge of sarcasm. T. X looks at him pityingly. The low-brow who beats his wife my poor man says he said does so because she doesn't think well of him. That is our ruling passion our national characteristic the primary cause of most crimes big or little. That is why Cara is a bad criminal and will, as I say, end his life very violently. He took down his glossy silk hat from the peg and slipped into his overcoat. I am going down to see my friend Cara, he said. I have a feeling that I should like to talk with him. He might tell me something. His acquaintance with Cara's menage had been mere hearsay. He had interviewed the Greek once after his return but since all his efforts to secure information concerning the whereabouts of John Lexman and his wife the main reason for his visit had been in vain he had not repeated his visit. The house in Cadogan Square was a large one occupying a corner site. It was peculiarly English in appearance with its window boxes, its discreet curtains, its polished brass and enameled doorway. It had been the townhouse of Lord Henry Gratham that eccentric connoisseur of wine and follower of Whitler's pleasure. It had been built by him round a bottle of port as his friend said, meaning thereby that his first consideration had been the cellarage of the house and that when these cellars had been built and provision made for the safe storage of his priceless wines the house had been built without the architects and greatly troubled by his lordship. The double cellars of Gratham House had, in their time, been one of the sites of London. When Henry Gratham lay under eight feet of Congo earth he was killed by an elephant whilst on a hunting trip his executors had been singularly fortunate in finding an immediate purchaser. Rumour had it that Cara, who was no lover of wine had bricked up the cellars and their very existence passed into domestic legendary. The door was opened by a well-dressed and deferential manservant and T. X was ushered into the hall a fire burnt cheerily in a bronze grate and T. X had a glimpse of a big oil painting of Cara above the marble mantelpiece. Mr. Cara is very busy, sir, said the man. Just taking my card, said T. X, I think he may care to see me. The man bowed, produced from some mysterious corner as silver solver, and glided upstairs in that manner which well-trained servants have a manner which seems to call for no bodily effort. In a minute he returned. When you come this way, sir, he said, and led the way up a broad flight of stairs. At the head of the stairs was a corridor which ran to the left and to the right. From this there gave four rooms, one at the extreme end of the passage on the right, one on the left, and two at fairly regular intervals in the centre. When the man's hand was on one of the doors, T. X asked quietly, I think I have seen you before somewhere, my friend. The man smiled. It is very possible, sir. I was a waiter at the constitutional for some time. T. X nodded. That is where it must have been, he said. The man opened the door and announced the visitor. T. X found himself in a large room very handsomely furnished, but just lacking that sense of cosiness and comfort which is the feature of the Englishman's home. Cara rose from behind a big writing-table and came with a smile and a quick step to greet the visitor. This is at most unexpected pleasure, he said, and shook hands warmly. T. X had not seen him for a year and found very little change in this strange young man. He could not be more confident than he had been nor bear himself with a more graceful carriage. Whatever social success he had achieved it had not spoiled him, for his manner was as genuine and easy as ever. I think that would do, Miss Holland, he said, turning to the girl with notebook in hand stood by the desk. Evidently thought T. X, our Hellenic friend has a pretty taste in secretaries. In that one glance he took her all in from the bronze brown of her hair to her neat foot. T. X was not readily attracted by members of the opposite sex. He was self-confessed a predestined bachelor finding life and its incidence too absorbing to give his whole mind to the serious problem of marriage or to contract responsibilities and interests which might divert his attention from what he believed was the greater game. Yet he must be a man of stone to resist the freshness, the beauty and the youth of this straight slender girl, the pink and whiteness of her, the aliveness and buoyancy and the thrilling sense of vitality she carried in her very presence. What is the weirdest name you've ever heard? asked Cara, laughingly. I ask you because Miss Holland and I have been discussing a begging letter addressed to us by a Maggie Goomer. The girl smiled slightly and in that smile was Paradise thought T. X. The weirdest name, he repeated, why I think the worst I have heard for a long time is Belinda Mary. That has a familiar ring, said Cara. T. X was looking at the girl. She was staring at him with a certain languid insolence which made him curl up inside. Then with a glance at her employer she swept from the room. I ought to have introduced you, said Cara. That was my secretary, Miss Holland. Rather a pretty girl, isn't she? Very said T. X, recovering his breath. I like pretty things around me, said Cara, and somehow the complacency of the remark annoyed the detective more than anything that Cara had ever said to him. The greet went to the mantelpiece and taking down a silver cigarette box opened and offered it to his visitor. Cara was wearing a grey lounge suit and although grey is a very trying colour for a foreigner to wear, this suit fitted his splendid figure and gave him just that bulk which he needed. You are a most suspicious man, Mr. Meredith, he smiled. Suspicious? I asked the innocent T. X. Cara nodded. I assure you want to inquire into the character of all my present staff. I am perfectly satisfied that you will never be at rest until you learn the antecedents of my cook, my valet, my secretary. T. X held up his hand with a laugh. Spare me, he said. It is one of my failings, I admit, but I have never gone much farther into your domestic affairs than to pry into the antecedents of your very interesting chauffeur. A little cloud passed over Cara's face, but it was only momentary. Oh, brown, he said, eerily, with just the perceptible pause between the two words. It used to be Smith, said T. X, but no matter, his name is really Poropulas. Oh, Poropulas, said Cara gravely. I dismissed him a long time ago. Pensioned higher, too, I understand, said T. X. The other looked at him a while, then, I am very good to my old servants, he said slowly, and changing the subject to what good fortune do I owe this visit? T. X selected a cigarette before he replied. I thought you might be of some service to me, he said, apparently giving his whole attention to the cigarette. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, said Cara, a little eagerly. I am afraid you have not been very keen on continuing what I hope would have ripened into a valuable friendship, more valuable to me perhaps, he smiled, than to you. I am a very shy man, said the shameless T. X, difficult to afford and rather apt to underrate my social attraction. I have come to you now because you know everybody. By the way, how long have you had your secretary, he asked abruptly. Cara looked up at the ceiling for inspiration. For no three months, he corrected, a very efficient young lady who came to me from one of the training establishments, somewhat uncommunicative, better educated than most girls in her position. For example, she speaks and writes modern Greek fairly well. A treasure, suggested T. X. Unusually so, said Cara, she lives in Marlborough Road, 86A, is the address. She has no friends, spends most of her evenings in her room, is eminently respectable and a little chilling in her attitude to her employer. T. X shot a swift glance at the other. Why do you tell me always, he asked? To save you the trouble of finding out, replied the other coolly, that insatiable curiosity, which is one of the equipment of your profession, would, I feel, sure, induce you to conduct investigations for your own satisfaction. T. X laughed. Man, sit down, he said. The other wheeled an armchair across the room and T. X sank into it. He leant back and crossed his legs and was, in a second, the personification of ease. I think you are a very clever man, Mr. Cara, he said. The other looked down at him this time without amusement. Not so clever that I can discover the object to your visit, he said pleasantly enough. It is very simply explained, said T. X. You know everybody in town. You know, amongst other people, Lady Bartholomew. I know the lady very well indeed, said Cara, readily. You readily, in fact, for the rapidity with which the answer had followed question, suggested to T. X that Cara had anticipated the reason for the call. Have you any idea, asked T. X, speaking with deliberation, as to why Lady Bartholomew has gone out of town at this particular moment? Cara laughed. What an extraordinary question to ask me, as though Lady Bartholomew confided her plans to one who is little more than a chance acquaintance. And yet, said T. X, contemplating the burning end of his cigarette, you know her well enough to hold her promissory note. Promissory note, asked the other. His tone was one of involuntary surprise, and T. X swore softly to himself for now he saw the faintest shade of relief in Cara's face. The commissioner realised that he had committed an error. He had been far too definite. When I say promissory note, he went on easily, as though he had noticed nothing. I mean, of course, the securities which the debtor invariably gives to one from whom he or she has borrowed large sums of money. Cara made no answer, but opening a drawer of his desk, he took out a key and brought it across to where T. X was sitting. Here is the key of my safe, he said quietly. You are at liberty to go carefully through its contents and discover for yourself any promissory note which I hold from Lady Bartholomew. My dear fellow, you don't imagine I am a moneylender, do you? He said in a ninja tone. Nothing was further from my thought, said T. X, untruthfully. But the other pressed the key upon him. I should be awfully glad if you would look for yourself, he said earnestly. I feel that in some way you associate Lady Bartholomew's illness with some horrible act of usury on my part. Will you satisfy yourself, and in doing so, satisfy me? Now any ordinary man and possibly any ordinary detective would have made the conventional answer. He would have protested that he had no intention of doing anything of the sort. He would have uttered, if he were a man in the position which T. X occupied, the conventional statement that he had no authority to search the private papers and that he was certainly not availing himself of the other's kindness. But T. X was not an ordinary person. He took the key and balanced it lightly in the palm of his hand. Is this the key of the famous bedroom safe? He said banteringly. Kara was looking down at him with a quizzical smile. It isn't the safe you opened in my absence on one memorable occasion, Mr. Meredith, he said. As you probably know, I have changed that safe, but perhaps you don't feel equal to the task. On the contrary, said T. X calmly, and rising from the chair, I'm going to put your good faith to the test. For answer, Kara walked to the door and opened it. Let me show you the way, he said politely. He parted on the corridor and entered the apartment at the end. The room was a large one and lighted by one big square window which was protected by steel bars. In the grate which was broad and high, a huge fire was burning and the temperature of the room was unpleasantly close, despite the coldness of the day. That is one of the eccentricities which you, as an Englishman, will never excuse in me, said Kara. Near the foot of the bed, let into and flush with the wall, was a big green door of the safe. Here you are, Mr. Meredith, said Kara. All the precious secrets of Remington, Kara, are yours for the seeking. I am afraid I have had my trouble for nothing, said T. X, making no attempt to use the key. That is an opinion which I share, said Kara with a smile. Cheerously enough, said T. X, I mean just what you mean. He handed the key to Kara. Won't you open it, asked the Greek. T. X shook his head. The safe, as far as I can see, is a Magnus. The key which you have been kind enough to give me is legibly inscribed upon the handle, Chubb. My experience as a police officer has taught me that Chubb keys very rarely open Magnus safe. Kara uttered an exclamation of annoyance. How stupid of me, he said, yet now I remember. I sent the key to my bankers before I went out of town. I only came back this morning, you know. I was sent for it at once. Pray don't trouble, murmured T. X, politely. He talked from his pocket a little flat leather case and opened it. It contained a number of steel implements of curious shape which were held in position by a leather loop along the centre of the case. From one of these loops he extracted a handle and definitely fitted something that looked like a steel awl to the socket in the handle. Looking in wonder and with no little apprehension Kara saw that the awl was bent at the head. What are you going to do, he asked, a little alarmed. I'll show you, said T. X pleasantly. Very gingerly he inserted the instrument in the small keyhole and turned it cautiously first one way and then the other. There was a sharp click followed by another. He turned the handle and the door of the safe swung open. Simple, isn't it, he asked politely. In that second of time Kara's face had done to go on a transformation. The eyes which met T. X Meridith's blaze was an almost insane fury. With a quick stride Kara placed himself before the open safe. I think this has gone far enough, Mr. Meridith, he said harshly. If you wish to search my safe you must get a warrant. T. X shrugged his shoulders and carefully unscrewing the instrument he had employed and replacing it in the case he returned it to his inside pocket. It was at your invitation my dear Mr. Kara, he said swively. Of course I knew that you were putting a bluff up on me with the key and that you had no more intention of letting me see the inside of your safe than you had of telling me exactly what happened to John Lexman. The shot went home. The face that was thrust into the commissioners was rigid and vain with passion. The lips were turned back to show the big white even teeth. The eyes were narrowed to slits. The jaw thrust out and almost every semblance of humanity had vanished from his face. He hissed and his clawing hands moved suspiciously backward. Put up your hand said T. X Sharpney and be damned quick about it. In a flash the hands went up for the revolver which T. X held was pressed uncomfortably against the third button of the Greek's waistcoat. That's not the first time you've been asked to put up your hands I think said T. X Pleasantly. His own left hand slipped round to Kara's hip pocket. He found something in the shape of a cylinder and drew it out from the pocket. To his surprise it was not a revolver and not even a knife. It looked like a small electric torch. But instead of a bulb and a bullseye glass there was a pepper box perforation at one end. He handled it carefully. I was about to press the small nickel knob when a strangled cry of horror broke from Kara. For God's sake be careful, he gasped. You're pointing it at me. Don't press that lever. I beg. Will it explode? asked T. X Curiously. No, no. T. X pointed the thing downward to the carpet and pressed the knob cautiously. As he did so there was a sharp hiss and the floor was stained with the liquid which the instrument contained. Just one gush of fluid and no more. T. X looked down. The bright carpet had already changed colour and was smoking. The room was filled with a pungent and disagreeable scent. T. X looked from the floor to the white-faced man. Vitriol, I believe, he said shaking his head admiringly. What a dear little fellow you are. The man, big as he was, was on the point of collapse and mumbled something about self-defense and listened without a word whilst T. X, labouring under an emotion which was perfectly pardonable, described Kara, his ancestors and the possibilities of his future estate. Very slowly the Greek recovered his self-possession. I didn't intend using it on you. I swear I didn't, he pleaded. I'm surrounded by enemies, Meredith. I had to carry some means of protection is because my enemies know I carry this that they fight shy of me. I swear I had no intention of using it on you. The idea is too preposterous. I am sorry I fooled you about the safe. Don't let that worry you, said T. X. I am afraid I did all the fooling. No, I cannot let you have this back again, he said, as the Greek put out his hand to take the infernal little instrument. I must take this back to Scotland Yard. It's quite a long time since we had anything new in this shape. Compressed air, I presume. Kara nodded solemnly. Very ingenious indeed, said T. X. If I had a brain like yours, he paused, I should do something with it, with a gun, he added, as he passed out of the room. End of Chapter 8 Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 9 of The Clue of the Twisted Candle by Edgar Wallace This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Peter Tomlinson My dear Mr. Meredith, I cannot tell you how unhappy and humiliated I feel that my little joke with you should have had such an uncomfortable ending. As you know, and as I have given you proof, I have the greatest admiration in the world for one whose work for humanity has won such universal recognition. I hope that we shall both forget this unhappy morning and that you will give me an opportunity of rendering to you, in person, the apologies which are due to you. I feel that anything less will neither rehabilitate me in your esteem, nor secure for me the remnants of my shattered self-respect. I'm hoping you will die with me next week and meet the most interesting man, George Gadokol, who has just returned from Patagonia. I only received his letter this morning, having made most remarkable discoveries concerning that country. I feel sure that you are large enough minded and too much a man of the world to allow my foolish fit of temper to disturb a relationship which I have always hoped would be mutually pleasant. If you will allow Gadokol, who will be unconscious of the part he is playing to act as peacemaker between yourself and myself, I shall feel that his trip, which has cost me a large sum of money, will not have been wasted. I am, dear Mr. Meredith, yours very sincerely, Remington Cara. Cara folded the letter and inserted it into its envelope. He rang a bell on his table and the girl who had so filled TX with a sense of awe came from an adjoining room. You will see that this is delivered, Miss Holland. She inclined her head and stood waiting. Cara rose from his desk and began to pace the room. Do you know TX Meredith? He asked suddenly. I have heard of him, said the girl. A man with a single mind, said Cara, a man against whom my favourite weapon would fail. She looked at him with interest in her eyes. What is your favourite weapon, Mr. Cara? She asked. Fear, he said. If he expected as to give him any encouragement to proceed, he was disappointed. Probably he required no such encouragement, for in the presence of his social inferiors he was somewhat monopolising. Cuss a man's flesh and it heals, he said. With a man and the memory of it passes, frighten him, fill him with a sense of forevoting and apprehension, and let him believe that something dreadful is going to happen either to himself or to someone he loves. Better the latter, and you will hurt him beyond forgetfulness. Fear is a tyrant and a despot, more terrible than the rack, more potent than the stake. Fear is many-eyed and sees horrors where normal vision only sees the ridiculous. Is that your creed? she asked quietly. Part of it, Miss Holland, he smiled. She played idly with the letter she held in her hand, balancing it on the edge of the desk, her eyes downcast. What would justify the use of such an awful weapon, she asked. It is amply justified to secure an end, he said blandly. For example, I want something. I cannot obtain that something through the ordinary channel or by the employment of ordinary means. It is essential to me, to my happiness, to my comfort or my armor-prop that something shall be possessed by me. If I can buy it well and good, if I can buy those who can use their influence to secure this thing for me, so much the better. If I can obtain it by any merit I possess, I utilize that merit, providing always that I can secure my object in the time. Otherwise he shrugged his shoulders. I see, she said, nodding her head quickly. I suppose that is how blackmailers feel. He frowned. That is a word I never use, nor do I like to hear it employed, he said. Blackmail suggests to me a vulgar attempt to obtain money, which is generally very badly wanted by the people who use it, said the girl, with a little smile, and according to your argument they are also justified. It is a matter of plain, he said eerily, viewed from my standpoint they are sordid criminals, the sort of person that T. X meets, I presume, in the course of his daily work. T. X, he went on somewhat or a cullale, is a man whom I have a great deal of respect. You will probably meet him again, for he will find an opportunity of asking you a few questions about myself. I need hardly tell you. He lifted his shoulders with a deprecating smile. I shall certainly not discuss your business with any person, said the girl, coldly. I am paying you three pounds a week, I think, he said. I intend increasing that to five pounds, because you suit me most admirably. Thank you, said the girl, quietly, but I am already being paid quite sufficient. She left him a little astonished and not a little ruffled. To refuse the favours of Remington Cara was, by him, regarded as something of an affront. Half his quarrel with T. X was that gentleman's curious indifference to the benevolent attitude which Cara had persistently adopted in his dealings with the detective. He rang the bell this time for his valet. Fisher, he said, I am expecting a visit from a gentleman named Gathacol, a one-armed gentleman whom you must look after if he comes. Detain him on some pretext or other, because he is rather difficult to get hold of, and I want to see him. I am going out now, and I shall be back at six-thirty. Do whatever you can to prevent him going away until I return. He will probably be interested if you take him into the library. Very good, sir, said the urbane Fisher. Will you change before you go out? Cara shook his head. I think I will go as I am, he said. Get me my fur coat. This beastly cold kills me. He shivered as he glanced into the big street. Keep my fire going, put all my private letters in my bedroom, and see that Miss Holland has her lunch. Fisher followed him to his car, wrapped the fur rug about his legs, closed the door carefully, and returned to the house. From then onward his behaviour was somewhat extraordinary for a well-read servant. That he should return to Cara's study and set the papers in order was natural and proper. Then he should conduct a rapid examination of all the drawers in Cara's desk, might be excused on the score of diligence, since he was to some extent in the confidence of his employer. Cara was given to making friends of his servants up to a point. In his more generous moments he would address his bodyguard as Fred, and on more occasions than one, and for no apparent reason, had tipped his servant over and above his salary. Mr. Fred Fisher found little to reward him for his search until he came upon Cara's checkbook, which told him that on the previous day the Greek had drawn £6,000 in cash from the bank. Disinterested he mightily and replaced the checkbook with the tightened lips and the fixed glaze of a man who was stinking rapidly. He paid a visit to the library where the secretary was engaged in making copies of Cara's correspondence, answering letters appealing for charitable donations, and in the hack words which fall to the secretaries of the great. He replenished the fire, asked deferentially for any instructions and returned again to his quest. This time he made the bedroom the scene of his investigations. The safety did not attempt to touch, but there was a small bureau in which Cara would have placed his private correspondence of the morning. This, however, yielded no result. By the side of the bed on a small table was a telephone, the site of which apparently afforded the servant a little amusement. This was the private phone which Cara had been instrumental in having fixed to Scotland Yard, as he had explained to his servants. Rum Coe, said Fisher, he paused for a moment before the closed door of the room and smilingly surveyed the great steel latch which spanned the door and fitted into an iron socket securely screwed to the framework. He lifted it gently. There was a little knob for the purpose and let it fall gently into the socket which had been made to receive it on the door itself. Rum Coe, he said again, and lifting the latch of the hook which held it up, left the room closing the door softly behind him, he walked down the corridor with a meditative round, began to descend the stairs to the hall. He was less than half way down when the one mate of Cara's household came up to meet him. There's a gentleman who wants to see Mr. Cara, she said. Here is his card. Fisher took the card from the silver and read Mr. George Gathercoe, Junior Traveller's Club. I'll see this gentleman, he said, with a sudden brisk interest. He found the visitor standing in the hall. He was a man who would have attracted attention if only from the somewhat eccentric nature of his dress and his unkempt appearance. He was dressed in a well-worn overcoat of a somewhat pronounced check. He had a top hat, glossy and obviously new at the back of his head and the lower part of his face was covered by a ragged beard. This he was plucking with nervous jerks, talking to himself for a while and casting a disparaging eye upon the portrait of Remington Cara which hung above the marble fireplace. A pair of pints nested crookedly on his nose and two fat volumes under his arms completed the picture. Fisher, who was an observer of some discernment, noticed under the overcoat a creased blue suit, large black boots and a pair of pearl studs. The newcomer glared round at the valley. Take these, he ordered, peremptilary, pointing to the books under his arm. Fisher hastened to obey and noted with some wonder that the visitor did not attempt to assist him either by loosening his hold of the volumes or raising his hand. Accidentally the valley's hand pressed the other sleeve and he received a shock for the forearm was clearly an artificial one. It was against a wooden surface beneath the sleeve that his knuckles struck and this view of the stranger's infirmity was confirmed when the other reached round with his right hand, took hold of the gloved left hand and thrusted into the pocket of his overcoat. Where is Kara, groundless stranger? He'll be back very shortly, sir, said the urbane Fisher. Out, is he, boomed the visitor, then I shan't wait. What the devil does he mean by being out? He's had three years to be out. Mr. Kara expects you, sir, he told me he would be in at six o'clock at the latest. Six o'clock? He, God, stormed the man impatiently. What dog am I that I should wait till six? He gave a savage little tug at his beard. Six o'clock, eh? You will tell Mr. Kara that I called. Give me those books. But I assure you, sir, Stunman Fisher, give me those books, roared the other. Definitely he lifted his left hand from his pocket, crooked the over by some quick manipulation and thrusted the books, which the valley most reluctantly handed to him, back to the place from whence he had taken them. Tell Mr. Kara I will call at my own time. Do you understand, at my own time? Good morning to you. If you'd only wait, sir, pleaded the agonised Fisher. Wait, be hanged, snarled the other. I've waited three years. I tell you, tell Mr. Kara to expect me when he sees me. He went out and most unnecessarily banged the door behind him. Fisher went back to the library. The girl was sealing up some letters as he entered and looked up. I'm afraid, Miss Holland, I've got myself into very serious trouble. What is that, Fisher, asked the girl? There was a gentleman coming to see Mr. Kara, who Mr. Kara particularly wanted to see. Mr. Gather Cole, said the girl quickly, Fisher nodded. Yes, Miss, I couldn't get him to stay, though. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. Mr. Kara will be very cross, I don't see how you can help it. I wish you'd called me. He never gave me a chance, Miss, said Fisher, with a little smile. But if he comes again, I'll show him straight up to you. She nodded. Is there anything you want, Miss? he asked, as he stood at the door. What time did Mr. Kara say he would be back? At six o'clock, Miss, the man replied. There is rather an important letter here which has to be delivered. Shall I ring up for a messenger? No, I don't think that would be advisable. You'd better take it yourself. Kara was in the habit of employing Fisher as a confidential messenger when the occasion demanded such employment. I will go with pleasure, Miss, he said. It was a heaven-sent opportunity for Fisher who had been inventing some excuse for leaving the house. She had it in the letter and he read without a droop of eyelid. The superscription. T. X. Meredith, the squire. Special Service Department, Scotland Yard, White Hall. He put it carefully in his pocket and went from the room to change. Large as the house was, Kara did not employ regular staff or servants and made in the valley comprised the whole of the indoor staff. His cook and the other domestics, necessary for conducting an establishment of that size, were engaged by the day. Kara had returned from the country earlier than had been anticipated and was safe for Fisher. The only other person in the house beside the girl was the middle-aged domestic who was parlour-made, serving-made and housekeeper in one. Miss Holland sat at her desk to all appearance reading over the letters she had typed that afternoon. But her mind was very far from the correspondence before her. She heard the soft thud of the front door closing and rising she crossed the room rapidly and looked down through the window to the street. She watched Fisher until he was out of sight. He extended to the hall and to the kitchen. It was not the first visit she had made to the big underground room with its vaulted roof and its great ranges, which were seldom used nowadays for Kara gave no dinners. The maid who was also cook arose up as the girl entered. It's a sight for sore eyes to see you in my kitchen, Miss, she smiled. I'm afraid you're rather lonely, Mrs Beale said the girls sympathetically. Lonely, Miss, cried the maid, I fairly get the creep sitting here hour after hour. It's that door that gives me the hump. She pointed to the far end of the kitchen to a sore-looking door of unpainted wood. That's Mr Kara's wine cellar, nobody's been in it but him. I know he goes in sometimes because I try to dodge that my brother, who's a policeman, taught me. I stretched a bit of white cotton across it and it was broke the next morning. Mr Kara keeps some of his private papers in there, said the girl quietly. He has told me so himself. Hmm! said the woman doubtfully. I wish he'd brick it up the same as he has the lower cellar. I get the horrors sitting here at night expecting the door to open and the ghost of the mad lord to come out, him that was killed in Africa. Miss Holland laughed. I want you to go out now, she said. I have no stamps. Mrs Bill obeyed with alacrity and while she was assuming a hat, being desirous of maintaining her prestige as housekeeper in the eyes of Cadigan Square, the girl ascended to the upper floor. Against she watched from the window the disappearing figure. Once out of sight, Miss Holland went to work with a remarkable deliberation and thoroughness. From her bag she produced a small purse and opened it. In that case was a new steel key. She passed swiftly down the corridor to Kara's room and made straight for the safe. In two seconds it was open and she was examining the contents. It was a large safe of the usual type. There were four steel drawers fitted at the back and at the bottom of the strongbox. Two of these were unlocked and contained nothing more interesting than accounts relating to Kara's estate in Albania. The top pair were locked. She was prepared for this contingency and the second key was as a facious as the first. An examination of the first drawer did not produce all that she had expected. She returned the papers to the drawer, pushed it to and locked it. She gave her attention to the second drawer. Her hand shook a little as she pulled it open. It was her last chance, her last hope. There were a number of small jewel boxes almost filling the drawer. She took them out one by one and at the bottom she found what she had been searching for and that which had filled her thoughts for the past three months. It was a square case covered in red Morocco leather. She inserted her shaking hand and took it out with a triumphant little cry. That's the haste, she said aloud. And then her hand grasped her wrist and in a panic she turned to meet the smiling face of Kara. End of Chapter 9 Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 10 of The Clue of the Twisted Candle by Edgar Wallace This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 10 She felt her knees shake under her and thought she was going to swoon. She put out her disengaged hand to steady herself and if the face which was turned to him was pale there was a steadfast resolution in her dark eyes. Let me relieve you of that, Miss Holland," said Kara in his silkyest tones. He wrenched rather than took the box from her hand. Replaced it carefully in the drawer, pushed the drawer to and locked it, examining the key as he withdrew it. Then he closed the safe and locked that. Obviously, he said presently, I must get a new safe. He had not released his hold of her wrist, nor did he until he had led her to go from the room back to the library. Then he released the girl standing between her and the door with folded arms and that cynical, quiet, contemptuous smile of his upon his handsome face. There are many courses which I can adopt," he said slowly. I can send for the police when my servants whom you have dispatched so thoughtfully have returned, or I can take your punishment into my own hands. Far as I am concerned," said the girl coolly, you may send for the police. She led back against the edge of the desk, her hands holding the edge and facing without so much as a quaver. I do not like the police, mused Kara, when there came a knock at the door. Kara turned and opened it and after a low-strain conversation he returned, closing the door and laid a paper of stamps on the girl's table. I do not care for the police, and I prefer my own method. In this particular instance a police obviously would not serve me because you are not afraid of them and in all probability you are in their pay. Am I right in supposing that you are one of Mr. T. X. Meredith's accomplices? I do not know Mr. T. X. Meredith, she replied calmly, and I am not in any way associated with the police. Nevertheless, he persisted, you do not seem to be very scared of them and that removes any temptation I might have to place you in the hands of the law. Let me see. He purses lips as he applied his mind to the problem. She half sat, half stood, watching him without any evidence of apprehension, but with a heart which began to quake a little. For three months she had played her part and the strain had been greater than she had confessed to herself. Now the great moment had come and she had failed. That was a sickening, maddening thing about it all. It was not the fear of arrest or of conviction which brought a stinking to her heart. It was a despair of failure added to a sense of her healthiness against this man. If I had you arrested your name would appear in all the papers of course, he said narrowly, and your photograph would probably adorn the Sunday journals, he added expectantly. She laughed. That does not appeal to me, she said. I'm afraid it doesn't, he replied, and stalled towards her as though to pass her on his way to the window. He was abreast of her when he suddenly swung round and catching her in his arms he caught her close to him. Before she could realize what he planned he had stooped swiftly and kissed her full upon the mouth. If you scream I shall kiss you again, he said, for I sent the maid to buy some more stamps to the general post office. Let me go, she gasped. Now for the first time he saw the terror in her eyes and there surged within him that mad sense of triumph, that intoxication of power which had been associated with the red letter days of his warped life. You're a flayed, he banded her, half whispering the words. You're afraid now, aren't you? If you scream I shall kiss you again, do you hear? For God's sake let me go, she whispered. He felt her shaking in his arms and suddenly he released her with a little laugh and she sank trembling from head to foot upon the chair by her desk. Now you're going to tell me who sent you here, he went on harshly. And why you came? I never suspected you. I thought you were one of those strange creatures one meets in England, a gentle woman who prefers working for her living to the more simple business of getting married. And all the time you were spying, clever, very clever. The girl was sinking rapidly. In five minutes Fisher would return. Somehow she had faith in Fisher's ability and willingness to save her from a situation which she realised was fraught with the greatest danger to herself. She was horribly afraid. She knew this man far better than he suspected, realised the treachery and the unscrupulousness of him. She knew he would stop short of nothing and that he was without honour and without a single attribute of goodness. He must have read her thoughts when he came nearer and stood over here. You need not shrink, my young friend, he's so with a little chuckle. You're going to do just what I want you to do. And your first act will be to accompany me downstairs. Get up. He half lifted, half dragged her to her feet and let her from the room. They descended to the hall together and the girl spoke no word. Perhaps she hoped that she might wrench herself free and make her escape into the street, but in this she was disappointed. The grip about her arm was a grip of steel and she knew safety did not lie in that direction. She pulled back at the head of the stairs that led down to the kitchen. Where are you taking me? she asked. I'm going to put you into safe custody, he said. On the whole I think it is best that the police take this matter in hand and I shall lock you into my wine cellar and go out in search of a policeman. The big wooden door opened revealing a second door and this carer unbolted. She noticed that both doors were seated with steel, the outer on the inside and the inner door on the outside. She had no time to make any further observations for carer thruster into the darkness. He switched on the light. I will not deny you that, he said, pushing her back as she made a frantic attempt to escape. He swung the outer door too as she raised her voice in a piercing scream and clapping his hand over her mouth held her tightly for a moment. I have warned you, he hissed. She saw his face distorted with rage, she saw carer transfigured with devilish anger, saw that handsome almost godlike countenance thrust into hers, flushed and seamed with malignity and a hatefulness beyond understanding and then her senses left her and she sank limp and swooning into his arms. When she recovered consciousness she found herself lying on a plain stretch of bed. She sat up suddenly. Carer had gone and the door was closed. The cellar was dry and clean and its walls were enabled white. Light was supplied by two electric lamps in the ceiling. There was a table and a chair and a small wash-down and air was evidently supplied through unseen ventilators. It was indeed a prison and no less and in her first moments of panic she found herself wondering whether Carer had used this underground dungeon of his before for a similar purpose. She examined the room carefully. At the farthest end was another door and this she pushed gently at first and then vigorously without producing the slightest impression. She still had her bag of smaller fairer black moir which hung from her belt in which was nothing more formidable than a pen knife a small bottle of smelling salts and a pair of scissors. The lattice she had used for cutting out those paragraphs from the Daily Newspapers which referred to Carer's movements. They would make a formidable weapon and wrapping a handkerchief around the handle to give a better grip. She placed it on the table within reach. She was dimly conscious all the time that she had heard something about this wine cellar something which, if she could recollect it would be of service to her. Then in a flash she remembered that there was a lower cellar which according to Mrs. Biel was never used and was bricked up. It was approached from the outside down a circular flight of stairs. There might be a way out from that direction and would there not be some connection between the upper cellar and the lower? She set to work to make a close examination of the apartment. The floor was of concrete covered with a light rush matting. This she carefully rolled up starting at the door. One half of the floor was uncovered without revealing the existence of any trap. She attempted to pull the table into the centre of the room better to roll the matting but found it fixed to the wall and going down on her knees she discovered that it had been fixed after the matting had been laid. Obviously there was no need for the fixture and she tapped the floor with a little knuckle. Her heart started racing. The sound her knocking gave forth she sprang up, took her bag from the table opened the little pen knife and cut carefully through the thin rushes. She might have to replace the matting and it was necessary she should do her work tidily. Soon the hole of the trap was revealed. There was an iron ring which fitted flush with the top on which she pulled. The trap yielded and swung back as though there was a counterbalance at the other end as indeed there was. She peered down. There was a dim light below the reflection of a light in the distance. A flight of steps led down to the lower level and after a second's hesitation she swung her legs over the cavity and began her descent. She was in a cell a slightly smaller than that above her. The light she had seen came from an inner apartment which would be underneath the kitchen of the house. She made her way cautiously along stepping on tiptoe. The first of the room she came to was well furnished. There was a thick carpet on the floor with easy chairs, a little bookcase well filled and a reading lamp. This must be Kara's underground study where he kept his precious papers. A smaller room gave from this and again it was doorless. She looked in and after her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness she saw that it was a bathroom handsomely fitted. The room she was in was also without any light which came from the farthest chamber. As the girls strode softly across the well-carved floor on something hard she stooped and felt along the floor and her fingers encountered a thin steel chain. The girl was bewildered almost panic-stricken. She shrunk back from the entrance of the inner room fearful of what she would see and then from the interior came a sound that made her tingle with horror. It was a sound of a sigh long and trembling. She set her teeth and strode through the doorway and stood for a moment staring with open eyes and mouth at what she saw. My God! she breathed. London in the twentieth century! End of Chapter 10 Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 11 of The Clue of the Twisted Candle by Edgar Wallace Dislivre Fox Recording is in the public domain. Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 11 Superintendent Manson's had a little office in Scotland Yard Proper. Which he complained was not so much a private bureau as a waiting room to which repaired every official of the police service who found time hanging on his hands. On the afternoon of Miss Holland's surprising adventure a plainclothes man of D division brought to Mr Manson's room a very scared domestic servant voluble, tearful and agonizingly penitent. It was a mood not wholly unfamiliar to a police officer of twenty years' experience and Mr Manson's was not impressed. If you were kindly shut up, he said, blending his natural plightness with his employment of the vernacular and if you will also answer a few questions I will save you a lot of trouble. You were Lady Bartholomew's maid, weren't you? Yes, sir, sobbed the red-eyed Mary Anne and you have been detected trying to pawn a gold bracelet the property of Lady Bartholomew. A maid gulped, nodded and started restlessly on a recital of her wrongs. Yes, sir, but she practically gave it to me, sir, and I haven't had my wages for two months, sir, and she can give that foreign the thousands and thousands of pounds at a time, sir, but, oh poor servant, she can't pay. No, she can't. And if Sir William knew, especially about my Lady's cards and about the snuffbox, what would he think? I wonder, and I'm going to have my rights for if she can pay thousands to a swole like Mr Cara, she can pay me and Manson's jerked his head. Take her down to the cells, he said briefly, and they led her away, a wailing woeful figure of amateur Larsonist. In three minutes, Manson's was with TX and had reduced the girl's incoherence to something like order. This is important, said TX, produced the Abigail. They asked the puzzled officer, this skivvy, slavvy, hired help, get busy, said TX impatiently. They brought her to TX in a condition bordering upon collapse. Get her a cup of tea, said the wise chief. Sit down, Mary Ann, and forget all your troubles. Oh, sir, I've never been in this position before she began, as she flopped into the chair they put before her. Then you've had a very tiring time, said TX. Now listen. I've been respectable. Forget it, said TX, wearily. Listen, if you tell me the truth about Lady Bartholomew and the money she paid to Mr Cara, £2,000, two separate thousand, and by all accounts. If you'll tell me the truth, I'll compound a felony and let you go free. It was a long time before he prevailed upon her to clear her speech of the ego which insisted upon intruding. There were gaps in her narrative which he bridged. In the main it was a believable story. Lady Bartholomew had lost money and had furrowed from Cara. She had given her security the snuff box of her husband's father, a doctor, by one of the czars for services rendered and was all blue inamble and gold and foreign words in diamonds. On the question of the amount Lady Bartholomew had borrowed every girl was very vague. All that she knew was that my lady had paid back £2,000 and that she was still very distressed. In a fit was the phrase that girl used because apparently Cara refused to restore the box. There had evidently been terrible scenes in the Bartholomew minage, hysterics and what not. The principal breakdown having occurred when Belinda Mary came home from school in France. Miss Bartholomew was home then. Where is she? asked TX. Here the girl was more vague than ever. She thought the young lady had gone back again. Anyway, Miss Belinda had been very much upset. Miss Belinda had seen Dr Williams and advised that her mother should go away for a change. Miss Belinda seems to be a precocious young person to ask TX. Did she by any chance see Mr Cara? Oh no, explained the girl. Miss Belinda was above that sort of person. Miss Belinda was a lady, if ever there was one. And how old is this interesting young woman asked TX curiously. She is nineteen, said the girl and the commissioner, who had pictured Belinda in short played frocks and long pigtails and had moreover visualised her as a freckled little girl with thin legs and snug nose was abashed. He had delivered a short lecture on the sacred rights of property, paid the girl the three months wages which were due to her. He had no doubt as to the legality of her claim and dismissed her with instructions to go back to the house pack a box and clear out. After the girl had gone TX sat down to consider the position. He might see Cara and since Cara had expressed his contrition and was probably in a more humble state of mind he might make reparation. Then again he might not. Manson was waiting and TX walked back with him to his little office. I hardly know what to make of it he said in despair. If you can give me Cara's motive sir I can give you a solution said Manson. TX shook his head. That is exactly what I am unable to give you he said. He perched himself on Manson's desk and lit a cigar. I have a good mind to go round and see him he said after a while. Why not telephone to him asked Manson. There is his phone straight into his boudoir. He pointed to a small telephone in a corner of the room. Oh he persuaded the commissioner to run the wire did he said TX interested and walked over to the telephone. He fingered the receiver for a little while and was about to take it off but changed his mind. I think not he said I go round and see him tomorrow. I don't hope to succeed in extracting the confidence in the case of Lady Bartholomew which he denied me over poor Lexman. I suppose you'll never give up hope of seeing Mr. Lexman again smiled Manson's busily arranging a new blotting pad. Before TX could answer there came a knock at the door and a uniform policeman entered. He saluted TX they just sent an urgent letter across from your office sir. I said I thought you were here. He handed dismissive to the commissioner. TX took it and glanced at the tight written address. It was marked urgent and by hand. He took up the thin steel paper knife from the desk and slit open envelope. The letter consisted of three or four pages of manuscript and unlike the envelope it was handwritten. My dear TX it began and the handwriting was familiar. Manson's watching the commissioner saw the puzzle frown gather on his superior's forehead, saw the eyebrows arch and the mouth open in astonishment saw him hastily turn to the last page to read the signature and then howling apples gas TX. It's from John Lexman. His hand shook as he turned closely written pages. The letter was dated that afternoon. There was no other address than London. My dear TX it began. I do not doubt that this letter would give you a little shock because most of my friends will have believed that I am gone beyond return. Fortunately or unfortunately that is not so. For myself I could wish but I am not going to make a very gloomy view since I am genuinely pleased at the thought that I shall be meeting you again. To give this letter if it is incoherent but I have only this moment returned and I am writing at the Sharon Cross Hotel. I am not staying here but I will let you have my address later. The crossing has been a very severe one so you must forgive me if my letter sounds a little disjointed. You will be sorry to hear that my dear wife is dead. She died abroad about six months ago. I do not wish to talk very much about it so you will forgive me if I do not tell you any more. The only object in writing to you at the moment is an official one. I suppose I am still amenable to punishment and I have decided to surrender myself to the authorities tonight. You used to have a most excellent assistant in Superintendent Mancess and if it is convenient to you as I hope it will be I will report myself to him at 10.15. At any rate my dear TX I do not wish to mix you up in my affairs and if you will let me do this business through Mancess I shall be very much obliged to you. I know there is no great punishment awaiting me because my pardon was apparently signed on the night before my escape. I shall not have much to tell you because there is not much in the past two years that I would care to recall. We endured a great deal of unhappiness and death was very merciful when it took my beloved from me. Do you ever see Kara in these days? Will you tell Mancess to expect me at between 10.15. And if he will give instruction to the officer on duty in the hall I will come straight up to his room with affectionate regards my dear fellow I am your sincerely John Lexman. TX read the letter over twice and his eyes were troubled. Poor girl he said softly and handed the letter to Mancess he evidently wants to see you because he is afraid of using my friendship to his advantage I shall be here nevertheless what will be the formality asked Mancess there will be no formality said the other briskly I will secure the necessary pardon from the home secretary and in quite a fact I have it already promised in writing he walked back to Whitehall his mind fully occupied with the momentous events of the day it was a raw February evening sleet was falling in the street a piercing easterly wind drove even through his thick overcoat in such doorways as offered protection from the bitter elements the wreckage of humanity which clings to the west end of London as the singed moth flutters about the flame that destroys it were huddled for warps TX was a man of vast human sympathies all his experience with the criminal world all his disappointments all his disillusions had failed to quench the pity for his unfortunate fellows he measures a roar on such nights of these that if by chance returning late to his office he should find such a shivering piece of Jetson sheltering in his own doorway he will give him or her the price of a bed in his own quaint way he derived a certain speculative excitement from this practice if the doorway was empty he regarded himself as a winner if someone stood sheltered in the deep recess which is the feature of the old Georgian houses in this historic thoroughfare he would lose to the extent of a shilling he peered forward through the semi-darkness as he neared the door of his offices I've lost he said and stripped his gloves preparatory to groping in his pocket for a coin somebody was standing in the entrance but it was obviously a very respectable somebody a dumpy motherly somebody in a seal skin coat and a prosperous bonnet hello said TX in surprise are you trying to get in here I want to see Mr. Meredith said the visitor in the mincing affected tones of one who excused the vulgar source of her prosperity by frequently reiterating claims of having seen better days your longing shall be gratified said TX gravely he unlocked the heavy door passed through the uncarpeted passage there are no frills on government offices and led the way up the stairs to the suite on the first floor which constituted his bureau he switched on all the lights and surveyed his visitor a comfortable person of the landlady type a good sort thought TX but somewhat over-weighted with launettes and seal skin you were pardoned by coming to see her at this hour of the night she began deprecatingly but as my dear father used to say hoppy swat que mal new pints your dear father being in the garter business that suggested TX humorously won't you sit down Mrs. Mrs. Cassley being the lady as he seated herself he was in the paper hanging business but needs must when the devil drives as the saying goes what particular devil is driving you Mrs. Cassley as TX somewhat at a loss to understand the object of this visit and maybe doing wrong began the lady percing her lips and two blacks will never make on white and all that glitters is not gold suggested TX a little wearily will you please tell me your business Mrs. Cassley I'm a very hungry man well it's like this sir said Mrs. Cassley dropping her airdition and coming down to bedrock homeliness I've got a young lady stopping with me as respectable a girl as I've had to deal with and I know what respectability is I might tell you for I've taken professional borders and I have been housekeeper to a doctor you are well qualified to speak said TX with a smile and what about this particular young lady of yours by the way what is your address 86A Marlivan Road said the lady TX sat up yes he said quickly what about your young lady she works as far as I can understand said the loquacious landlady with a certain Mr. Cara in the typewriting line she came to me four months ago never mind when she came to you said TX impatiently have your message from the lady well it's like this sir said Mrs. Cassley leaning forward confidentially and speaking in the hollowed home which she had decided should accompany any revelation to a police officer this young lady said to me for don't come home any night by 8 o'clock you must go to TX and tell him she paused dramatically yes yes said TX quickly for heaven's sake go on woman tell him said Mrs. Cassley that Belinda Mary he sprang to his feet Belinda Mary he breathed Belinda Mary in a flash he saw it all this girl with a knowledge of modern greek who was working in Cara's house was there for a purpose Cara had something of her mother and which he would not part with and she had adopted this method of securing that something Mrs. Cassley was prattling on but her voice was merely a haze of sound to him it brought a strange glow to his heart that Belinda Mary should have thought of him only as a policeman of course said the still small voice of his official self perhaps said the human TX defiantly he got on the telephone to Mantis instructions you stay here he ordered you astounded Mrs. Cassley and guys make a few investigations Cara was at home but was in bed TX remembered that this extraordinary man invariably went to bed early and that it was his practice to receive visitors in this guarded room of his he was admitted almost at once and found Cara in his silk dressing-gown lying on the bed smoking the heat of the room was unbearable even on that bleak February night this is the pleasant surprise said Cara sitting up I hope you don't mind my disobeyly TX came straight to the point where is Ms. Holland he asked Ms. Holland Cara's eyebrows appetises astonishment what an extraordinary question to ask me my dear man at her home or at the theatre or in a cinema place I don't know how these people employ their evenings she is not at home said TX and I have reasons to believe that she has not left this house what is this vicious person you are Mr. Meredith Cara rang the bell and Fisher came in with a cup of coffee on a tray Fisher drawled Cara Mr. Meredith his access to know where Ms. Holland is will you be good enough to tell him you know more about her movements than I do as far as I know sir said Fisher deferentially she left the house about 5.30 her usual hour she sent me out a little before 5 on a message and when I came back her hat and her coat had gone she had gone also did you see her go asked TX the man shook his head no sir I very seldom see the lady come or go there has been no restrictions placed upon the young lady and she has been at liberty to move about as she likes I think I am correct in saying that sir he turned to Cara Cara nodded you will probably find her at home he shook his finger wagglessly at TX what a dog you are I ought to keep the beauties of my household veiled as we do in the east and especially when I have a susceptible policeman wandering at large TX gave jest for jest there was nothing to be gained by making trouble here after a few amiable common places he took his departure he found Mrs. Castley being entertained by mansus with a holy fictitious description of the famous criminals he had arrested I can only suggest that you go home said TX so with you to report to me but in all probability you will find the lady has returned she may have had a difficulty getting a bus on a night like this a detective was someone from Scotland Yard and accompanied by him Mrs. Castley returned to her domicile with a certain importance TX looked at his watch it was a quarter to ten whenever happens I must see old Lexman he said tell the best men we've got in the department to stand by for eventualities this is going to be one of my busy days End of Chapter 11 Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 12 of The Clue of the Twisted Candle by Edgar Wallace this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 12 Kara laid back on his downpillows with a sneer on his face and his brain very busy what started the train what started the train I thought he did not know but at that moment his mind was very far away it carried him back a dozen years to a dirty little peasant's cabin on the hillside outside Durazzo to the livid face of a young Albanian chief who had lost at Carla's whim all that life held for a man to the hateful eyes of the girl's father who stood with folded arms glaring down at the bound and manacled figure on the floor to the smoke-stained rafters of this peasant cottage and the dancing shadows on the roof to that terrible hour of waiting when he sat bound to a post with the candle flickering and spluttering lower and lower to a little heap of gunpowder that would start the trail towards the clumsy infernal machine under his chair he remembered the day well because it was candlemas day and this was the anniversary he remembered other things more pleasant the beat of hoofs on the rocky roadway the crash of the door falling in when the turkeys' jawned arms had battered away to his rescue he remembered with a savage joy the spectacle of his would-be assassins twitching and struggling on the gallows at Pizarra and he heard the faint tinkle of the front doorbell had TX returned he slipped from the bed and went to the door opened it slightly and listened TX with a search warrant might be a sort of panic especially if he shrugged his shoulders he had satisfied TX and allayed his suspicions he would get Fischer out of the way that night and make sure the voice from the hall below was loud and gruff who could it be? then he heard Fischer's foot on the stairs and the valet entered will you see Mr. Gather Cole now Mr. Gather Cole Kara breathed a sigh of relief and his face was wreathed in smiles why of course tell him to come up ask him if he minds seeing me in my room I told him you were in bed sir and he used shocking language said Fischer Kara laughed send him up he said and then as Fischer was going out of the room he called him back by the way Fischer after Mr. Gather Cole is gone you may go out for the night you've got somewhere to go I suppose and you needn't come back until the morning yes sir said the servant such an instruction was remarkably pleasing to him there was much that he had to do and that night's freedom would assist him materially perhaps Kara hesitated perhaps you'd better wait until eleven o'clock bring me up some sandwiches and a large glass of milk or better still play some on a plate in the hall very good sir said the man and withdrew down below that grotesque figure with his shiny hat and his ragged beard was walking up and down the tessellated hallway muttering to himself and staring at the various objects in the hall with a certain amused antagonism Mr. Kara will see you sir said Fischer oh said the other glaring at the unoffending Fischer that's very good of him very good of this person to see a scholar and a gentleman who's been about his dirty business for three years grown grey in his service do you understand that you've got a lot to say do you understand that my man yes sir said Fischer look here the man thrust down his face do you see those grey hairs in my beard the embarrassed Fischer grinned is it grey challenge the visitor with a roar yes sir said the valet hastily is it real grey insisted the visitor pull one out and see the startled Fischer drew back with an apologetic smile I couldn't think of doing a thing like that sir oh you couldn't sneered the visitor then lead on Fischer showed the way up the stairs this time the traveller carried no books his left arm hung limply by his side and Fischer privately gathered that the hand had got loose from the detaining pocket without its owner being aware of the fact he pushed open the door and announced Mr. Gavacol and the carer came forward with a smile to meet his agent who with top hat still on top of his head and his overcoat dangling about his heels must have made a remarkable picture Fischer closed the door behind them and returned to his duties in the hall below ten minutes later he heard the door opened and the booming voice of the stranger came down to him Fischer went up the stairs to meet him and found him addressing the occupant of the room in his own eccentric fashion no more Patagonia he roared no more Tierra del Fiego he paused certainly he replied to some question but not Patagonia he paused again and Fischer standing at the foot of the stairs wondered what had occurred to make the visitor so genial I suppose your check will be on at all right asked the visitor sardonically and then burst into a little chuckle of laughter as he carefully closed the door he came down the corridor talking to himself and greeted Fischer damn all Greeks he said jovially and Fischer could do no more than smile reproachfully the smile being his very own the reproach being on behalf of the master who paid him the traveler touched the other on his chest with his right hand never trust a Greek he said always get your money in advance is that clear to you yes sir said Fischer but I think you will always find that Mr. Carrough is always most generous about money don't you believe it don't you believe it my poor man said the other at that moment they came from Carrough's room a faint clang what's that? asked the visitor a little startle Mr. Carrough has put down his dill latch said Fischer with a smile which means that he is not to be disturbed until he looks at his watch until 11 o'clock at any rate he's our funk obviously funk he stamped down the stairs as though testing the weight of every tread opened the front door without assistance slammed it behind him and disappeared into the night Fischer his hands and his pockets looked after the departing stranger nodding his head in reprobation you are a queer old devil he said and looked at his watch again it wanted five minutes to ten end of chapter 12 recording by Peter Tomlinson chapter 13 of The Clue of the Twisted Candle by Edgar Wallace this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Peter Tomlinson chapter 13 if you would care to come in sir I'm sure Lexman will be glad to see you said TX it's very kind of you to take an interest in the matter the chief commissioner of police growled something about being paid to take an interest in everybody and strolled with TX down one of the apparently endless corridors of Scotland Yard you won't have any bother about the pardon he said I was dining tonight with old man Bartholomew and he will fix that up in the morning there will be no necessity to detain Lexman in custody asked TX the chief shook his head none whatever he said there was a pause then by the way did Bartholomew mention Belinda Mary the white-haired chief looked round in astonishment and who the devil is Belinda Mary he asked TX went red Belinda Mary he said a little quickly is Bartholomew's daughter by Joe said the commissioner now you mention it he did she was still in France oh is she said TX innocently and in his heart of hearts he wished most fervently that she was they came to the room which Mansus occupied and found that admirable man waiting wherever policemen meet their conversation actually drifted to shop and in two minutes the three were discussing with some animation and much difference of opinion as far as TX was concerned a series of frauds which have been perpetrated in the midlands and which have nothing to do with this story your friend is late said the chief commissioner there he is cried TX bringing up he heard a familiar footstep on the flag corridor and sprung out of the room to meet the newcomer for a moment he stood ringing the hand of this grave man his heart too full for words my dear chaff he said at last you don't know how glad I am to see you John Lexman said nothing then I'm sorry to bring you into this business TX he said quietly nonsense said the other come in and see the chief he took John by the arm and let him into the superintendent's room there was a change in John Lexman a subtle shift of valence which was not readily discoverable his face was older his mobile mouth a little more grimly set the eyes more deeply lined he was in evening dress and looked as TX thought a typical clean English gentleman such as one as any self-respecting valet would be proud to say he had turned out TX looking at him carefully could see no great change save that down one side of his smooth shave and cheek ran the scar of an old wound which could not have been much more than superficial I must apologize for this kit said John taking off his overcoat and laying it across the back of a chair but the fact is I was so bored this evening that I had to do something to pass the time away so I dressed and went to the theatre and was more bored than ever TX noticed that he did not smile and that when he spoke it was slowly and carefully as though he were weighing the value of every word now he went on I have come to deliver myself into your hands I suppose you have not seen Cara said TX I have no desire to see Cara was the short reply well Mr. Lexman broke in the chief I don't think you are going to have any difficulty about your escape by the way I suppose it was by airplane Lexman nodded he had an assistant again Lexman nodded unless you pressed me I would rather not discuss the matter for some little time Sir George he said there is much that will happen before the full story of my escape is made known Sir George nodded we will leave it at that he said cheerily and now I hope you have come back to delight us all with one of your wonderful plots for the time being I have done with wonderful plots said John Lexman in that even deliberate tone of things I hope to leave London next week for New York and take up such of the threads of life as remain the greater thread has gone the chief commissioner understood the silence which followed was broken by the loud and insistent ringing of the telephone bell hello said Manson rising quickly that's Cara's bell with two quick slides he was at the telephone and lifted down the receiver hello he cried hello he cried again there was no reply only the continuous buzzing and when he hung up the receiver again the bell continued ringing the three police men looked at one another there's trouble there said Manson take off the receiver said TX and try again Manson's obeyed but there was no response I'm afraid this is not my affair said John Lexman gathering up his coat what do you wish me to do Sir George come along tomorrow morning and see us Lexman said Sir George offering his hand where are you staying ask TX at the Great Midland reply the other at least my bags have gone on there I'll come along and see you tomorrow morning it's curious this should have happened the night you return he said gripping the other shoulder affectionately John Lexman did not speak for the moment if anything happened to Cara he said slowly if the worst that was possible happened to him believe me I should not weep TX looked down into the other's eyes sympathetically I think he has hurt you pretty badly old man he said gently John Lexman nodded he has damn him he said between his teeth the Chief Commissioner's motorcar was waiting outside and in this TX Manson's and a detective sergeant were whirled off to Cadogan Square Fisher was in the hall when they rang the bell and opened the door instantly he was frankly surprised to see his visitors Mr. Cara was in his room he explained resentfully as though TX should have been aware of the fact without being told he had heard no bell ringing and indeed had not been summoned to the room I had to see him at eleven o'clock he said and I have had standing instructions not to go to him unless I am sent for TX led the way upstairs and went through to Cara's room he knocked but there was no reply he knocked again and on this failing to evoke any response kicked heavily at the door have you a telephone downstairs he asked yes sir replied Fisher TX turned to the detective sergeant phone to the yard he said and get a man up with a bag of tools we shall have to pick this lock and I haven't got my case with me picking the lock would be no good sir said Fisher and interested him Mr. Cara's got the latch down I forgot that said TX tell him to bring his sword would have to cut through the panel here while they were waiting for the arrival of the police officer TX strove to attract the attention of the inmates of the room but without success does he take opium or anything asked Manson's Fisher shook his head I had never known him to take any of that kind of stuff he said TX made a rapid survey of the other rooms on that floor the room next to Cara's was the library beyond that was a dressing room which according to Fisher Miss Holland had used and at the further most end of the corridor was the dining room facing the dining room was a small service lift and by its side a store room in which were a number of trunks including a very large one smothered in injunctions in three different languages to handle with care there was nothing else of interest on this floor and the upper and lower floors could wait in a quarter of an hour the helicopter had arrived from Scotland Yard and had bored a hole in the rosewood panel of Cara's room and was busily applying his slender sore through the hole he cut TX could see no more than that the room was in darkness safe for the glow of a blazing fire he inserted his hand groped for the knob of the steel latch which he had remarked on his previous visit to the room lifted it and the door swung open keep outside everybody he ordered he felt for the switch of the electric found it and instantly the room was flooded with light the bed was hidden by the open door TX took one stride into the room and saw enough Cara was lying half on and half off the bed he was quite dead and the bloodstained patch above his heart told its own story TX stood looking down at him saw the frozen horror on the dead man's face then drew his eyes away and slowly surveyed the room there in the middle of the carpet he found his clue a bent and twisted little candle such as you find on children's Christmas trees End of Chapter 13 Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 14 of the clue of the twisted candle by Edgar Wallace this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 14 it was Mantis who found the second candle a stouter affair it lay underneath the bed the telephone which stood on a fairly large size table by the side of the bed was overturned and the receiver was on the floor by its side were two books one being the Balkan question and the other travels and politics in the Near East by Miller with them was a long ivory paper knife there was nothing else on the bedside table save a silver cigarette box TX drew on a pair of gloves and examined the bright surface for fingerprints but a superficial view revealed no such clue open the window said TX the heat here is intolerable be very careful Mantis by the way is the window fastened very well fastened said the superintendent after a careful scrutiny he pushed back the fastenings lifted the window and as he did a harsh bell rang in the basement that is the burglar an arm I suppose said TX go down and stop that bell he addressed Fisher who stood with a troubled face at the door when he had disappeared TX gave a significant glance to one of the waiting officers and the man sauntered after the valley Fisher stopped the bell and came back to the hall and stood before the hall fire a very troubled man near the fire was a big open writing table and on on there lay a small envelope which he did not remember having seen before though it might have been there for some time for he had spent a greater portion of the evening in the kitchen with the cook he picked up the envelope and with a start it was addressed to himself he opened it and took out a card there were only a few words written upon it but they were sufficient to banish all the colour from his face and set his hands shaking he took the envelope and card and flung them in the fire it also happened that at that moment Mansers had called from upstairs and the officer who had been told off to keep the valley under observation ran up in answer to the summons for a moment Fisher hesitated then hatless and coatless as he was he crept to the door opened it leaving it a jar behind him and darting down the steps ran like a hare from the house the doctor who came a little later was cautious after the hour of death if you got your telephone message at 10.25 as you say that was probably the hour he was killed I could not tell within half an hour obviously the man who killed him gripped his throat with his left hand there are bruises on his neck and stabbed him with the right it was at this time that the disappearance of Fisher was noticed but the cross examination of the terrified Mrs Beale removed any dart that TX had as to the man's guilt he had better send out an all stations message and pull him in said TX he was with the cook from the moment the visitor left until a few minutes before we rang besides which it is obviously impossible to have got into this room or out again have you searched the dead man Manchester produced a tray on which carousel belongings have been disposed the ordinary keys Mrs Beale was able to identify there were one or two which were beyond her TX recognized one of these as the key of the safe but the two smaller keys buffled him not a little and Mrs Beale was at first unable to assist him the only thing I can think of sir is the wine cellar the wine cellar said TX slowly that must be he stopped the greater tragedy of the evening with all its mystifying aspects had not banished from his mind the thought of the girl that Belinda Mary who had called upon him at her hour of danger as he divined perhaps he descended into the kitchen and was brought face to face with the unpainted door it looks more like a prison that's what I've always thought sir said Mrs Beale and sometimes I've had a horrible feeling of fear he cut short her locustity by inserting one of the keys in the lock it did not turn but he had more success with the second the lock snapped back easily and he pulled the door back he found the inner door bolted top and bottom the bolt slipped back in their well oiled sockets without any effort evidently Kara used this place pretty frequently he pushed the door open and stopped with an exclamation of surprise the cellar apartment was brilliantly lit but it was unoccupied this beats the band said TX he saw something on the table and lifted it up it was a pair of long-bladed scissors and about the handle was wound a handkerchief it was not this fact which startled him but that the scissors blades were dappled with blood and blood too the handkerchief he unwound the flimsy piece of cambrick and stared at the monogram B M B he looked around nobody had seen the weapon and he dropped it in his overcoat pocket and walked from the cellar to the kitchen where Mrs Beale and Mansers awaited him there is a lower cellar is there not? he asked in a strange voice that was bricked up where Mr Kara looked the house explained the woman there is nothing more to look for here he said he walked slowly up the stairs to the library his mind in a whirl that he an accredited officer of police sworn to the business of criminal detection should attempt to screen one who was conceivably a criminal was inexplicable but if the girl had committed this crime how had she reached Kara's room and why had she returned to the locked cellar he sent for Mrs Beale to interrogate her she had heard nothing and she had been in the kitchen all the evening one fact she did reveal however that Fisher had gone from the kitchen and had been absent a quarter of an hour and had returned a little agitated stay here said TX and went down again to the cellar to make a further search probably there is some way out of this subterranean jail he thought and a diligent search of the room soon revealed it he found the iron trap pulled it open and slipped down the stairs he too was puzzled by the luxurious character of the vault he passed from room to room and finally came to the inner chamber where a light was burning the light as he discovered proceeded from a small reading lamp which stood by the side of a small brass bedstead the bed had recently been slept in but there was no sign of any occupant TX conducted a very careful search and had no difficulty in finding the bricked up door other exits there were none the floor was of wood block and laid on concrete the ventilation was excellent and in one of the recesses which had evidently held at some time or other a large wine bin there was a perfect electrical cooking plant in a small larder were a number of baskets bearing the name of a well known caterer one of them containing an excellent assortment of cold and potted meats preserves etc TX went back to the bedroom and took the little lamp from the table by the side of the bed and began a more careful examination presently he found traces of blood and followed an irregular trail to the outer room he lost it suddenly at the foot of the stairs leading down from the upper cellar then he struck it again he had reached the end of his electric cord and was now depending upon an electric torch he had taken from his pocket there were indications of something heavy having been dragged across the room and he saw that it led to a small bathroom he had made a cursor examination of this well appointed apartment and now he proceeded to make a close investigation and was well rewarded the bathroom was the only apartment which possessed anything resembling a door a two fold screen and as he pressed his back he felt something which prevented its wider extension he slipped into the room and flashed his lamp in the space behind the screen there stiff in death with glazed eyes and lolling tongue lay a great gaunt dog his yellow fangs exposed in a last grimace about the neck was a collar and attached to that a few links of broken chain TX mounted the steps thoughtfully and passed out to the kitchen did Belinda Mary stab Kara or kill the dog that she killed one hound or the other was certain that she killed both was possible End of chapter 14 Recording by Peter Tomlinson