John Carr - The Reader Is Warned

• Название: The Reader Is Warned
• Автор: John Carr
• Жанр: Прочая старинная литература

Another of Carr's mysteries with a strong gothic touch, this one involving a psychic. 

_________________

---

Chase ducked his head in such a way so to tilt the water from the brim of his bowler hat. He looked up under it.

'Good afternoon, good afternoon,' he said. 'Anybody who says "speak of the devil" will hereby and on the instant receive to-day's cliche" cup. At the same time, I've got a distinct feeling you were just discussing either Hilary or myself. Am I correct? - as Pennik would say.'

Hilary tried to keep up the same light atmosphere. She and Sanders looked at each other, and both looked away again.

'You're quite right,' agreed H. M., beckoning to a waiter. 'Sit down, both of you. Have a coffee with us. And a cigar.'

'I don't want a cigar, really,' said Hilary, taking off her hat and shaking back her rich brown hair. Sanders set out a chair for her. 'And I can only stop a moment. I don't get two and a half hours for lunch like some people. But I was on my way back to Richmond Terrace, and I met this tempter, and - I was curious.'

Chase tossed his cigarette-case on the table.

.. 'As a matter of fact,' he admitted, 'so was I. And still am.’

'Oh, ah?' asked Masters affably. 'About what, sir?'

'If I knew that,' said Chase, 'I wouldn't be curious. About why you wanted to see me, among other things. Is anything else up ? Anything besides what we know, that is ? My God, poor old Mina!'

The edges of his eyelids were pinkish. He hitched his chair closer to the table.

'I wouldn't have believed it. It's the worst mess ever devised by man, beast, or what's-its-name. Look round you. Look out there - newspaper-bills. Look in here - newspapers. That table, and that table, and that table.' He glanced back quickly. 'Er - I say, you don't think anybody knows we're connected with It, do you?'

'Well, sir, they won't if you keep your voice down.'

Chase seemed to dwindle.

'Sorry,' he whispered. 'But I warned Mina, and she wouldn't listen. Ifs not that I think this fellow has any supernatural power; it's only that these things keep on happening. Now I've got to straighten things out. You probably know that Sam was a distant relative of mine.'

'Is that so, now?' inquired Masters, with interest.

'Yes; didn't you see it in the obituary notice? His father's name was Lawrence Chase Constable. I'm a second-cousin.' Chase looked glum. 'Not that I inherit any of his money, worse luck.'

'No?'

‘No. Well, except for a hundred pounds, which hardly

counts. The trouble is, who does inherit it? Am I speaking

in confidence?'

'Entirely, sir. Entirely!'

'Sam's will,' Chase explained, opening his cigarette-case, 'left everything entirely and unconditionally to Mina. But Mina, who never thought of such things, died without leaving a will. And Mina has no kin whatever, not a surviving relative in the world. Which means that legally Mina's estate, and Sam's very large estate on top of that, must revert to the Crown.

'Now that will cause a dust-up for fair, because the whole thing will certainly be contested by Sam's relatives. Not by me, though! In the first place, I'm appointed joint executor and trustee of Sam's estate with an old moss-back named Rich, Sir John Rich. In the second place, Sam's other sur-viving relatives are a sister and two first cousins. If they win their claim, the sister will grab the lot; or what she doesn't grab will be taken by the first cousins; and I should be no- where even if I tried. That's the position, quite frankly. All I get is the dirty work of administering the estate and a kick in the backside whatever happens. Ah, well. The thrice- damned Pennik -'

He straightened the shoulders of his very elegant coat, he lighted a cigarette with concentration, and evidently decided to say no more.

'Bad luck, sir,' consoled Masters.

'Ah, well. It's all in the game. What really matters is that poor old Sam and Mina are both dead.'

·Yes, sir. But-'

'But what?'

The now-too-affable chief inspector produced a metaphorical hand-grenade, examined it, pulled out the pin, and dropped it among them. You could almost see him searching for an excuse to drop it.

Masters frowned.

'Nothing, sir. Only best not to speak too harshly of Mr Pennik in present company. Eh?'

‘Present company?'

'I mean in front of Miss Keen.'

‘Look here, what's Hilary got to do with all this ?'

Masters assumed a heavy air of surprise. 'Well, that's to say: Miss Keen is a great friend of Mr Pennik. Aren't you, miss? After all, going out to a slap-up supper with him on the night after Mrs Constable died -'

Hilary had not spoken.

Her chair was cramped in close to Sanders's, but she did not turn her head. He could see only the smooth line of her hair, cut rather long and curling in below the ears, and the smooth line of her neck above the plain dark-blue dress. But he felt her breathe.

The uncomfortable pause was only prolonged by the-waiter bringing coffee-cups and rattling them.

Then Hilary raised her head. She spoke to H. M.

'Why do you dislike me so much, Sir Henry?' she asked.

'me? Dislike you?'

'Yes. You do, don't you? Is it because you're a friend of Sir Dennis Blystone? Is it?'

'My dear gal, I don't know what you're talkin' about. What's Denny Blystone got to do with this ?'

'Never mind,' said Hilary, picking up a match-box and; playing with it. 'I saw you at the Corinthian last night. Looking and looking and looking and looking. You pretended not to see us, but you even stumbled past our table so that you could get a good look. I suppose it was you who told the chief inspector about it?'

For a moment H. M. did not reply. He seemed oddly fussed. Making a careful selection of a cigar from a tray of boxes the waiter handed round, he growled and glowered.

'Well, y'know ... you were there, weren't you?'

'Yes. Oh, God, yes. I was there.'

'Of your own free will?'

'Of my own free will.'

'And it's a mighty public place, the Corinthian is. At any minute I expected a squad of reporters to come chasin' in and set off a lot of flash-bulbs-'

'As a matter of fact, they did. When we were leaving.'

'And did you like that?'

'No. I hated it,' said Hilary. She put down the matchbox. 'You have a lot of power,' she went on quietly. ‘I mean the power to make other people think and feel as you think and feel. Please don't judge too soon. Please don't jump to conclusions before you know why certain things are done.'

'I'm not,' said H. M. with equal quietness. 'Honest, I wish you'd sort of accept the fact that my gapin' and starin' wasn't at you. And I blundered past your table to get a good look at Pennik's hands.'

She frowned. 'His hands?'

'His hands,' agreed H. M. 'At a pinch, y'know, I might even accept the possibility that you mean better than you seem to mean.'

Hilary sat back, releasing her breath. Sanders laughed to get rid of a certain tension.

'Will somebody tell me what this is all about?' he asked. 'We're not here to talk about social evenings, are we? Why shouldn't she go out to supper with whoever she pleases ?'

'Of course. Why not?' said Hilary coldly. 'It was only that the chief inspector brought it up.'

'Now, miss! -'

'And after all,' pursued Sanders, 'she's going out to dinner with me to-night, if it comes to that. Aren't you?' 'Yes, of course, Jack. Only...' 'Well, aren't you?'

'Yes, yes, of course. Besides, this isn't the place to talk about that. I've got to get back to the office. Please excuse me.' Finishing her coffee, "she got up and pulled the waterproof round her shoulders. For the first time she faced him. Her manner was one of quiet efficiency: a reserve, a poise which was not shaken.

'Right, then,' said Sanders, cheerfully. 'I'll call for you at seven-thirty sharp. Don't be late.'

'Jack-'

'Here, you've got to have a taxi. You can't walk to Richmond Terrace in all this.'

'Jack, may I speak to you a moment? - The rest of you will excuse us, won't you?'

'Miss,' said Chief Inspector Masters, with a curious look at her, 'all this may be no business of ours. On the other hand (excuse me), it may be. I'd just like to bet you, now, that I know what you're going to tell him. And anything about Mr Ruddy Pennik, anything at all about him or the people he's with, for whatever reason, interests me. Why can't you go out to dinner with anybody else to-night?'

He got to his feet.

Outside the great dingy oblong of the plate-glass window, a figure moved along in the rain; it turned in at the restaurant, navigated the revolving door, and came in. Herman Pennik, removing his sodden hat and coat, beckoned imperiously to a waiter even as he turned to smile at them.

CHAPTER XV

The mango-tree was growing.

That was how Sanders saw Pennik's character. New tentacles were stirring out from under the cloth, and coming to blossom.

The worst of it was that they all had to pretend this was only an ordinary lunch, such as a few other people were eating in the now nearly empty restaurant. The steamy air, which had set a film over mirrors and decorations alike, was now subsiding. Over empty tables waiters slapped with their cloths at ancient crumbs. In the midst of this somnolence the party could not raise their voices, could not sit in any but stiff and constrained attitudes, whatever might be going to happen.

Pennik spoke first. It was an optical illusion that his face or the least detail of his appearance had changed: it had not. Yet there was a new set about him, a new cause for satisfaction, which Sanders did not yet understand.

'Sir Henry Merrivale?' inquired Pennik, with his light eyes fixed.

‘That's right. Join us?'

‘Thank you.'

He handed his coat and hat to the waiter, and it was in the waiter's face, not in that of any of the others, that you saw reflected the emotional state round that table. In the waiter's face you saw sudden recognition. Taking Pennik's things, he turned round and walked rapidly away.

‘I must be going,' said Hilary. 'I really must. Jack, if I could have a word with you?'

'Please sit down, Miss Keen,' Pennik requested. His tone was formal, but inside him Sanders felt he was holding his thick ribs with amusement. That was it: he somehow conveyed the impression of being thicker, not only of body and face, but perhaps even of mind. ‘No, no, you must not go. If you are late at the office, all that can be arranged.'

'I only wish it could.'

'Do you? If everything else were as easy!' said Pennik. ' "And you should have the sun and moon to wear, if I were king."'

'That would be very nice,' said Hilary. She sat down.

'How do you do, Mr Masters ?' pursued Pennik, to a chief inspector who was watching him as warily as you might watch a cat at which it may soon be necessary to throw a botde. 'And you, Mr Chase?'

'Sorry. Got to go. You'll excuse me,' said Chase.

He got up stiffly and walked out of the restaurant, whirling his waterproof behind him without even bothering to put it on. They saw him standing just outside, bare-headed and semi-bald in the rain, peering up and down to decide in which direction his appointment lay. He collided with a little group of loungers who had huddled under the shelter of the overhang at the door, and were looking steadily into the restaurant.

Indubitably, something was going to happen. .

'I regret,' Pennik continued, again fixing his attention on H. M., 'I genuinely regret having had to turn you away from the Black Swan the other night. For I have looked forward to a meeting. Under the circumstances, however, I felt that to see you would be a disturbing influence. Can you understand that?'

H. M. had got his cigar lighted.

'No apology necessary, son. - But what are you doin' here now?'

'To tell you the truth, I was following Miss Keen.'

'Then it was you ...' Hilary began.

'Following you in the taxi? Yes, my poppet, I am afraid it was. I like looking at you. Yes, I honestly do like looking at you, if you follow my meaning. You stimulate me. Under your inspiration I feel that even a modest fellow like myself might do great things.' Hilary's face flamed, but she did not dare comment. Pennik was opening and shutting his hands. 'When I saw all of our - er - protagonists seated round the council board here, I could not resist joining in. For one thing, I wanted to see Chief Inspector Masters.' Masters stiffened.

'I wanted to ask him a question,' explained Pennik.

'If there are any questions being asked hereabouts,' Masters said,'I’ll ask 'em, if you please. And I've got a question or two for you, Mr Pennik. What are you doing in London? What's your permanent address, in case we want to get hold of you ? You were last at the Black Swan Hotel. Well?'

Pennik smiled.

'Well, I don't live there, you know. I have a flat in Bloomsbury - a modest flat, as suits my tastes. I will write you the address. Er - what I really wanted to know, Mr Masters, was this. Would there be any objection to my leaving the country?''

A blow in the solar plexus could not have been worse.

'Leaving the country?' breathed Masters. 'Yes, sir, there smacking well would be an objection to your leaving the country. If you think you can start all this rumpus and then walk out, you'll soon find out you can't.'

Again Pennik smiled. Though his little, light, flickering eyes were on Hilary, he gave the question his attention.

'Be comforted, Mr Masters. I have no intention of deserting you. I meant for a few hours only, on a visit to France. I have received a signal honour in being asked to make a radio broadcast -'

'Oh, ah, yes,' said Masters, maliciously. 'I remember. For the cheese company, wasn't it?'

Pennik laughed outright. It gave him an odd look, as though his face were unused to laughter and these new sensations produced queer wrinkles when he did laugh. He seemed genuinely to like the chief inspector; in fact, he bore malice towards nobody.

'No. Hadn't you heard? All that is changed. I have been officially invited to speak over the French government radio station to-morrow night. I shall speak first in French, and then in English. Nine forty-five to ten-fifteen is the time, in case you are interested.' His forehead was ruffled with an annoyance not unmixed with amusement. 'You know, my good friend, I am afraid the French have rather misunderstood the nature of my claims. All these nonsensical rumours of death-machines and-such clap-trap -' He shook his head.

'They will mislead themselves, gentlemen. They will persist in attributing to me powers I don't have and never claimed to have. Heaven knows my thesis is modest enough. It is only surprising because, in its present scientific application, it is new.' Here Pennik hesitated a little; Sanders wondered why. 'I do not want them, therefore, to be misled by such tales and be disappointed. At the same time, when they hear what I have to say I don't think they will be disappointed. Nor will my friends in England be disappointed. By God, gentlemen, the million people who hear me shall not be disappointed.'