Part 5 (1/2)

”Dear me,” he exclaimed, ”something seems to have happened! My dear Violet, you can put that revolver away. I have secured the door.”

Her hand fell to her side. She gave a little s.h.i.+ver of relief. Peter Ruff nodded.

”That is more comfortable,” he declared. ”Now, perhaps, you will explain--”

”That young man,” she interrupted, ”or lunatic--whatever he calls himself--burst in here a few minutes ago, dragging--that!” She pointed to the motionless figure upon the floor. ”If I had not stopped him, he would have bolted off without a word of explanation.”

Peter Ruff, with his back against the door, shook his head gravely.

”My dear Lord Merries,” he said, ”my office is not a mortuary.”

Merries gasped.

”You know me, then?” he muttered, hoa.r.s.ely.

”Of course,” Ruff answered. ”It is my profession to know everybody. Go and sit down upon that easy-chair, and drink the brandy and soda which Miss Brown is about to mix for you. That's right.”

Merries staggered across the room and half fell into an easy-chair. He leaned over the side with his face buried in his hands, unable still to face the horror which lay upon the floor. A few seconds later, the tumbler of brandy and soda was in his hands. He drank it like a man who drains fresh life into his veins.

”Perhaps now,” Peter Ruff suggested, pointing to the motionless figure, ”you can give me some explanation as to this!”

Merries looked away from him all the time he was speaking. His voice was thick and nervous.

”There were three of us lunching together,” he began--”four in all.

There was a dispute, and this man threatened us. Afterwards there was a fight. It fell to my lot to take him away, and I can't get rid of him!

I can't get rid of him!” he repeated, with something that sounded like a sob.

”I still do not see,” Peter Ruff argued, ”why you should have brought him here and deposited him upon my perfectly new carpet.”

”You are Peter Ruff,” Merries declared. ”'Crime Investigator and Private Detective,' you call yourself. You are used to this sort of thing. You will know what to do with it. It is part of your business.”

”I can a.s.sure you,” Peter Ruff answered, ”that you are under a delusion as to the details of my profession. I am Peter Ruff,” he admitted, ”and I call myself a crime investigator--in fact, I am the only one worth speaking of in the world. But I certainly deny that I am used to having dead bodies deposited upon my carpet, and that I make a habit of disposing of them--especially gratis.”

Merries tore open his coat.

”Listen,” he said, his voice shaking hysterically, ”I must get rid of it or go mad. For two hours I have been driving about in a motor car with--it for a pa.s.senger. I drove to a quiet spot and I tried to lift it out--a policeman rode up! I tried again, a man rushed by on a motor cycle, and turned to look at me! I tried a few minutes later--the policeman came back! It was always the same. The night seemed to have eyes. I was watched everywhere. The--the face began to mock me. I'll swear that I heard it chuckle once!”

Peter Ruff moved a little further away.

”I don't think I'll have anything to do with it,” he declared. ”I don't like your description at all.”

”It'll be all right with you,” Merries declared eagerly. ”It's my nerves, that's all. You see, I was there--when the accident happened.

See here,” he added, tearing a pocketbook from his coat, ”I have three hundred and seventy pounds saved up in case I had to bolt. I'll keep seventy--three hundred for you--to dispose of it!”

Ruff leaned over the motionless body, looked into its face, and nodded.

”Masters, the bookmaker,” he remarked. ”H'm! I did hear that he had a lot of money coming to him over the Cambridges.h.i.+re.”