from which they had heard the moaning. All the blinds of the ground floor rooms were drawn, but this particular window upstairs was unshuttered.
Tommy put the ladder as noiselessly as possible against the side of the house.
‘I’ll go up,’ whispered Tuppence. ‘You stay below. I don’t mind climbing ladders and you can steady it better than I could. And in case the doctor should come round the corner you’d be able to deal with him and I shouldn’t.’
Nimbly Tuppence swarmed up the ladder and raised her head cautiously to look in at the window. Then she ducked it swiftly, but after a minute or two brought it very slowly up again. She stayed there for about five minutes. Then she descended again.
‘It’s her,’ she said breathlessly and ungrammatically. ‘But, oh, Tommy, it’s horrible. She’s lying there in bed, moaning, and turning to and fro – and just as I got there a woman dressed as a nurse came in. She bent over her and injected something in her arm and then went away again. What shall we do?’
‘Is she conscious?’
‘I think so. I’m almost sure she is. I fancy she may be strapped to the bed. I’m going up again, and if I can I’m going to get into that room.’
‘I say, Tuppence –’
‘If I’m in any sort of danger, I’ll yell for you. So long.’
Avoiding further argument Tuppence hurried up the ladder again. Tommy saw her try the window, then noiselessly push up the sash. Another second and she had disappeared inside.
And now an agonising time came for Tommy. He could hear nothing at first. Tuppence and Mrs Leigh Gordon must be talking in whispers if they were talking at all. Presently he did hear a low murmur of voices and drew a breath of relief. But suddenly the voices stopped. Dead silence.
Tommy strained his ears. Nothing. What could they be doing?
Suddenly a hand fell on his shoulder.
‘Come on,’ said Tuppence’s voice out of the darkness.
‘Tuppence! How did you get here?’
‘Through the front door. Let’s get out of this.’
‘Get out of this?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘But – Mrs Leigh Gordon?’
In a tone of indescribable bitterness Tuppence replied:
‘Getting thin!’
Tommy looked at her, suspecting irony.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I say. Getting thin. Slinkiness. Reduction of weight. Didn’t you hear Stavansson say he hated fat women? In the two years he’s been away, his Hermy has put on weight. Got a panic when she knew he was coming back and rushed off to do this new treatment of Dr Horriston’s. It’s injections of some sort, and he makes a deadly secret of it, and charges through the nose. I dare say he is a quack – but he’s a damned successful one! Stavansson comes home a fortnight too soon, when she’s only beginning the treatment. Lady Susan has been sworn to secrecy and plays up. And we come down here and make blithering idiots of ourselves!’
Tommy drew a deep breath.
‘I believe, Watson,’ he said with dignity, ‘that there is a very good concert at the Queen’s Hall tomorrow. We shall be in plenty of time for it. And you will oblige me by not placing this case upon your records. It has absolutely no distinctive features.’
Chapter 6
Blindman’s Buff
‘Blindman’s Buff’ was first published as ‘Blind Man’s Buff’ in The Sketch, 26 November 1924. Thornley Colton was created by Clinton H. Stagg (1890–1916).
‘Right,’ said Tommy, and replaced the receiver on its hook.
Then he turned to Tuppence.
‘That was the Chief. Seems to have got the wind up about us. It appears that the parties we’re after have got wise to the fact that I’m not the genuine Mr Theodore Blunt. We’re to expect excitements at any minute. The Chief begs you as a favour to go home and stay at home, and not mix yourself up in it any more. Apparently the hornet’s nest we’ve stirred up is bigger than anyone imagined.’
‘All that about my going home is nonsense,’ said Tuppence decidedly. ‘Who is going to look after you if I go home? Besides, I like excitement. Business hasn’t been very brisk just lately.’
‘Well, one can’t have murders and robberies every day,’ said Tommy. ‘Be reasonable. Now, my idea is this. When business is slack, we ought to do a certain amount of home exercises every day.’
‘Lie on our backs and wave our feet in the air? That sort of thing?’
‘Don’t be so literal in your interpretation. When I say exercises, I mean exercises in the detective art. Reproductions of the great masters. For instance –’
From the drawer beside him Tommy took out a formidable dark green eyeshade, covering both eyes. This he adjusted with some care. Then he drew a watch from his pocket.
‘I broke the glass this morning,’ he remarked. ‘That paved the way for its being the crystalless watch which my sensitive fingers touch so lightly.’
‘Be careful,’ said Tuppence. ‘You nearly had the short hand off then.’
‘Give me your hand,’ said Tommy. He held it, one finger feeling for the pulse. ‘Ah! the keyboard of silence. This woman has not got heart disease.’
‘I suppose,’ said Tuppence, ‘that you are Thornley Colton?’
‘Just so,’ said Tommy. ‘The blind Problemist. And you’re thingummybob, the black haired, apple-cheeked secretary –’
‘The bundle of baby clothes picked up on the banks of the river,’ finished Tuppence.
‘And Albert is the Fee, alias Shrimp.’
‘We must teach him to say, “Gee,”‘ said Tuppence. ‘And his voice isn’t shrill. It’s dreadfully hoarse.’
‘Against the wall by the door,’ said Tommy, ‘you perceive the slim hollow cane which held in my sensitive hand tells me so much.’
He rose and cannoned into a chair.
‘Damn!’ said Tommy. ‘I forgot that chair was there.’
‘It must be beastly to be blind,’ said Tuppence with feeling.
‘Rather,’ agreed Tommy heartily. ‘I’m sorrier for all those poor devils who lost their eyesight in the war than for anyone else. But they say that when you live in the dark you really do develop special senses. That’s what I want to try and see if one couldn’t do. It would be jolly handy to train oneself to be some good in the dark. Now, Tuppence, be a good Sydney Thames. How many steps to that cane?’
Tuppence made a desperate guess.
‘Three straight, five left,’ she hazarded.
Tommy paced it uncertainly, Tuppence interrupting with a cry of warning as she realised that the fourth step left would take him slap against the wall.
‘There’s a lot in this,’ said Tuppence. ‘You’ve no idea how difficult it is to judge how many steps are needed.’
‘It’s jolly interesting,’ said Tommy. ‘Call Albert in. I’m going to shake hands with you both, and see if I know which is which.’
‘All right,’ said Tuppence, ‘but Albert must wash his hands first. They’re sure to be sticky from those beastly acid drops he’s always eating.’
Albert, introduced to the game, was full of interest.
Tommy, the handshakes