this thing years ago, the golfing club, if it hadn’t been for the Earl. My father. Dead set against it. Well, what can you expect? Complete reactionary. But he can’t hold on forever, thank goodness. Soon as he pops off, we get to work. Should be any day now, too. Got a bad ticker, the swine.” He grinned happily.
“Well,” he said. “I’m off.” He stood up. “There’s coffee, tea, whatever. Help yourself.”
“You are going into the village?” asked the Great Man.
“No, going for a ride on my new motorbike. Arrived just yesterday, straight from the factory. A Brough Superior, one-liter engine, four gears, hundred miles an hour top speed. Real beauty.” He smiled at the Great Man. “Almost forgot, Houdini. You’re in the Times this morning. Maplewhite, too. The society page. Well, you two want anything, food, whatnot, just ask one of the servants. The others should be back soon. Tea at four o’clock. Till then, enjoy yourselves, eh?”
Lord Bob left the room, as the Great Man looked over at me. “The Times?” I said.
His eyelashes fluttered. “I know nothing about it,” he said. He leaned forward and plucked up the folded newspaper that lay in the center of the table. He opened it, turned the pages. I waited.
He read silently. After a moment he began to smile with pleasure. Then he looked in my direction and he frowned. He said, “I had nothing to do with this, Phil.”
“Let me see it.”
He handed me the newspaper. I glanced over the society page until I found it. It was only one small paragraph in a long column, but it was enough. Viscount Purleigh will this weekend be entertaining Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of one of England’s, and the world’s, most popular fictional characters, Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. Also present at Maplewhite, the Devon estate of Lord Purleigh’s father, the Earl of Axminster, will be the famous American Escape Artist, Mr. Harry Houdini.
I closed the newspaper, folded it, tossed it to the table. This, I thought, was why he had been so cooperative. “Damn it, Harry,” I said.
He showed me the palms of his hands. “I did nothing, Phil.”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“It must have been Carlyle.” His manager.
“Uh-huh. And how did Carlyle know?”
“I cannot imagine. I shall telephone him. I shall tell him I am furious.”
He snatched up the newspaper, started to read it again.
“It’s a little late for that,” I said.
Still peering at the page, he said, “Why do you suppose they mentioned Sir Arthur first?”
“Harry, we’ve got more important things to worry about right now.”
He lowered the paper, looked at me. “But perhaps Chin Soo is not in England yet. And even if he is, perhaps he did not read the Times this morning.”
“Is that something you want to bet your life on?”
He frowned.
I reached into my pocket, took out my watch.
Ten-thirty.
“What are you thinking, Phil?” he asked me.
“Let’s say that Chin Soo is in England. Let’s say he’s in London. Let’s say he read the paper this morning. The earliest he could read it would be eight o’clock, maybe. Let’s say seven, to be on the safe side. I don’t know how many trains are running from London to Devon on a Saturday, but there can’t be that many. And the trip takes six or seven hours. So we’ve got a few hours of leeway.”
“Yes? And what do we do with them?”
“ We don’t do anything. You stay in your room.”
“Phil-”
“Just for a few hours, Harry. Read a book. Write a letter. Meanwhile, I’ll take a look around the grounds.”
“And why will you do that, Phil?”
“To see if I can figure out how he’s going to come at you.”
Chapter Eight
The Great Man and I went up the stairs and down the halls. He didn’t say anything, but his mouth was set in a thin petulant line and I knew that trouble was coming. When I closed the door to our suite, he turned to me. And on me.
“Phil,” he said. “This is entirely unfair. You are treating me as though I were a child.”
“It’s for your own good, Harry.”
“But you said yourself that we have a few hours of leeway.”
“Sounds like you’ve got something on your mind.”
He drew himself to his full height. “I refuse to stay here, cooped up in that tiny room.”
“Cooped up? Harry, you’re the guy who spends his time in coffins.”
“From which I can escape whenever I wish.” Somehow he managed to draw himself still taller. He shook his head. “No,” he said. “I refuse.”
“Harry, you told me-”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. He raised his strong chin. “I know what I told you. That I would do whatever you said, whenever it involved matters of security. But this does not. You’re insisting on this because you wish to punish me for that silly article in the Times.”
There was maybe some truth in what he said.
“That was Carlyle,” he announced. “I had nothing to do with it. If I had been responsible, the article would have been more than an insignificant little filler.”
I didn’t really believe that he was innocent, but I believed that, right now, he believed it. “So you’re suggesting what?”
“That I come along while you inspect the grounds.”
I shook my head. “It’s too open out there.”
“But Chin Soo is not there. He cannot be. You said so. And what if he is? Tell me, Phil, am I in any less danger inside the building? What about the Hotel Ardmore? Was it not you who pointed out that he nearly reached me there? What happens if he comes for me here, in my room, while you are outside?”
He had a point.
I walked over to the bed and sat down. I looked over at him. “Harry. Listen. Maybe it’s time to bring the cops in on this.”
“No. I told you. That is out of the question.”
“Or at least let me wire New York,” I said. “Have them send some people from London.”
“And how would I explain those? Shall we tell Lord Robert and Lady Alice that they are all my secretaries?”
“Why not just tell them the truth, tell them-”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Harry, why is seeing the grounds so damned important?”
“The grounds of Maplewhite are celebrated, Phil. The forest, the extensive lawn, the fabulous gardens.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and held them out to me. “Would you deny me a chance to see all these, to drink in their legendary beauty? And what will I say when people ask me about them? Shall I say that Houdini never saw them, because he was busy cowering in his room?”
I slipped my watch from my pocket. Ten minutes to eleven.
It was probably safe out there. Better to give way now, I told myself. If I did, maybe he would listen to me later, when it wasn’t safe.
“An hour or two,” he said. “Only an hour or two. And then we can return to the rooms.”
I sighed again. “Okay,” I said.
