The Reader Is Warned

he turned round to Mina in the doorway of the bathroom.

All this time Mina's yellowish-tinged eyes were watching him.

'Uh-huh. What room is on the floor under this, ma'am?' 'Under us? The dining-room.'

'I see. Now, let's go back to Friday night. You and your husband came up here at seven-thirty, hey? What'd he do then?'

'He had his bath and started to dress.' 'Where were you at that time?' 'Inhere.' ‘In here?'

'Yes. Parker (that's his man, you see) was in hospital, so I had to lay out his dinner things and put the studs and cufflinks in his shirt. It took rather a time. My hands -' She stopped.

'Go on, ma'am.'

'He was about half-dressed, and I was tying his shoes for him-'

'So ? Couldn't he tie his own shoes ?'

'He had vertigo, poor old boy. He couldn't bear to lean over like that.' She looked at the wardrobe and shut her jaws hard; it was evidently her worst moment so far. 'I was just doing that when we heard that terrible crash. I said, 'That's in the next room.' He said, 'No, it isn't; that's my great-grandmother's lamp, and it's in that young fool doctor's room.' (Dr Sanders isn't really, but Sam had hoped he would come down here and expose Pennik, and he was disappointed. I know how he felt now. But you needn't worry, Sam. It'll be taken care of.)'

For a moment, looking at her, Sanders had a feeling that was not far removed from eerie.

'He said he was going to see what's what. He put on his dressing-gown and went out. In a minute or so he was back again. He said that Hilary Keen and Dr Sanders were -' Then she seemed to wake up. 'I beg your pardon, Doctor! I didn't notice. There Was nothing to it, anyhow. Well, anyway, when I had got him into his shirt he told me to go on, go on, get myself dressed; or I should be late. He would tie his own tie, because my hands weren't good for that.' She smiled sadly. 'I went to my room. In a few minutes I heard him brushing his coat. Then he said he was going downstairs. I said, 'All right, dear.' When I heard the door close I remembered about the two clean handkerchiefs. You must know what happened then. I've told it, told it, told it, over and over and over. Must I tell it again ?' ‘No,’ said H. M.

He stood broad and straddle-legged in the middle of the room, his fists on his hips. He had listened quietly, but there was a faintly sinister expression round the corners of his down-turned mouth, and it seemed even to shine from his bald head. He sniffed.

'Humph,' said H-M. 'I say, son.' He turned to Sanders. 'I don't like to bend over either, which is 'cause I'm fat.' He pointed. 'Down there on the floor, by the castor at the foot of the bed. And over near where Mrs Constable is standin'. Scrooch down and get a good look and tell me what it is.' 'It looks,' answered Sanders, examining the carpet, 'like spots of wax.'

'Wax!' said H. M., scratching the side of his nose. 'So?'

Again he looked round. On the chest of drawers, at opposite ends, stood two china candlesticks each containing a (purely ornamental) greenish candle. H. M. lumbered over to them. He put his hand on the top of each.

'Cold,' he said. 'All the same, somebody has been burnin' these candles. Both of'em. Look at the tops. Have you been burnin' 'em, Mrs Constable?'

'Good heavens, no!'

'Haven't been having any trouble with the lights, or anything?' 'No, certainly not.'

'But somebody's been burnin' 'em,' persisted H. M. 'Wouldn't you know ?'

'I'm afraid not. I haven't noticed anything, much.' She pressed her hands over her face. 'But does it tell you anything? Why does it matter?'

'Because it's rummy,' said H. M. 'It's the only rumm? or out-of-place thing in a smooth, ordered room and a smooth, ordered bit of dirty work. Somebody walks about with a pair of lighted candles in a place where there're already enough lights to equip Piccadilly Circus. And just outside this door a bloke throws a fit with nobody near him, and dies. Oh, my eye! And besides -'

Mina Constable showed a pale face of resolution.

'Have you finished, Sir Henry?'

'I'm afraid so. For now, anyhow.'

'I haven't finished,' said Mina, smiling her nervous and sympathetic smile. 'On the contrary, I am going to begin. I will show you. Will you come downstairs with me, please?'

Sanders had no idea what was on her mind. Neither, evidently, had H. M. In silence they went out and downstairs. Mina walked straight to the drawing-room, whose double doors were now wide open. Under a snaky- glowing chandelier Masters sat with his notebook on his knee, writing laboriously. Lawrence Chase watched him. Both looked up in surprise when Mina stalked in, but she paid no attention to them. On a table near the bay- windows was a telephone.

Taking it off the rest, she put it down on the table. Then, steadying her right wrist with the grip of her left hand, she began to spin the dial. There was a certain expression about her face.

'T-O-L,' spelled Mina with concentration. She picked up die phone again.

Masters jumped up from his chair.

'Excuse me,' he said. 'You're Mrs Constable, aren't you? Just so! Would you mind telling me what you're doing?'

'What's that?' inquired Mina, turning a bright and pleasant but determined face over her shoulder. She looked back again. 'Toll? I want to put through a call to London, please. This is Grovetop three-one. I want Central nine- eight-seven-six. Yes, please ... What did you say?'

Masters was beside her with remarkable strides.

'I asked what you were doing, Mrs Constable.'

'I'm ringing the Daily Non-Stop. I know the literary editor; I did some articles for them once. I don't know anybody else on the staff, but he can tell me whom I should speak to.

Excuse me ... Hello? Daily Non-Stop? May I speak to Mr Burton, please?'

'Half a tick,' said Masters grimly. He put down a large finger on the hook and cut off the connexion with a click. 'I'm sorry, Mrs Constable.'

Mina looked up.

'Do you mean to say,' she asked, 'that I can't put through a telephone call from my own house?'

'Of course you can, Mrs Constable. Of co-ourse,' beamed Masters, with windy heartiness and deprecation. 'Only -well, you know, wouldn't you rather see us, first? Eh? We're old hands at this. Maybe we could advise you. What did you want to tell them?'

Mina did not flare out at him. She looked wizened and not altogether attractive under that harsh light; her manner was detached, but she kept tight hold of the receiver and pressed it against her breast.

'You must be Chief Inspector Masters,' she said. 'Tell me. What is the worst insult you know ?'

'All! Hard to say, that,' said Masters wisely. 'If you're, thinking of applying it to me -'

'I was thinking of applying it to Herman Pennik.' She looked thoughtful. 'My husband always used to make him jump, on a certain subject. I wonder why ? But we can begin with Fake, capital F, and plain bounder.'

'If you'd just let me have that phone, Mrs Constable? ... A-ah! Thank you. There we are! Eh?

Mina let go. She looked round. There was perhaps nobody in that room who did not feel his heart contract with pity at the expression on her face.

'I've been through hell,' she said. 'For God's sake give me my little chance to hit back.'

Then her eyes overflowed.

The phone clinked and jingled as Masters fitted back the receiver in a vast silence. Through the tall open window in the bay, cool air stirred and drifted. ‘

'I know, ma'am, I know,' said Masters with hearty sympathy. 'But that's no way to do it, is it? I mean, you can't just ring up a newspaper and call a man names; now can you?'

'I don't propose to do that.' 'No?'

'No. So,' she went on in a very quiet voice, 'Mr Herman Pennik claims he can use thought as a weapon, does he? Silly little liar. You see, my husband was a fairly wealthy man. And I'm going to do what Sam would have wanted me to do. Sam, who was never afraid of anything or anybody in his life. All right: let the toad Pennik try out his weapon on me. I challenge him. That's what I wanted to tell Mr Burton. I'll call his bluff. Just let him try to kill me. If he can do it, everything I've got goes to any charity you want to name. But it won't. I'm simply calling his