The Clue of the Twisted Candle [35]
you would only wait, sir," pleaded the agonized Fisher.
"Wait be hanged," snarled the other. "I've waited three years, I tell you. Tell Mr. Kara to expect me when he sees me!"
He went out and most unnecessarily banged the door behind him. Fisher went back to the library. The girl was sealing up some letters as he entered and looked up.
"I am afraid, Miss Holland, I've got myself into very serious trouble."
"What is that, Fisher!" asked the girl.
"There was a gentleman coming to see Mr. Kara, whom Mr. Kara particularly wanted to see."
"Mr. Gathercole," said the girl quickly.
Fisher nodded.
"Yes, miss, I couldn't get him to stay though."
She pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"Mr. Kara will be very cross, but I don't see how you can help it. I wish you had called me,"
"He never gave a chance, miss," said Fisher, with a little smile, "but if he comes again I'll show him straight up to you."
She nodded.
"Is there anything you want; miss?" he asked as he stood at the door.
"What time did Mr. Kara say he would be back?"
"At six o'clock, miss," the man replied.
"There is rather an important letter here which has to be delivered."
"Shall I ring up for a messenger?"
"No, I don't think that would be advisable. You had better take it yourself."
Kara was in the habit of employing Fisher as a confidential messenger when the occasion demanded such employment.
"I will go with pleasure, miss," he said.
It was a heaven-sent opportunity for Fisher, who had been inventing some excuse for leaving the house. She handed him the letter and he read without a droop of eyelid the superscription
"T. X. Meredith, Esq., Special Service Dept., Scotland Yard, Whitehall."
He put it carefully in his pocket and went from the room to change. Large as the house was Kara did not employ a regular staff of servants. A maid and a valet comprised the whole of the indoor staff. His cook, and the other domestics, necessary for conducting an establishment of that size, were engaged by the day.
Kara had returned from the country earlier than had been anticipated, and, save for Fisher, the only other person in the house beside the girl, was the middle-aged domestic who was parlour-maid, serving-maid and housekeeper in one.
Miss Holland sat at her desk to all appearance reading over the letters she had typed that afternoon but her mind was very far from the correspondence before her. She heard the soft thud of the front door closing, and rising she crossed the room rapidly and looked down through the window to the street. She watched Fisher until he was out of sight; then she descended to the hall and to the kitchen.
It was not the first visit she had made to the big underground room with its vaulted roof and its great ranges - which were seldom used nowadays, for Kara gave no dinners.
The maid - who was also cook - arose up as the girl entered.
"It's a sight for sore eyes to see you in my kitchen, miss," she smiled.
"I'm afraid you're rather lonely, Mrs. Beale," said the girl sympathetically.
"Lonely, miss!" cried the maid. "I fairly get the creeps sitting here hour after hour. It's that door that gives me the hump."
She pointed to the far end of the kitchen to a soiled looking door of unpainted wood.
"That's Mr. Kara's wine cellar - nobody's been in it but him. I know he goes in sometimes because I tried a dodge that my brother - who's a policeman - taught me. I stretched a bit of white cotton across it an' it was broke the next morning."
"Mr. Kara keeps some of his private papers in there," said the girl quietly, "he has told me so himself."
"H'm," said the woman doubtfully, "I wish he'd brick it up - the same as he has the lower cellar - I get the horrors sittin' here at night expectin' the door to open an' the ghost of the mad lord to come out - him that was killed in Africa."
Miss Holland laughed.
"I want you to go out now," she said, "I have no stamps."
Mrs. Beale obeyed with alacrity and whilst she was assuming a hat - being desirous of maintaining
"Wait be hanged," snarled the other. "I've waited three years, I tell you. Tell Mr. Kara to expect me when he sees me!"
He went out and most unnecessarily banged the door behind him. Fisher went back to the library. The girl was sealing up some letters as he entered and looked up.
"I am afraid, Miss Holland, I've got myself into very serious trouble."
"What is that, Fisher!" asked the girl.
"There was a gentleman coming to see Mr. Kara, whom Mr. Kara particularly wanted to see."
"Mr. Gathercole," said the girl quickly.
Fisher nodded.
"Yes, miss, I couldn't get him to stay though."
She pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"Mr. Kara will be very cross, but I don't see how you can help it. I wish you had called me,"
"He never gave a chance, miss," said Fisher, with a little smile, "but if he comes again I'll show him straight up to you."
She nodded.
"Is there anything you want; miss?" he asked as he stood at the door.
"What time did Mr. Kara say he would be back?"
"At six o'clock, miss," the man replied.
"There is rather an important letter here which has to be delivered."
"Shall I ring up for a messenger?"
"No, I don't think that would be advisable. You had better take it yourself."
Kara was in the habit of employing Fisher as a confidential messenger when the occasion demanded such employment.
"I will go with pleasure, miss," he said.
It was a heaven-sent opportunity for Fisher, who had been inventing some excuse for leaving the house. She handed him the letter and he read without a droop of eyelid the superscription
"T. X. Meredith, Esq., Special Service Dept., Scotland Yard, Whitehall."
He put it carefully in his pocket and went from the room to change. Large as the house was Kara did not employ a regular staff of servants. A maid and a valet comprised the whole of the indoor staff. His cook, and the other domestics, necessary for conducting an establishment of that size, were engaged by the day.
Kara had returned from the country earlier than had been anticipated, and, save for Fisher, the only other person in the house beside the girl, was the middle-aged domestic who was parlour-maid, serving-maid and housekeeper in one.
Miss Holland sat at her desk to all appearance reading over the letters she had typed that afternoon but her mind was very far from the correspondence before her. She heard the soft thud of the front door closing, and rising she crossed the room rapidly and looked down through the window to the street. She watched Fisher until he was out of sight; then she descended to the hall and to the kitchen.
It was not the first visit she had made to the big underground room with its vaulted roof and its great ranges - which were seldom used nowadays, for Kara gave no dinners.
The maid - who was also cook - arose up as the girl entered.
"It's a sight for sore eyes to see you in my kitchen, miss," she smiled.
"I'm afraid you're rather lonely, Mrs. Beale," said the girl sympathetically.
"Lonely, miss!" cried the maid. "I fairly get the creeps sitting here hour after hour. It's that door that gives me the hump."
She pointed to the far end of the kitchen to a soiled looking door of unpainted wood.
"That's Mr. Kara's wine cellar - nobody's been in it but him. I know he goes in sometimes because I tried a dodge that my brother - who's a policeman - taught me. I stretched a bit of white cotton across it an' it was broke the next morning."
"Mr. Kara keeps some of his private papers in there," said the girl quietly, "he has told me so himself."
"H'm," said the woman doubtfully, "I wish he'd brick it up - the same as he has the lower cellar - I get the horrors sittin' here at night expectin' the door to open an' the ghost of the mad lord to come out - him that was killed in Africa."
Miss Holland laughed.
"I want you to go out now," she said, "I have no stamps."
Mrs. Beale obeyed with alacrity and whilst she was assuming a hat - being desirous of maintaining