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Page 17
"But in the whole of your knowledge of Sir Charles," cried
Harley, exhibiting a certain irritation, "have you ever known him
to suffer from delusions of that kind or any other?"
"Never," replied the physician, firmly; "but once a man has had
the sun one cannot tell."
"Ah!" said Harley. "Good-night, Doctor McMurdoch."
When presently he left the house, carrying a brown leather bag
which he had borrowed from the butler, he knew that rightly or
wrongly his own opinion remained unchanged in spite of the
stubborn opposition of the Scottish physician. The bogus message
remained to be explained, and the assault in the square, as did
the purpose of the burglar to whom gold and silver plate made no
appeal. More important even than these points were the dead man's
extraordinary words: "Fire-Tongue"--"Nicol Brinn." Finally and
conclusively, he had detected the note of danger outside and
inside the house; and now as he began to cross the square it
touched him again intimately.
He looked up at the darkened sky. A black cloud was moving slowly
overhead, high above the roof of the late Sir Charles Abingdon;
and as he watched its stealthy approach it seemed to Paul Harley
to be the symbol of that dread in which latterly Sir Charles's
life had lain, beneath which he had died, and which now was
stretching out, mysterious and menacing, over himself.
CHAPTER IV. INTRODUCING MR. NICOL BRINN
At about nine o'clock on the same evening, a man stood at a large
window which overlooked Piccadilly and the Green Park. The room
to which the window belonged was justly considered one of the
notable sights of London and doubtless would have received
suitable mention in the "Blue Guide" had the room been accessible
to the general public. It was, on the contrary, accessible only
to the personal friends of Mr. Nicol Brinn. As Mr. Nicol Brinn
had a rarely critical taste in friendship, none but a fortunate
few had seen the long room with its two large windows overlooking
Piccadilly.
The man at the window was interested in a car which, approaching
from the direction of the Circus, had slowed down immediately
opposite and now was being turned, the chauffeur's apparent
intention being to pull up at the door below. He had seen the
face of the occupant and had recognized it even from that
elevation. He was interested; and since only unusual things
aroused any semblance of interest in the man who now stood at the
window, one might have surmised that there was something unusual
about the present visitor, or in his having decided to call at
those chambers; and that such was indeed his purpose an upward
glance which he cast in the direction of the balcony sufficiently
proved.
The watcher, who had been standing in a dark recess formed by the
presence of heavy velvet curtains draped before the window, now
opened the curtains and stepped into the lighted room. He was a
tall, lean man having straight, jet-black hair, a sallow
complexion, and the features of a Sioux. A long black cigar
protruded aggressively from the left corner of his mouth. His
hands were locked behind him and his large and quite
expressionless blue eyes stared straight across the room at the
closed door with a dreamy and vacant regard. His dinner jacket
fitted him so tightly that it might have been expected at any
moment to split at the seams. As if to precipitate the
catastrophe, he wore it buttoned.
There came a rap at the door.
"In!" said the tall man.
The door opened silently and a manservant appeared. He was
spotlessly neat and wore his light hair cropped close to the
skull. His fresh-coloured face was quite as expressionless as
that of his master; his glance possessed no meaning. Crossing to
the window, he extended a small salver upon which lay a visiting
card.
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