American Sherlocks by Nick Rennison (reading like a writer .TXT) 📕

capable of using a great deal of tact, aside from your warm sympathies. My colleague isn’t here now, and I am taking a great responsibility on my shoulders in giving you permission to see Miss Lund alone at such a time. She is a great actress, remember, and, if it is possible, we must give her back to the world with all of her splendid powers unimpaired. She is like a musical instrument of incredible delicacy, so, for Heaven’s sake, don’t handle her as if she were a hurdy-gurdy!’

‘Trust me,’ the famous detective said quietly.

‘Then wait,’ was the reply, and the physician hurried from the room.

Two or three minutes later he returned.

‘Come,’ he said. ‘I have prepared her – told her you are a specialist in psychology, which is true, of course, in one sense. You can tell her the truth later, if all goes well.’

III

Nick was led through a couple of sumptuously furnished rooms into the great Swedish actress’s presence.

Helga Lund was a magnificently proportioned woman, well above medium height, and about thirty years of age.

She wore a loose, filmy negligee of silk and lace, and its pale blue was singularly becoming to her fair skin and golden hair. Two thick, heavy ropes of the latter hung down far below her waist.

She was not merely pretty, but something infinitely better – she had the rugged statuesque beauty of a goddess in face and form.

She was pacing the floor like a caged lioness when Nick entered. Her head was thrown back and her hands were clasped across her forehead, allowing the full sleeves to fall away from her perfectly formed, milk-white arms.

‘Miss Lund, this is Mr Carter, of whom I spoke,’ Doctor Lightfoot said gently. ‘He believes he can help you. I shall leave you with him, but I will be within call.’

He withdrew softly and closed the door. They were alone.

The actress turned for the first time, and a pang shot through the tender-hearted detective as he saw the tortured expression of her face.

She nodded absent-mindedly, but did not speak.

‘Miss Lund,’ the detective began, ‘I trust you will believe that I would not have intruded at this time if I hadn’t believed that I might possibly possess the key to last night’s unfortunate occurrence, and that –’

‘You – the key? Impossible, sir!’ the actress interrupted, in the precise but rather labored English which she had acquired in a surprisingly short time in anticipation of her American tour.

‘We shall soon be able to tell,’ Nick replied. ‘If I am wrong, I assure you that I shall not trouble you any further. If I am right, however, I hope to be able to help you. In any case, you may take it for granted that I am not trying to pry into your affairs. I have seen you on the stage more than once, both here and abroad. It is needless to say that I have the greatest admiration for your genius. Beyond that I know nothing about you, except what I have read.’

‘Then, will you explain – briefly? You see that I am in no condition to talk.’

‘I see that talking, of the right kind, would be the best thing for you, if the floodgates could be opened, Miss Lund,’ Nick answered sympathetically. ‘I shall do better than explain; with your permission, I shall ask you a question.’

‘What is it?’

‘Simply this: Are you acquainted with a New York surgeon who goes by the name of Doctor Grantley – Hiram A Grantley?’

The actress, who had remained standing, started slightly at the detective’s words. Her bosom rose and fell tumultuously, and her clenched hands were raised to it, as Ida Jones had described them.

A look of mingled amazement and fright overspread her face.

Nick did not wait for her to reply, nor did he tell her that it was unnecessary. Nevertheless, he had already received his answer and it gave him the greatest satisfaction.

He was on the right track.

‘Before you reply, let me say this,’ he went on quickly, in order to convince her that she had nothing to fear from him: ‘Grantley is one of the worst criminals living, and it is solely because our laws are still inadequate in certain ways that he is alive today. As it is, he is a fugitive, an escaped prisoner, with a long term still to serve. He escaped last night, but he will undoubtedly be caught soon, despite his undeniable cleverness, and returned to the cell which awaits him. Now you may answer, if you please.’

He was, of course, unaware of the extent of Helga Lund’s knowledge of Grantley. It might not be news to her, but he wished – in view of the actress’ evident fear of Grantley – to prove to her that he himself could not possibly be there in the surgeon’s interest.

His purpose seemed to have been gained. Unless he was greatly mistaken, a distinct relief mingled with the surprise which was stamped on Helga’s face.

‘He is a – criminal, you say?’ she breathed eagerly, leaning forward, forgetful that she had not admitted any knowledge of Grantley at all.

‘You do not know what has happened to Doctor Grantley here in the last year?’

‘No,’ was the reply. ‘I have never been in America before, and I have never even acted in England. I do not read the papers in English.’

‘You met Grantley abroad, then, some years ago, perhaps?’

The actress realized that she had committed herself. She delayed for some time before she replied, and when she did, it was with a graceful gesture of surrender.

‘I will tell you all there is to tell, Mr Carter,’ she said, ‘if you will give me your word as a gentleman that the facts will not be communicated to the newspapers until I give you permission. Will you? I think I have guessed your profession, but I am sure I have correctly gauged your honor.’

‘I promise you that no word will find its way, prematurely, into print through me,’ Nick declared readily. ‘I am a