Odor of Violets by Baynard Kendrick (books for 6 year olds to read themselves .TXT) 📕

me.” She looked at Gil. “I don’t like to pry, but will someone tell me what that man with a dog is doing upstairs in the hall?”

“He’s Captain Maclain, a detective,” Stacy volunteered eagerly. “He got here about an hour ago in his car. He’s trying to find out where Babs went. He was blinded in the last world war.”

“A blind man—” Cheli began incredulously.

“He’s world-famous,” said Thad. He spoke with automatic preciseness, as though he had determined to drop the one subject which had torn at his heart all day. “Maclain’s a challenge to any playwright, Cheli. Someday you should put him into a show. Humanity has become too dependent on the old phrase ‘seeing is believing.’ The Neanderthals knew what the four other senses could do. Without them man wouldn’t have survived until now.”

“Quite right, Mr. Tredwill.”

The group before the fire turned to see Captain Maclain standing in the doorway.

“Come in, Captain,” Thad said quickly. He started to ask a question, and added instead, “Cocktails will be along presently. Won’t you take a chair?”

Schnucke moved forward, eyeing the Tredwill family with canine dignity. Helena stood up, and the dog unerringly directed the Captain past the barrier of a library table to Helena’s proffered chair.

“I couldn’t help overhearing part of your remarks as I was crossing the hall,” Maclain apologized with a smile. He sat down and continued, “You mentioned the old phrase ‘seeing is believing.’ That’s a true statement, Mr. Tredwill. I can’t use my eyes. Will it surprise you to learn that I believe only what I can see?”

“You’ve already proved surprising in many ways, Captain Maclain.” Again Thad stopped just short of speaking impatiently.

“I’ll try to prove my contention.”

Schnucke watched her master settle back in the chair. Maclain gestured with his hand and she lay down beside him. “The unabridged dictionary gives more than a dozen definitions for see,” he announced. “Only the first two relate to the eyes. I depend on the others. Particularly on mental perception—definition number three. My vision is communicated to my brain through other mediums. I venture to say that, excluding color, it is just as clear as the vision accorded you.”

Gilbert said, “That’s a fascinating idea.”

“It’s true.” The Captain sat silent. He had the rare ability to relax utterly at will, to become almost a component part of lounge or chair. “There are five people here with me now,” he said after a time. “When I first arrived, an hour and twenty minutes ago, I was introduced to four. The young lady on the settee to my left passed me in the upstairs hall.”

“I’m Cheli Scott, a playwright, Captain Maclain. I’m visiting here.”

The Captain acknowledged the information with a nod and a smile. “You’re wearing a taffeta house coat, Miss Scott. You’re in your early twenties. You have a bracelet with bangles on your right wrist, and woven Mexican slippers on your feet. You’re holding a manuscript in your lap. You’re slender and about five foot seven or eight—more than average tall.”

Cheli laughed a trifle uncomfortably. “You must have questioned the trooper closely when I passed you in the upstairs hall.”

“Not at all,” said Captain Maclain. “Taffeta has a distinctive rustle, and house coats have zippers. You pulled yours up closer about your neck as you passed us upstairs. The house coat might have been a dress—except for its extra length swishing about your ankles, and the fact that you’re wearing Mexican house slippers. The weave of them creaks unmistakably.”

“What about her age?” Helena asked.

“Her voice,” said Maclain. “It’s young. Yours is too. The timbre changes with the years—just as the vocal cords alter with maturity. Stacy, on the bearskin rug at my feet, is still earmarked by his voice as a boy. Mr. Tredwill can never pass vocally for anything but a most mature man. In addition, the voice, more clearly than the face, expresses fear and hope, happiness and pain, excitement and calm.”

Stacy asked, “How did you know about the bearskin?”

“My feet are on it. I can touch the head with my toe. See? And the first time I came in the room Schnucke shied slightly away.”

“I suppose you heard the bracelet and the manuscript, too,” Cheli remarked with a reflective glance at her wrist. “But my height and weight? I still don’t understand.”

“The bracelet jingles only when you turn a page. You’ve been leafing them over unconsciously. That placed it on your right wrist. Your height and slenderness were comparatively simple. I counted your footsteps—then compared them with my own as I walked the length of the upstairs hall. I live in blackness, Miss Scott, but it frees me from many distractions of those who use their eyes to see.”

“And what, if anything,” asked Thaddeus, “did you see in my daughter’s room?”

“Nothing that can be of much value, I fear.” Maclain stood up. “This is very pleasant, but I have a little more exploring to do. Before we have cocktails, I’d like to have Mr. Tredwill take me down to his workshop.” He turned in Cheli’s direction. “You found Mrs. Tredwill this morning, Miss Scott. I wonder if you’d come too. The trooper arrived later, I believe. He wasn’t quite sure where Mrs. Tredwill fell.”

“Would she refuse?” Helena murmured as Cheli followed the two men from the room. She answered her own question softly, “Jamais de la vie!”

The Connecticut State Trooper joined them in the hall. He gave a polite nod to Gilbert and Cheli, and asked, “What are we up to now?”

“More looking around, Stinson,” said Maclain.

“I hope you find something,” Trooper Stinson replied. “I’ve been over this house three times today.”

“Why don’t you go?” asked Gil. “Mrs. Tredwill met with an accident, that’s all. There’s nothing to keep you here now.”

The trooper looked doubtful. “If you need me, Mr. Tredwill, I’ve orders to stay.” He hesitated and added, “But I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“About the accident?”

“That’s it, Captain,” said Stinson emphatically. “Trooper Halick and I got here early this morning in answer to a