Odor of Violets by Baynard Kendrick (books for 6 year olds to read themselves .TXT) đź“•
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- Author: Baynard Kendrick
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He reached out in the darkness, found the button to Cappo’s phone, and gave it a single ring.
When Cappo answered he said, “Come here, but leave the dog.”
Twice more he ran his finger over the stencil. When Cappo knocked at the door Maclain admitted him instantly.
“Listen carefully,” he told his chauffeur. “Do you know where they dispose of the trash here at The Crags?”
“Yessah,” said Cappo. “It’s down in the basement in a bin.”
“Have they emptied the wastebaskets today?”
“I don’t know, Captain. I can look.”
“That won’t do any good,” said Maclain hurriedly. “I’ll have to take a chance.”
He handed Cappo the advertising envelope and letter. “I want you to take these downstairs without anyone seeing you and throw them away in that bin. As soon as you’ve done that, I want you to take this Ediphone record to New York in the car and deliver it to Mr. Savage. You can drive it in three hours, can’t you?”
“Yessah,” said Cappo. “In nearer two.”
“Don’t get arrested,” Maclain cautioned him. “Keep this record beside you on the floor. If anyone stops you for any reason at all, smash it instantly.”
“Yessah,” said Cappo. He paused a moment and added, “Did you want someone to watch, Captain, to see who gets that letter out of the bin?”
“No,” said Maclain. “I’ll find out soon enough. Whoever gets that letter out of the bin is going to kidnap me.”
3
Dinner at The Crags was marred by an overwhelming mantle of nervous expectancy. At the head of the long table alight with the flicker of candles against cut glass and silver, Thaddeus Tredwill carved the roast. Each slice was cut with fine precision, laid upon a plate with studied care, and handed to Pierce to be served. Gil, Helena, Cheli Scott, and Stacy mutely watched. Sitting quietly at the right of his host, Duncan Maclain listened to the butler’s self-effacing steps passing behind his chair. It seemed as though the entire drama of murder and disappearance had distilled itself into one torturing hour, filling those at the table to satiety.
Maclain felt the urgent need of introducing conversation to break the terrible spell. “I’d like to drive into Hartford after dinner to register a letter, Mr. Tredwill. Would it inconvenience you if Dominick drove me in your car?”
“Certainly not.”
The Captain sensed the instant relief engendered in those present by his simple question. Down the table, Helena giggled at nothing. It sounded slightly out of place, like the laugh of an overwrought woman at a deathbed scene in a picture show.
Cheli Scott said quickly, “I’ll take you, Captain, if you don’t mind women drivers. I’m going in anyway.”
“Dominick can take you both.” Thaddeus put down the carving set and hitched his chair closer to the table.
“I wouldn’t be so impolite.” The Captain smiled. “To assure you of my faith in women in all professions, Miss Scott, I’ll be glad to have you take me in your car.”
“You have more nerve than I have,” Thaddeus told him. “Automobiles scare me to death, even when they’re driven by a chauffeur.”
“Cappo’s one of the best drivers I know,” Maclain remarked, “but that hasn’t saved me from having trouble with my car. He had to take it to town to have some work done late today.”
Pierce put a plate down in front of him and said, “I took the liberty, Captain, of cutting your meat for you.”
“You’re very kind.” The Captain picked up his fork and added, “I wish you’d take any message for me if Cappo happens to call.”
“Certainly, sir.” Pierce moved away.
Stacy asked without warning, “Which dog are you going to take in town?”
For the space of a breath the dining room was still. Then Helena spoke up with, “What do you mean? I didn’t know the Captain had two.”
“Dominick says there’s another one out in the garage,” the boy told her importantly. “Isn’t that so, Captain Maclain?”
The Captain moistened his lips with a sip of water, wiped them carefully with his napkin, and said, “Yes, that’s true, but Schnucke always goes with me. The other dog, Dreist, is somewhat in the nature of a spare. He’s not much good to guide me around, but he’s dangerous as a loaded gun.”
“Dangerous!” exclaimed the boy. “He looks just like Schnucke to me, and she’d never bite anyone.”
“Dreist’s trained for police work,” the Captain told him. “He can jump, run, and trail; and without any command on my part he’ll tear anyone to pieces the instant he sees me threatened with a gun. For that matter, I don’t need to be threatened. He attacks at the sight of a gun in anyone’s hand.”
“How about other weapons?” Stacy asked.
The Captain smiled. “He’ll attack anybody who hasn’t a weapon if I give him the command. He jumps up sideways behind their legs and knocks them over if they try to run. Football players call it clipping.”
“Gosh!” said Stacy admiringly. “I’d like to have a dog like that for my own.”
“I’m afraid you wouldn’t have many friends left,” said Duncan Maclain.
Immediately after dinner, he went upstairs to his room. There he took an almost flat automatic in a shoulder-holster rig from his Gladstone bag and started to put it on. With his arm through a loop he changed his mind, took the gun off, and put it in a bureau drawer.
As he left the bedroom, Thaddeus stopped him in the
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