‘Yes,’ said Merton, ‘that is my idea. They will guess, too; but when they know the place is a private lunatic asylum their hypothesis is obvious.’
‘They’ll think that a patient is to be rescued?’
‘That will be their idea. And the old trick is a good trick. Cart of coals blocked in the gateway, or with another cart—the bigger the better—in the
lane. The men will dress accordingly. Others will have stolen to the back and sides of the house; you will, in short, stop the earths after I enter. Your brougham, after setting me down, will wait in Hammersmith Road, or whatever the road outside is.’
‘I may come?’ asked Trevor.
‘In command, as a coal carter.’
‘Hooray!’ said Trevor, ‘and I’ll tell you what, I won’t reconnoitre as a bargee, but as a servant out of livery sent to look for a cat at the Home. And I’ll mistake the asylum for the Home for Cats, and try to scout a little inside the gates.’
‘Capital,’ said Merton. ‘Then, later, I want you to go to a curiosity shop near the Museum’ (he mentioned the street), ‘and look into the window. You’ll see a little brown piece of wood like this.’ Merton sketched rapidly the piece of wood which Miss Markham wore under her dress. ‘The man has several. Buy one about the size of a big cigar for me, and buy one or two other trifles first.’
‘The man knows me,’ said Trevor, ‘I have bought things from him.’
‘Very good, but don’t buy it when any other customer is in the shop. And, by the way, take Mrs. Lumley’s portmanteau—the lock needs mending—to Jones’s in Sloane Street to be repaired. One thing more, I should like to add a few lines to that manuscript I gave you to keep in your safe.’