The Crimson Blind

by Fred M. White

"Hensen had risen to his feet, pale and trembling, He protested, but it was all in vain. Bell approached the china wall-plug and pointed to it.

"Hold the candle down," he said. "There! You can see that the surface is still wet, there is water in the holes now, and some of it has trickled down the distemper on the wall. You ought to be shot where you stand, murderous dog."

Henson protested, with some dignity. It was all so much Greek to him, he said. He had been sleeping so quietly that he had not seen the light fail. Bell cut him short.

"Get out," he cried. "Go away; you poison the air that honest men breathe, and you are as fit and well as I am. Why don't you pitch him into the street, Steel? Why don't you telephone to Marley at the police-station, and say that the Huddersfield swindler is here? Oh, if you only knew what an effort it is to keep my hands off him!"

Henson made for the door with alacrity. A moment later and he was in the street, dazed, confused, and baffled, and with the conviction strong upon him that he had failed in his great coup. Van Sneck would be sensible to-morrow—he would speak. And then—

But he dared not think of that at present. He wanted all his nerve and courage now. He had just one last chance, one single opportunity of making money, and then he must get out of the country without delay. He almost wished now that he had not been quite so precipitate in the matter of James Merritt. That humble tool might have been of great advantage to him at this moment. But Merritt had threatened to be troublesome and must be got out of the way. But then, the police had not picked Merritt up yet. Was it possible that Merritt had found out that—

But Henson did not care to think of that, either, He would go back to the quiet lodgings he had taken in Kemp Town for a day or two, he would change his clothes and walk over to Longdean Grange, and it would go hard if he failed to get a cheque from the misguided lady there. If he were quick he could be there by eleven o'clock.

He passed into his little room. He started back to see a man sleeping in his armchair. Then the man, disturbed by the noise of the newcomer, opened his eyes. And those eyes were gleaming with a glow that filled Henson's heart with horrible dread. It was Merritt who sat opposite him, and it was Merritt whose eyes told Henson that he knew of the latter's black treachery. Henson was face to face with death, and he knew it.

He turned and fled for his life; he scudded along the streets, past the hospital and up towards the downs, with Merritt after him. The start was not long, but it was sufficient. Merritt took the wrong turn, and, with a heart beating fast and hard, Henson climbed upwards. It was a long time before his courage came back to him. He did not feel really easy in his mind until he had passed the lodge-gates at Longdean Grange, where he was fortunate enough, after a call or two, to rouse up Williams.

The latter came with more alacrity than usual. There was a queer grin on his face and a suggestion of laughter in his eyes.