The Man in the Brown Suit

I’d
recognized 
him
. It never occurred to him to wonder
what I was doing down there. A piece of sheer bad luck that was. I arranged it all so
carefully too, sending him off to Florence, telling the hotel I was going over to Nice for one
night or possibly two. Then, by the time the murder was discovered, I was back again in
Cannes, with nobody dreaming that I’d ever left the Riviera.”
He still spoke quite naturally and unaffectedly. I had to pinch myself to understand that
this was all real—that the man in front of me was really that deep-dyed criminal, the
“Colonel.” I followed things out in my mind.
“Then it was you who tried to throw me overboard on the 
Kilmorden,
” I said slowly. “It
was you that Pagett followed up on deck that night?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“I apologize, my dear child, I really do. I always liked you—but you were so
confoundedly interfering. I couldn’t have all my plans brought to naught by a chit of a girl.”
“I think your plan at the Falls was really the cleverest,” I said, endeavouring to look at
the thing in a detached fashion. “I would have been ready to swear anywhere that you were
in the hotel when I went out. Seeing is believing in future.”

---

“Yes, Minks had one of his greatest successes, as Miss Pettigrew, and he can imitate my
voice quite creditably.”
“There is one thing I should like to know.”
“Yes?”
“How did you induce Pagett to engage her?”
“Oh, that was quite simple. She met Pagett in the doorway of the Trade Commissioner’s
office or the Chamber of Mines, or wherever it was he went—told him I had phoned down
in a hurry, and that she had been selected by the Government department in question. Pagett
swallowed it like a lamb.”
“You’re very frank,” I said, studying him.
“There’s no earthly reason why I shouldn’t be.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. I hastened to put my own interpretation on it.
“You believe in the success of this Revolution? You’ve burnt your boats.”
“For an otherwise intelligent young woman, that’s a singularly unintelligent remark. No,
my dear child, I do not believe in this Revolution. I give it a couple of days longer and it
will fizzle out ignominiously.”
“Not one of your successes, in fact?” I said nastily.
“Like all women, you’ve no idea of business. The job I took on was to supply certain
explosives and arms—heavily paid for—to foment feeling generally, and to incriminate
certain people up to the hilt. I’ve carried out my contract with complete success, and I was
careful to be paid in advance. I took special care over the whole thing, as I intended it be
my last contract before retiring from business. As for burning my boats, as you call it, I
simply don’t know what you mean. I’m not the rebel chief, or anything of that kind—I’m a
distinguished English visitor, who had the misfortune to go nosing into a certain curioshop
—and saw a little more than he was meant to, and so the poor fellow was kidnapped.
Tomorrow, or the day after, when circumstances permit, I shall be found tied up
somewhere, in a pitiable state of terror and starvation.”
“Ah!” I said slowly. “But what about me?”
“That’s just it,” said Sir Eustace softly. “What about you? I’ve got you here—I don’t want
to rub it in in any way—but I’ve got you here very neatly. The question is, what am I going
to do with you? The simplest way of disposing of you—and, I may add, the pleasantest to
myself—is the way of marriage. Wives can’t accuse their husbands, you know, and I’d
rather like a pretty young wife to hold my hand and glance at me out of liquid eyes—don’t
flash them at me so! You quite frighten me. I see that the plan does not commend itself to
you?”

---

“It does not.”
Sir Eustace sighed.
“A pity! But I am no Adelphi villain. The usual trouble, I suppose. You love another, as
the books say.”
“I love another.”
“I thought as much—first I thought it was that long-legged, pompous ass, Race, but I
suppose it’s the young hero who fished you out of the Falls that night. Women have no taste.
Neither of those two have half the brains that I have. I’m such an easy person to
underestimate.”
I think he was right about that. Although I knew well enough the kind of man he was and
must be, I could not bring myself to realize it. He had tried to kill me on more than one
occasion, he had actually killed another woman, and he was responsible for endless other
deeds of which I knew nothing, and yet I was quite unable to bring myself into the frame of
mind for appreciating his deeds as they deserved. I could not think of him as other than our
amusing, genial, travelling companion. I could not even feel frightened of him—and yet I
knew he was capable of having me murdered in cold blood if it struck him as necessary.
The only parallel I can think of is the case of Stevenson’s Long John Silver. He must have
been much the same kind of man.
“Well, well,” said this extraordinary person, leaning back in his chair. “It’s a pity that the
idea of being Lady Pedler doesn’t appeal to you. The other alternatives are rather crude.”
I felt a nasty feeling going up and down my spine. Of course I had known all along that I
was taking a big risk, but the prize had seemed worth it. Would things turn out as I had
calculated, or would they not?
“The fact of the matter is,” Sir Eustace was continuing, “I’ve a weakness for you. I really
don’t want to proceed to extremes. Suppose you tell me the whole story, from the very
beginning, and let’s see what we can make of it. But no romancing, mind—I want the truth.”
I was not going to make any mistake over that. I had a great deal of respect for Sir
Eustace’s shrewdness. It was a moment for the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth. I told him the whole story, omitting nothing, up to the moment of my rescue by Harry.
When I had finished, he nodded his head in approval.
“Wise girl. You’ve made a clean breast of the thing. And let me tell you I should soon
have caught you out if you hadn’t. A lot of people wouldn’t believe your story, anyway,
expecially the beginning part, but I do. You’re the kind of girl who would start off like that
—at a moment’s notice, on the slenderest of motives. You’ve had amazing luck, of course,
but sooner or later the amateur runs up against the professional and then the result is a
foregone conclusion. I am the professional. I started on this business when I was quite a

---

youngster. All things considered, it seemed to me a good way of getting rich quickly. I
always could think things out and devise ingenious schemes—and I never made the mistake
of trying to carry out my schemes myself. Always employ the expert—that has been my
motto. The one time I departed from it I came to grief—but I couldn’t trust anyone to do that
job for me. Nadina knew too much. I’m an easygoing man, kindhearted and good-tempered
so long as I’m not thwarted. Nadina both thwarted me and threatened me—just as I was at
the apex of a successful career. Once she was dead and the diamonds were in my
possession, I was safe. I’ve come to the conclusion now that I bungled the job. That idiot
Pagett, with his wife and family! My fault—it tickled my sense of humour to employ the
fellow, with his Cinquecento poisoner’s face and his mid-Victorian soul. A maxim for you,
my dear Anne. Don’t let your sense of humour carry you away. For years I’ve had an instinct
that it would be wise to get rid of Pagett, but the fellow was so hardworking and
conscientious that I honestly couldn’t find an excuse for sacking him. So I let things drift.
“But we’re wandering from the point. The question is what to do with you. Your
narrative was admirably clear, but there is one thing that still escapes me. Where are the
diamonds now?”
“Harry Rayburn has them,” I said, watching him.
His face did not change, it retained its expression of sardonic good humour.
“H’m. I want those diamonds.”
“I don’t see much chance of your getting them,” I replied.
“Don’t you? Now I do. I don’t want to be unpleasant, but I should like you to reflect that a
dead girl or so found in this quarter of the city will occasion no surprise. There’s a man
downstairs who does those sort of jobs very neatly. Now, you’re a sensible young woman.
What I propose is this: you will sit down and write to Harry Rayburn, telling him to join
you here and bring the diamonds with him—”
“I won’t do anything of the kind.”
“Don’t interrupt your elders. I propose to make a bargain with you. The diamonds in
exchange for your life. And don’t make any mistake about it, your life is absolutely in my
power.”
“And Harry?”
“I’m far too tenderhearted to part two young lovers. He shall go free too—on the
understanding, of course, that neither of you interfere with me in the future.”
“And what guarantee have I that you will keep your side of the bargain?”
“None whatever, my dear girl. You’ll have to trust me and hope for the best. Of course, if
you’re in an heroic mood and prefer annihilation, that’s another matter.”

---

This was what I had been playing for. I was careful not to jump at the bait. Gradually I
allowed myself to be bullied and cajoled into yielding. I wrote at Sir Eustace’s dictation: