The Man in the Brown Suit

Thirty-three
I
was not summoned to Sir Eustace’s presence until late in the afternoon. Eleven-o’clock
tea and a substantial lunch had been served to me in my own apartment, and I felt fortified
for further conflict.
Sir Eustace was alone. He was walking up and down the room, there was a gleam in his
eye and a restlessness in his manner which did not escape me. He was exultant about
something. There was a subtle change in his manner towards me.
“I have news for you. Your young man is on his way. He will be here in a few minutes.
Moderate your transports—I have something more to say. You attempted to deceive me this
morning. I warned you that you would be wise to stick to the truth, and up to a certain point
you obeyed me. Then you ran off the rails. You attempted to make me believe that the
diamonds were in Harry Rayburn’s possession. At the time I accepted your statement
because it facilitated my task—the task of inducing you to decoy Harry Rayburn here. But,
my dear Anne, the diamonds have been in my possession ever since I left the Falls—though
I only discovered the fact yesterday.”
“You know!” I gasped.
“It may interest you to hear that it was Pagett who gave the show away. He insisted on
boring me with a long pointless story about a wager and a tin of films. It didn’t take me long
to put two and two together—Mrs. Blair’s distrust of Colonel Race, her agitation, her
entreaty that I would take care of her souvenirs for her. The excellent Pagett had already
unfastened the cases through an excess of zeal. Before leaving the hotel, I simply transferred
all the rolls of films to my own pocket. They are in the corner there. I admit that I haven’t
had time to examine them yet, but I notice that one is of a totally different weight to the
others, rattles in a peculiar fashion, and has evidently been stuck down with seccotine,
which will necessitate the use of a tin opener. The case seems clear, does it not? And now,
you see, I have you both nicely in the trap . . . It’s a pity that you didn’t take kindly to the
idea of becoming Lady Pedler.”
I did not answer. I stood looking at him.
There was the sound of feet on the stairs, the door was flung open, and Harry Rayburn
was hustled into the room between two men. Sir Eustace flung me a look of triumph.
“According to plan,” he said softly. “You amateurs 
will
pit yourselves against
professionals.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” cried Harry hoarsely.

---

“It means that you have walked into my parlour—said the spider to the fly,” remarked Sir
Eustace facetiously. “My dear Rayburn, you are extraordinarily unlucky.”
“You said I could come safely, Anne.”
“Do not reproach her, my dear fellow. That note was written at my dictation, and the lady
could not help herself. She would have been wiser not to write it, but I did not tell her so at
the time. You followed her instructions, went to the curioshop, were taken through the secret
passage from the back room—and found yourself in the hands of your enemies!”
Harry looked at me. I understood his glance and edged nearer to Sir Eustace.
“Yes,” murmured the latter, “decidedly you are not lucky! This is—let me see, the third
encounter.”
“You are right,” said Harry. “This is the third encounter. Twice you have worsted me—
have you never heard that the third time the luck changes? This is my round—cover him,
Anne.”
I was all ready. In a flash I had whipped the pistol out of my stocking and was holding it
to his head. The two men guarding Harry sprang forward, but his voice stopped them.
“Another step—and he dies! If they come any nearer, Anne, pull the trigger—don’t
hesitate.”
“I shan’t,” I replied cheerfully. “I’m rather afraid of pulling it, anyway.”
I think Sir Eustace shared my fears. He was certainly shaking like a jelly.
“Stay where you are,” he commanded, and the men stopped obediently.
“Tell them to leave the room,” said Harry.
Sir Eustace gave the order. The men filed out, and Harry shot the bolt across the door
behind them.
“Now we can talk,” he observed grimly, and, coming across the room, he took the
revolver out of my hand.
Sir Eustace uttered a sigh of relief and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.
“I’m shockingly out of condition,” he observed. “I think I must have a weak heart. I am
glad that revolver is in competent hands. I didn’t trust Miss Anne with it. Well, my young
friend, as you say, now we can talk. I’m willing to admit that you stole a march upon me.
Where the devil that revolver came from I don’t know. I had the girl’s luggage searched
when she arrived. And where did you produce it from now? You hadn’t got it on you a
minute ago?”
“Yes, I had,” I replied. “It was in my stocking.”
“I don’t know enough about women. I ought to have studied them more,” said Sir Eustace

---

sadly. “I wonder if Pagett would have known that?”
Harry rapped sharply on the table.
“Don’t play the fool. If it weren’t for your grey hairs, I’d throw you out of the window.
You damned scoundrel! Grey hairs, or no grey hairs, I—”
He advanced a step or two, and Sir Eustace skipped nimbly behind the table.
“The young are always so violent,” he said reproachfully. “Unable to use their brains,
they rely solely on their muscles. Let us talk sense. For the moment you have the upper hand.
But that state of affairs cannot continue. The house is full of my men. You are hopelessly
outnumbered. Your momentary ascendancy has been gained by an accident—”
“Has it?”
Something in Harry’s voice, a grim raillery, seemed to attract Sir Eustace’s attention. He
stared at him.
“Has it?” said Harry again. “Sit down, Sir Eustace, and listen to what I have to say.” Still
covering him with the revolver, he went on: “The cards are against you this time. To begin
with, listen to