Mr. Zero by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online Page A

again.
    â€œI don’t know what you mean.”
    â€œNo—my fault—sorry. Back to the infant class again. Your husband’s man stays in the dressing-room all the time?”
    â€œOh, yes.”
    â€œWell, what happens at night? What does he do with the keys then?”
    â€œHe puts them under his pillow.”
    Mr. Zero said briskly,
    â€œA very prudent habit. And is he a sound sleeper?”
    â€œOh, yes, very.”
    â€œThen it is all quite easy. You wait till he is asleep, you take the keys from under the pillow, and you come downstairs and open the left-hand dining-room window—the one on your own left as you come into the room. You will give me the keys out of the window.”
    â€œOh no—I couldn’t!”
    â€œYou will give me the keys, and you will wait till I give them back to you. I shall only be a few minutes. Then I will give them to you again, and you will put them back under your husband’s pillow. It is all as simple as eating bread and milk. I shall be waiting by the dining-room window from one to two tomorrow night, and you will bring me the keys then.”
    â€œI don’t think I can,” said Sylvia in a weak and yielding voice.

VII
    Mr. Montagu Lushington looked up at the sound of the opening door. He was sitting at a writing-table in the study of his own house. He was rather a handsome man with a noticeable crop of grey hair, and hazel eyes which could be shrewd, dreamy, or restless. They were restless now. He drummed with his fingers on the arm of his chair and said,
    â€œCome in and shut the door, Algy.”
    Algy Somers wondered what he had done. There had been signs of dirty weather all the week, but this had the appearance of a gale warning to all coasts.
    â€œSit down,” said Mr. Lushington.
    Algy began to wonder if he was going to get the sack. Only if Monty was going to sack him, would he ask him to sit down? He said,
    â€œYes, sir?”
    Mr. Lushington leaned back. The movement was an impatient one.
    â€œWhat sort of memory have you got, Algy?”
    Dismay invaded Algy’s mind. What had he forgotten? He said modestly,
    â€œOh, I don’t know—pretty fair as a rule. I hope I haven’t been forgetting anything, sir.”
    Mr. Lushington frowned.
    â€œThat remains to be seen. I want you to cast your mind back to last Saturday.”
    Algy’s mind went back to a very pleasant evening spent with Miss Gay Hardwicke. He had no difficulty in recalling the agreeable details, but it did not seem at all likely that they would interest Monty. He said,
    â€œSaturday, sir?”
    â€œLast Saturday I went away for the week-end. I went down to Wellings to stay with the Wessex-Gardners, and just before I started a special messenger turned up with a memorandum which I had asked for from the Intelligence. Now take over and tell me exactly what happened. Who saw the messenger?”
    â€œMr. Carstairs saw him, sir.”
    â€œI want you to go over the whole thing—I want every detail.”
    â€œMr. Carstairs and I were in here. Mr. Carstairs had just come down from seeing you. Parkinson came in and said there was a messenger, and Carstairs—Mr. Carstairs—went to the door and took the letter. He was going up with it, but the telephone bell rang, and it was someone for him, so he told me to take the letter.”
    Mr. Lushington drummed with his fingers.
    â€œOne moment, one moment. Were you and Carstairs alone? Where was Brewster?”
    â€œOh, he was somewhere around.”
    â€œCan’t you be accurate? What on earth do you mean by somewhere around?”
    â€œWell, he was in the offing, don’t you know, sir? Nose to the grindstone and all that sort of thing.”
    â€œYou mean he was in this room?”
    â€œOh, yes—definitely.”
    â€œBut he didn’t handle the letter?”
    â€œOh, no, sir.”
    â€œDid you see Carstairs take the letter from the