Silent Nights by Martin Edwards Read Free Book Online

and lead me round the room. I shall stop by them! Something weird about this? Come on, Glover!”
    Eric Glover forced a smile which found no support in his eyes. A little muscle in his neck showed momentarily.
    The pair progressed slowly along the first wall. There was a pause as they turned. It was Mr Mullinger who began the second wall with slow, deliberate, shuffling steps.
    â€œHalt!” he called suddenly, and stopped at a point halfway across the width of the second wall.
    Glover’s gasp was lost in the triumph of the word. Mullinger tore off the bandage, stared at the floor, at the wall.
    ***
    There was no furniture at that point. But Mr Mullinger raised his eyes and smiled gently at a picture, massive, ancient, which graced the wall directly opposite where he stood.
    â€œOf course,” he chuckled. “Quite simple, really. I had expected somewhere more subtle. A hidden panel or something like that. Well, well!”
    There was a mild chaos as the others crowded around. Mr Mullinger had taken down the picture carefully. He released the twist-catches holding the wooden back in position, and forced out the sheet of shrivelled boarding. There was a fluttering of papers to the floor.
    â€œEighty-five pounds, I imagine,” said Mr Mullinger smoothly. “And securities to the value of another three hundred. The contents of the hotel safe robbed in the early hours of Christmas Eve morning .”
    â€œExtraordinary,” whispered Glover.
    â€œNothing extraordinary, really,” drawled Mr Mullinger. “You were good enough to explain your trick, so I’ll do the same. When you led me round the room. Glover, after the hiding of the wax fruit in the gramophone cabinet, you gave me the tip when I reached the spot with you holding my hand. Psychological reason, of course. You squeezed my hand slightly. Quite unconsciously, you squeezed it, though.
    â€œThe knowledge that we were at the very point where the object was hidden caused a keying up of your nervous system. Suspense, really. Your balance, as it were—will he stop or won’t he?—was affected. The suspense of the moment causes a contraction of your fingers holding mine. You see, it had to be someone leading me who knew when we would reach the object. THAT WAS WHY I CHOSE YOU AGAIN WHEN SETTING OUT TO DISCOVER WHERE THE PROCEEDS FROM THE SAFE HAD BEEN HIDDEN!”
    Glover started violently.
    â€œBy heaven, do you dare to suggest that I knew…that I—?”
    â€œYou and none other,” nodded Mr Mullinger. “You knew where the notes and securities had been hidden—naturally, seeing that you hid them there till opportunity offered to get them away from the hotel .”
    â€œIt is a lie,” grated Glover. He laughed harshly. “You can prove nothing, either.”
    â€œNo?” Mr Mullinger never took his hand from his pocket. He stared dispassionately at the pale face of the other. “The emptying of the glass trick over which you—again most obligingly—tumbled, was one I have done myself for the amusement of parties. I guessed you would know it, hence my affording you the opportunity.
    â€œYou see, Glover, fingerprints are easy to obtain. People leave them everywhere in normal actions. But knee-prints are more difficult to obtain. People don’t leave knee-prints about; it was difficult to establish comparison with the knee-prints the thief left on the polished floor about the safe!”
    Glover swore suddenly; his hand went swiftly behind him.
    â€œIt isn’t there,” said Mr Mullinger, gently. “I have it here, look! I abstracted it quite unostentatiously when you crawled on all fours to the table to empty the glass.”
    Glover stared ashen-faced at his own automatic, pointed steadily in the grasp of Mr Mullinger.
    â€œYou see,” pursued Mr Mullinger evenly, “I suspected you quite early. And from the fact that you haunted this room