“Right as to one point, but wrong on the other. Mrs. Beresford-you see I know all about you-Mrs. Beresford will not be brought here. That is a little precaution I took. It occurred to me that just probably your friends in high places might be keeping you shadowed. In that case, by dividing the pursuit, you could not both be trailed. I should still keep one in my hands. I am waiting now-”
He broke off, as the door opened. The chauffeur spoke.
“We’ve not been followed, sir. It’s all clear.”
“Good. You can go, Gregory.”
The door closed again.
“So far, so good,” said the ‘Duke.’ “And now what are we to do with you, Mr. Beresford Blunt?”
“I wish you’d take this confounded eyeshade off me,” said Tommy.
“I think not. With it on, you are truly blind-without it you would see as well as I do-and that would not suit my little plan. For I have a plan. You are fond of sensational fiction, Mr. Blunt. This little game that you and your wife were playing today proves that. Now I too have arranged a little game something rather ingenious, as I am sure you will admit when I explain it to you.
“You see, this floor on which you are standing is made of metal, and here and there on its surface are little projections. I touch a switch-so.” A sharp click sounded. “Now the electric current is switched on. To tread on one of those little knobs now means-death! You understand? If you could see . . . but you cannot see. You are in the dark. That is the game-Blindman’s Buff with death. If you can reach the door in safety-freedom! But I think that long before you reach it you will have trodden on one of the danger spots. And that will be very amusing-for me!”
He came forward and unbound Tommy’s hands. Then he handed him his cane with a little ironical bow.
“The blind Problemist. Let us see if he will solve this problem. I shall stand here with my pistol ready. If you raise your hands to your head to remove that eyeshade, I shoot. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly clear,” said Tommy. He was rather pale, but determined. “I haven’t got a dog’s chance, I suppose?”
“Oh! that-” the other shrugged his shoulders.
“Damned ingenious devil, aren’t you?” said Tommy. “But you’ve forgotten one thing. May I light a cigarette, by the way? My poor little heart’s going pit a pat.”
“You may light a cigarette-but no tricks. I am watching you, remember, with the pistol ready.”
“I’m not a performing dog,” said Tommy. “I don’t do tricks.” He extracted a cigarette from his case, then felt for a match box. “It’s all right. I’m not feeling for a revolver. But you know well enough that I’m not armed. All the same, as I said before, you’ve forgotten one thing.”
“What is that?”
Tommy took a match from the box, and held it ready to strike.
“I’m blind and you can see. That’s admitted. The advantage is with you. But supposing we were both in the dark- eh? Where’s your advantage then?”
He struck the match.
The ‘Duke’ laughed contemptuously.
“Thinking of shooting at the switch of the lights? Plunging the room into darkness? It can’t be done.”
“Just so,” said Tommy. “I can’t give you darkness. But extremes meet, you know. What about light?”
As he spoke, he touched the match to something he held in his hand, and threw it down upon the table.
A blinding glare filled the room.
Just for a minute, blinded by the intense white light, the ‘Duke’ blinked and fell back, his pistol hand lowered.
He opened his eyes again to feel something sharp pricking his breast.
“Drop that pistol,” ordered Tommy. “Drop it quick. I agree with you that a hollow cane is a pretty rotten affair. So I didn’t get one. A good sword stick is a very useful weapon, though. Don’t you think so? Almost as useful as magnesium wire. Drop that pistol.”
Obedient to the necessity of that sharp point, the man dropped it. Then, with a laugh, he sprang back.