urth dimension. But why do you beg my pardon, Louis?"
"I am an ex-solicitor, struck off in connexion with the falsifying of
a trust account, Mr. Carrados," replied Carlyle, rising.
"Sit down, Louis," said Carrados suavely. His face, even his
incredibly living eyes, beamed placid good-nature. "The chair on which
you will sit, the roof above you, all the comfortable surroundings to
which you have so amiably alluded, are the direct result of falsifying
a trust account. But do I call you 'Mr. Carlyle' in consequence?
Certainly not, Louis."
"I did not falsify the account," cried Carlyle hotly. He sat down
however, and added more quietly: "But why do I tell you all this? I
have never spoken of it before."
"Blindness invites confidence," replied Carrados. "We are out of the
running--human rivalry ceases to exist. Besides, why shouldn't you? In
my case the account _was_ falsified."
"Of course that's all bunkum, Max" commented Carlyle. "Still, I
appreciate your motive."
"Practically everything I possess was left to me by an American
cousin, on the condition that I took the name of Carrados. He made his
fortune by an ingenious conspiracy of doctoring the crop reports and
unloading favourably in consequence. And I need hardly remind you that
the receiver is equally guilty with the thief."
"But twice as safe. I know something of that, Max ... Have you any
idea what my business is?"
"You shall tell me," replied Carrados.
"I run a private inquiry agency. When I lost my profession I had to do
something for a living. This occurred. I dropped my name, changed my
appearance and opened an office. I knew the legal side down to the
ground and I got a retired Scotland Yard man to organize the outside
work."
"Excellent!" cried Carrados. "Do you unearth many murders?"
"No," admitted Mr. Carlyle; "our business lies mostly on the
conventional lines among divorce and defalcation."
"That's a pity," remarked Carrados. "Do you know, Louis, I always had
a secret ambition to be a detective myself. I have even thought lately
that I might still be able to do something at it if the chance came my
way. That makes you smile?"
"Well, certainly, the idea----"
"Yes, the idea of a blind detective--the blind tracking the alert--"
"Of course, as you say, certain facilities are no doubt quickened,"
Mr. Carlyle hastened to add considerately, "but, seriously, with the
exception of an artist, I don't suppose there is any man who is
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