The Bunch of Violets | Page 2

as long as may be needful."
"That's curious, " said Flinders looking up quickly. "I didn't think that I
had mentioned his front name."
"I don't think that you have," agreed Carrados.
"Then how-? Had you heard of him before?Ó
"You don't give an amateur conjurer much chance," replied the other
whimsically. "When you brought me to this chair I found a table by me,
and happening to rest a hand on it my fingers had 'read' a line of writing
before I realised it-just as your glance might as unconsciously do," and
he held up an envelope addressed to Hulse.
"That is about the limit, exclaimed Flinders with some emphasis. "Do
you know, Carrados, if I hadn't always led a very blameless life I
should be afraid to have you around the place."
Thus it came about that the introduction was made and in due course

the two callers left together.
"You'll see, Mr. Carrados down, won't you?" Flinders had asked, and,
slightly puzzled but not disposed to question English ways, Hulse had
assented. In the passage Carrados laid a light hand on his companion's
arm. Through some subtle perception he read Hulse's mild surprise.
"By the way, I don't think that Flinders mentioned my infirmity," he
remarked. "This part of the building is new to me and I happen to be
quite blind."
"You astonish me," declared Hulse, and he had to be assured that the
statement was literally exact. "You don't seem to miss much by it, Mr.
Carrados. Ever happen to hear of Laura Bridgman?"
"Oh, yes," replied Carrados. "She was one of your star cases. But Laura
Bridgman's attainments really were wonderful. She was also deaf and
dumb, if you remember."
"That is so," assented Hulse. "My people come from New Hampshire
not far from Laura's home, and my mother had some of her needlework
framed as though it was a picture. That's how I come to know of her, I
reckon.Ó
They had reached the street meanwhile and Carrados heard the door of
his waiting car opened to receive him.
"I'm going on to my club now to lunch," he remarked with his hand still
on his companion's arm. "Of course we only have a wartime menu, but
if you would keep me company you would be acting the, Good
Samaritan," and Beringer Hulse, who was out to see as much as
possible of England, France and Berlin within the time-perhaps, also,
not uninfluenced by the appearance of the rather sumptuous vehicle-did
not refuse.
"Vurry kind of you to put it in that way, Mr. Carrados," he said, in his
slightly business-like, easy style. "Why, certainly I will."

During the following weeks Carrados continued to make himself very
useful to the visitor, and Hulse did not find his stay in London any less
agreeably varied thereby. He had a few other friends-acquaintances
rather-he had occasion now and then to mention, but they, one might
infer, were either not quite so expansive in their range of hospitality or
so pressing for his company. The only one for whom he had ever to
excuse himself was a Mr. Darragh, who appeared to have a house in
Densham Gardens (he was a little shrewdly curious as to what might be
inferred of the, status of a man who lived in Densham Gardens), and,
well, yes, there was Darragh's sister, Violet. Carrados began to take a
private interest in the Darragh household, but there was little to be
learned beyond the fact that the house was let furnished to the occupant
from month to month. Even during the complexities of war that fact
alone could not be regarded as particularly incriminating.
There came an evening when Hulse, having an appointment to dine
with Carrados and to escort him to a theatre afterwards, presented
himself in a mixed state of elation and remorse. His number had come
through at last, he explained, and he was to leave for Paris in the
morning. Carrados had been most awfully, most frightfully-Hulse
became quite touchingly incoherent in his anxiety to impress upon the
blind man the fullness of the gratitude he felt, but, all the same, he had
come to ask whether he might cry off for the evening. There was no
need to inquire the cause. Carrados raised an accusing finger and
pointed to the little bunch of violets with which the impressionable
young man had adorned his button-hole.
"Why, yes, to some extent," admitted Hulse, with a facile return to his
ingenuous, easy way. "I happened to see Miss Darragh down town this
afternoon. There's a man they know whom I've been crazy to meet for
weeks, a Jap who has the whole ju-jitsu business at his fingerends. Best
ju-jitsuist out of Japan, Darragh says. Mighty useful thing, ju-jitsu,
nowadays, Carrados."
"At