The Bunch of Violets | Page 9

H. is getting strung up," thought Carrados. "He may say
something unfortunate presently." So he deftly insinuated himself into
the conversation and for a few minutes the commonplaces of the topic
were rigidly maintained.
"Care for a hand at auction?" suggested Darragh, joining the group. He
had no desire to, keep his guests a minute longer than he need, but at
the same time it was his line to behave quite naturally until they left.
"Oh, but I forgot-Mr. Carrados-"
"I am well content to sit and listen," Carrados assured him. "Consider

how often I have to do that without the entertainment of a game to
listen to! And you are four without me."
"It really hardly seems-" began Violet.
"I'm sure Max will feel it if he thinks that he is depriving us," put in
Hulse, loyally, so with some more polite protestation it was arranged
and the game began, Carrados remaining where he was. In the
circumstances a very high standard of bridge could not be looked for;
the calling was a. little wild; the play more than a little loose; the
laughter rather shrill or rather flat; the conversation between the hands
forced and spasmodic. All were playing for time in their several
interpretations of it; the blind man alone was thinking beyond the
immediate moment.
Presently there was a more genuine burst of laughter than any hitherto.
Kato had revoked, and, confronted with it, had made a na•ve excuse.
Carrados rose with the intention of going nearer when a distressing
thing occurred. Half-way across the room he seemed to slip, plunged
forward helplessly, and came to the floor, involved in a light table as he
fell. All the players were on their feet in an instant. Darragh assisted his
guest to rise- Violet took an arm; Kato looked about the floor curiously,
and Hulse--Hulse stared hard at Max and wondered what the thunder
this portended.
"Clumsy, clumsy," murmured Carrados beneath his breath. "Forgive
me, Miss Darragh."
"Oh, Mr. Carrados!" she exclaimed in genuine distress. "Aren't you
really hurt?"
"Not a bit of it," he declared lightly. "Or at all events," he amended,
bearing rather more heavily upon her support as he took a step,
"nothing to speak of."
"Here is pencil," said Kuromi, picking one up from the polished floor.
"You must have slipped on this."

"Stepping on a pencil is like that," contributed Hulse wisely. "It acts as
a kind of roller-skate."
"Please don't interrupt the game any more," pleaded the victim. "At the
most, at the very worst, it is only-oh!-a negligible strain."
"I don't know that any strain, especially of the ankle, is negligible, Mr.
Carrados," said Darragh with cunning foresight. "I think it perhaps
ought to be seen to."
"A compress when I get back will be all that is required," maintained
Carrados. "I should hate to break up the evening."
"Don't consider that for a moment," urged the host hospitably. "If you
re-ally think that it would be wiser in the end-"
"Well, perhaps-" assented the other, weakening in his resolution.
"Shall I 'Phone up a taxi?" asked Violet.
"Thank you, if you would be so kind-or, no; perhaps my own car would
be rather easier in the circumstances. My man will be about, so that it
will take very little longer."
"I'll get through for you," volunteered Darragh. "What's your number?"
The telephone was in a corner of the room. The connection was soon
obtained and Darragh turned to his guest for the message.
"I'd better speak," said Carrados,--he had limped across on Hulse's
arm-taking over the receiver. "Excellent fellow, but he'd probably
conclude that I'd been killed. . . . That you, Parkinson? . . . Yes, at 3155
Densham Gardens. I'm held up here by a slight accident. . . . No, no,
nothing serious, but I might have some difficulty in getting back
without assistance. Tell
Harris I shall need him after all, as soon as he can get here-the car that's
handiest. That's-oh, and, Parkinson, bring along a couple of substantial
walking-sticks with you. Any time now. That's all. . . . Yes . . . yes." He

put up the receiver with a thrill of satisfaction that he had got his
message safely through. "Held up" -a phrase at once harmless and
significant-was the arranged shift-key into code. It was easy for a blind
man to receive some hurt that held him up. Once or twice Carrados's
investigations had got him into tight places, but in one way or another
he had invariably got out again.
"How far is your place away?" someone asked, and out of the reply a
time-marking conversation on the subject of getting about London's
darkened streets and locomotion in general arose. Under cover of this
Kato drew Darragh aside to the deserted card-table.