The Man in the Brown Suit Read Online Free PDF Page B

easily enough in five minutes if he wanted to -which he could do if he's the swell pickpocket you suggest.”
    I had not intended to suggest anything of the kind. But from this moment I gave the inspector up as hopeless.
    “Nothing more you can tell us about him?” he demanded, as I rose to depart.
    “Yes,” I said. I seized my opportunity to fire a parting shot. “His head was markedly brachycephalic. He will not find it so easy to alter that.”
    I observed with pleasure that Inspector Meadows's pen wavered. It was clear that he did not know how to spell brachycephalic.

The Man in the Brown Suit

Chapter 5
    In the first heat of indignation, I found my next step unexpectedly easy to tackle. I had had a half-formed plan in my head when I went into Scotland Yard. One to be carried out if my interview there was unsatisfactory (it had been profoundly unsatisfactory). That is, if I had the nerve to go through with it.
    Things that one would shrink from attempting normally are easily tackled in a flush of anger. Without giving myself time to reflect, I walked straight into the house of Lord Nasby.
    Lord Nasby was the millionaire owner of the Daily Budget. He owned other papers- several of them, but the Daily Budget was his special child. It was as the owner of the Daily Budget that he was known to every householder in the United Kingdom. Owing to the fact that an itinerary of the great man's daily proceedings had just been published, I knew exactly where to find him at this moment. It was his hour for dictating to his secretary in his own house.
    I did not, of course, suppose that any young woman who chose to come and ask for him would be at once admitted to the august presence. But I had attended to that side of the matter. In the card-tray in the hall of the Flemmings' house, I had observed the card of the Marquis of Loamsley, England's most famous sporting peer. I had removed the card, cleaned it carefully with bread-crumbs, and pencilled upon it the words: “Please give Miss Beddingfield a few moments of your time.” Adventuresses must not be too scrupulous in their methods.
    The thing worked. A powdered footman received the card and bore it away. Presently a pale secretary appeared. I fenced with him successfully. He retired defeated. He again reappeared and begged me to follow him. I did so. I entered a large room, a frightened-looking shorthand-typist fled past me like a visitant from the spirit-world. Then the door shut and I was face to face with Lord Nasby.
    A big man. Big head. Big face. Big moustache. Big stomach. I pulled myself together. I had not come here to comment on Lord Nasby's stomach. He was already roaring at me.
    “Well, what is it? What does Loamsley want? You are his secretary? What's it all about?”
    “To begin with,” I said with as great an appearance of coolness as I could manage, “I don't know Lord Loamsley, and he certainly knows nothing about me. I took his card from the tray in the house of the people I'm staying with, and I wrote those words on it myself. It was important that I should see you.”
    For a moment it appeared to be a toss up as to whether Lord Nasby had apoplexy or not. In the end he swallowed twice and got over it.
    “I admire your coolness, young woman. Well, you see me! If you interest me, you will continue to see me for exactly two minutes longer.”
    “That will be ample,” I replied. “And I shall interest you. It's the Mill House Mystery.”
    “If you've found 'The Man in the Brown Suit,' write to the Editor,” he interrupted hastily.
    “If you will interrupt, I shall be more than two minutes,” I said sternly. “I haven't found 'The Man in the Brown Suit,' but I'm quite likely to do so.”
    In as few words as possible I put the facts of the Tube accident and the conclusions I had drawn from them before him. When I had finished he said unexpectedly, “What do you know of brachycephalic heads?”
    I mentioned Papa.
    “The Monkey man? Eh? Well, you seem