The Shadow in the North Read Online Free PDF

sweating with fear, and his eyes were haunted. But then, damn him, he was a performer—that was his profession. . . .
    Mackinnon went on. "I came to myself after a few moments and found I was still holding the cigar case. Before I could put it down, the door of the music room opened and in came the very man I'd just seen. He was one of the guests—a big, powerful man, with smooth fair hair. He saw what I was holding and came up to take it from me, and our eyes met, and he knew what I'd seen. . . .

    "He didn't speak to me, because at the same moment a servant came into the room. He turned to the servant and said, *Thank you, I've found it now,' and with a last look at me, he went out again. But he knew.
    "I went through my performance that night, and everywhere I looked I seemed to see that sudden furious stabbing and the dark blood gushing out onto the snow. And his smooth, powerful face was looking at me all the time. Well, naturally, I didn't let my host down. The performance was a great success—I was generously applauded by everyone there; and several gentlemen were good enough to say that the great Maskelyne himself had never done better. When I'd finished, I gathered my materials and left at once instead of mingling politely with the guests, as I usually did. You see, I was beginning to be afraid of him.
    "Ever since then I've lived in fear of meeting him again. And one day recently that wee man with the glasses—^Windlesham—came to me and said that his employer would like to meet me. I knew who he meant, though he wouldn't say his name. And this evening he came again, with a gang this time—^well, you saw them, Jim. He said that he was obliged to take me to his employer to settle a question of mutual interest—that was how he put it.
    "They want to kill me. They're going to take me and kill me, I'm certain of it. What can I do, Mr. Garland? What can I do?"
    Frederick scratched his head.

    "You don't know the mans name?'* he said.
    "There were a lot of guests that night. I may have been told his name, but I can't remember. And Windle-sham wouldn't say."
    "What makes you think they want to kill you?"
    "This evening he said if I didn't agree to come with them after the show, there would be extremely serious consequences. If I were an ordinary person, I'd go into hiding. Change my name, perhaps. But I'm an artist! I have to be visible to earn my living! How can I hide? Half of London knows my name!"
    "That should make you safer, then," said Webster Garland. "Whoever he is, he'd hardly dare to harm you if you're in the full glare of public attention, siuely?"
    "Not this man. I've never seen such ruthlessness on any human face. And besides, he's got powerfiil friends—he's wealthy and well connected. I'm just a lowly conjurer. Oh, what can I do?"
    Suppressing the suggestion that came to his mind, Jim got up and left the room for a breath of fresh air. He was finding it more and more difficult to control his irritation with the man. It was hard to pin down why, but he'd seldom met anyone he disliked more.
    He sat in the backyard and shied bits of gravel through the unglazed window of the new studio Webster was having built until he heard a cab being called to the front door. When he thought Mackinnon had gone, he went back inside, where he found Webster lighting

    his pipe with a spill from the fire and Frederick winding the magnesium back into the pocket burner.
    Frederick looked up and said, "Nice little mystery, Jim. Why'd you get up and leave?"
    Jim flung himself down into the armchair. "He was getting on my nerves," he said. "And I don't know why, so don't ask. I wish I'd left him to it instead of risking me neck hauling him over the rooftops. / carina stand the heights! Oh, let me doon, let me doonlAnd his blooming snobbishness. Of course, Aim treated as quaite one of the guests. . . . Great shivering Tomnoddy. You ain't taken him on, have you, Fred? As a client, I mean?"
    "He didn't want to be taken