Lady in the DarkFrom the other side of the road he saw the only lighted window on the third floor go black. His eyes came down to the big door, the entrance to the building. The light came warmly through there into the cold of the evening.After a lit

Lady in the DarkFrom the other side of the road he saw the only lighted window on the third floor go black. His eyes came down to the big door, the entrance to the building. The light came warmly through there into the cold of the evening.After a little time a girl passed through the door, stopped at the top of the steps and pulled her coat close round her. He watched her come down the steps, turn to the left and disappear along the road. He had plenty of time. He knew that she would be gone for two hours. He knew a great many things. It wasn’t difficult to find out all you wanted to know so long as you took your time and were sensible. He crossed the road. He went past the main entrance, turned the corner of the building and went in at a side door. There was a staircase there used by the servants. He climbed up to the third floor. Then he pushed open a small door. He came out into a brightly lit passage. At the end of the passage there was a door; on a plate on the door he could read “Mrs. Walter Courtney.”He turned the handle and went in. that door was never locked when the servant was out: the old lady did not like to be locked in. if she rang for the doorman she didn’t want to have to come and open the door, not at her age, not in her condition. He knew exactly the arrangement of the rooms in the flat. Four months age the flat on the floor below was empty and he looked over it.He crossed the hall to the door of the sitting room. The window of this room looked out onto the street. He had seen its window when he watched, but it was not in this room that the light had gone out. The light had gone out in the servant’s room on the left. This room was dark.He went in and shut the door behind him.A voice said, “Who is that?” It was the first time he had heard her voice, and it was very much as he had expected, a thin old voice: she was over eighty years of age. It was the voice of a lady, of a proud woman who all her life had had wealth and an easy life, rich places---all the things that he had not had. That was why she spoke in that way---“Who are you, my man?”He said, “Never mind who I am, and don’t get alarmed: I’m not going to hurt you.”He went forward and sat down on a chair by the big desk. There was a certain amount of light in the room from the street outside, and he could see her sitting there on the other side of the desk. He could see her white hair and her straight back and the gold pin in her dress. She was holding up her hands a little and he saw that she had been knitting when he entered the room.“Well,” she said, “what do you want?”“I want the key to your safe.”“How dare you ask such a thing!”He felt the anger in him rise. This thing was so nearly done that he was eager to get it finished. He had lived with the thing for years, thinking it over.“I said that I wouldn’t hurt you, and I won’t. I just want your key. Your servant has gone out for two hours and there is nothing that you can do.”She moved forward a little in her chair and put her knitting down on the desk, but he noticed that one hand was still playing with a long knitting needle. Perhaps this was because she was a little bit afraid. Well, that suited him. He wanted her to be afraid.“I understand,” she said. “And, when you have the key, I suppose that you will take my jewels.”“That’s right,” he laughed. “They can give me a good life from now on.”“So you have not had what you call a ‘good life’ up to now?”“No, I have not.”“I see. You’re that sort of young man.”“How do you know I’m a young man?”She shook her head and her hand tapped on the soft paper lying in front of her on the desk. “I have been blind for twenty years, and that only makes it easier for me to tell some things. You have a young man’s voice and you’re angry. You have a lot of anger in you. You feel that you that you have no that the things which you have a right to have. And you are a fool to think that this is the way to get these things.”“Just give me the key. You can tell the police later that your jewels were taken by an angry young man that never went to a good school. It will be a great help to them in picking me out from about ten million others.”He pulled a case out of his pocket and lit a cigarette. “I want that key. If you won’t give it to me, I shall take it from that chain which you wear round your neck.”“Listen to me, young man.” There was sign of anger in her voice, and she tapped with her knitting needle on the desk calling him to order. “I do not mean to give the police a better description of you than you imagine. But, if you go now, I will forget this unpleasant visit.”“You don’t frighten me, and I’ve wasted enough time. Give me the key.”“Once more, for your own good, young man, listen to me. Go away at once. Go away and work for the things, which you want. Do you think that, because I am blind, I am helpless? Of course I’m not helpless. I know already a great deal about you, which would help the police if you take my jewels. You are a young man about 5 feet 10 inches in height. I can tell that from the way in which your voice comes down to me. You are wearing a bowler hat, a round hard hat, and you are wearing a raincoat. I can hear it as you move. I am glad to know that you had the politeness to take off your hat when you came into the room, but I have noticed that you keep on tapping the top of that hard hat as you hold it on your knee. You smoke: you are smoking some kind of American cigarette, certainly not an English cigarette. You did not ask me if you might smoke.”He laughed. “It’s still a description which would fit thousands and thousands of men in this country. Why do you want those jewels? You have plenty of money, and I haven’t; and I’m going to have some of the things which you’ve enjoyed all your life.”The old lady was silent for a moment, and then she said: “You want to take my jewels because they mean money. I have never looked at the in that way. To me they are memories. They all mean something in my life. If you think that I’ll give you the key to my safe so that you can walk out of here with my memories, you are very much mistaken.”He stood up. He had suddenly become angry. “You’re a silly old woman. What do I care about your memories, about your past, ‘each jewel a memory’.” He laughed. “Well, I’ll tell you what I think of your memories. There’s your husband’s gold watch and chain; and there’s a little curl of hair from your child in the back of that diamond pin. Memories are worth nothing to me, but jewels mean money, just that. That’s what they mean to me.”As he moved to go round the desk her hands shook with a rapid and angry-tap-tap-tap and she said, “Don’t you dare to come near me? Don’t you dare!”“Then give me the key.”“You fools, go away.” But he did not go away; he moved slowly round the desk and stood at her side. If it had to be that way, well that’s how it had to be! He had come too far, dreamt too long of this to back away now. Even so, there was something in him, which drew back at the thought of using force on such an old woman. She turned in her seat to face him. “Come on, give me the key,” he said. “You’ve got no choice.” He put out his cigarette and put the end of it carefully in his pocket.But she shook her head. “I will do nothing to help you, nothing.”He stepped towards her. He put out his hands and took her by the shoulder. She struck at his hand with a knitting needle. He caught her arms and held them with one hand, while his free hand went to her neck, searching for the chain. He pulled it free. It was then that he heard her give a little cry, and her body fell back from him pulling at the hand with which he held her arms. She was lying back in the chair. He let go of her arms: she made no move.He stood there for a moment undecided. She was an old lady. He’d never meant it this way. It couldn’t be true! She couldn’t be dead! She’d be all right in a few moments.He went to the wall and found the picture, which covered the safe. Nothing could be allowed to stop him now, not after all these weeks of work, listening to the servant talking to her friend in the café three miles from here where she went on her night off. He learnt that the safe was behind the picture, and that the key was on a chain round the old lady’s neck. He had done all that work to learn these things.He put the jewel cases in the pockets of his raincoat. When the safe was empty he went back to the old lady. He put his hand on her heart. It was true: she was dead.Well, what did it matter? He had what he wanted. She couldn’t tell the police the few little things that she had learned about him.Detective Inspector Burrows walked into Albert Munster & Son’ shop. It was a small but very good-class jeweler’s shop. When he was alone with Mr. Munster, Inspector Burrows said, “I believe that you did some work for a Mrs. Walter Courtney.”“Yes, that is so. Every two years her jewelry came here to be cleaned.”“How many people in this shop dealt with the stuff?”“There are only three of us here: myself, Mr. Brown and the man we have in the workshop who does the cleaning.”Burrows looked across at Mr. Munster. He was a very short fat man, more than sixty years of age. “No,” said Burrows. “No, I don’t think the description fits you.”“What description, Inspector?”“The description of the person who last night stole Mrs. Courtney’s jewels. She was found dead by her servant.”“Dead? What a terrible thing! Poor Mrs. Courtney. But---but, Inspector, what has this to do with us?”“You will see.” Burrows took a piece of paper out of his pocket. “What I want is a young man who did not go to one of the best schools. His height is about five feet ten inches. He smokes American cigarettes, and he wears a bowler hat and a raincoat, does that description fit Mr. Brown?”“No, no; he’s as old as I am, and he doesn’t smoke. The description fits young Greisens. He’s not a bad young fellow. He has been with me for about eight years.” He shook his head. “Dear me, dear me; Mrs. Courtney’s dead! I can’t believe it.” “Well, it’s true.”“What makes you think it is young Greisens?”“Mrs. Courtney lived alone with her servant. She had never worn the jewels since she went blind twenty years ago. The servant has never seen them. The jewels left her room once every two years to come here for cleaning. So she knew that the thief came from your shop.”“But how could she have told you? She’s dead, you say.”“She was a very brave old lady. She was blind, but not helpless. She knew how to deal with young Greisens. He came in to her, and I imagine there was some talk between them while she refused to hand over the key; and while they talked, unknown to him, she was making notes about him.” Burrows looked at the piece of paper and read:“Young man, not gentleman, height abut five feet ten inches, bowler hat, raincoat, American cigarette, angry, knows jewels well, Walter’s watch and chain, Edith’s hair in pin. Must be from Munster & Sons.Burrows put the paper back in his pocket. “Yet, she was no fool. The room was in darkness. She was blind. She wrote it all down on the nice soft piece of paper on her desk. She wrote it pushing the point of her knitting needed into the paper. Wrote it in pinholes, which you can arrange in sixty-three different ways. These can tell anything that a blind person wants to tell you. Braille. I think you had better send for young Greisens,” said the Inspector. “Tapping away! Just think of it! Tapping away with her knitting needle in the dark,” said Mr. Munster.5. Was she able to describe the young man since she was blind? How much did she learn about him? How did the young man react to her description?

— She could describe the young man by Braille.— She knew the young man was five-feet ten inches tall, wore bowler hat, raincoat, and smoked American cigarette, knew her jewels well and he must be from Munster & Sons’ shop.— The young man didn’t take her description seriously since he thought many people fitted her description, it’s impossible for policeman to find him.