Tait hesitated. “I suppose I shall have to confess. I got the information from Mark Kennaway.”
“Ah, yes. And Mr. Kennaway got it from -“
“According to his story, he got it from Pamela Potter.”
A brief silence, then Charlie stood up. “Mr. Tait, I congratulate you. You are out of that in neat fashion.”
Tait laughed. “And in simple fashion,” he added. “Just by telling the truth, Mr. Chan.”
“A pleasant evening,” Charlie said. “I leave you to enjoy your no doubt interesting thoughts.” He strolled away.
Seeking the dancers on the promenade deck, he noted Pamela Potter circling that restricted floor in Mark Kennaway’s arms. He waited patiently until the music stopped, and then approached the couple.
“Pardon,” he announced. “But this lady has next fox trotting with me.”
“Just as you say,” smiled Kennaway.
Gravely Chan offered his arm, and led the girl off. The music was beginning again.
“I spoke with metaphor,” Charlie remarked. “My avoirdupois and dancing do not make good mixture.”
“Nonsense,” she answered. “I’ll bet you’ve never tried.”
“The wise elephant does not seek to ape the butterfly,” he told her, and escorted her to a shadowy corner by the rail. “I have brought you here not only for the fragrance of your society, which is delectable, but also to ask a question.”
“Oh - and I thought I’d made a conquest,” she laughed.
“Surely same would be ancient story for you,” he replied, “and hardly worthy of recording. Tell me this, if you will be so kind. You have related to others the matter you read in Mr. Honywood’s letter to his wife? You have told fellow members of tour that murder of grandfather was accident?”
“Oh, dear,” she murmured. “Shouldn’t I have done it?”
Chan shrugged. “Old saying has it, two ears, one mouth. Hear twice as much as you tell.”
“I’m properly rebuked,” she said.
“Do not fret. No harm may have been done. I merely wish to know whom you told.”
“Well, I told Mrs. Luce.”
“That was natural. And how many more?”
“Just one more. Mark - Mr. Kennaway.”
“Ah, yes. You noted tonight, perhaps, that Mr. Kennaway has passed information along to Mr. Tait?”
“Yes, I did note it - and it made me rather angry. I didn’t tell Mark it was a secret, but he should have known. He irritates me very much, that lad.”
“Irritates you? I should have said -“
“Yes, I know - I’m with him a lot. But heavens - what have I to choose from? Vivian? Keane? It’s hopeless. When there’s anything doing that calls for a man - a dance, for instance - naturally I select Mark. But all the same, he irritates me.”
“So you said.”
“I meant it. You must have seen yourself how he acts. So frightfully superior - Boston and Harvard and all that. I can tell you - it gets on my nerves -“
“Suppose,” smiled Chan, “that this irritating young man should ask you to marry him?”
“Do you think he will?” asked the girl quickly.
“In what way should I know?” Charlie said.
“Well - it’s almost uncanny, Mr. Chan, how you invite confidences. I may tell you that I hope he will ask me to marry him. As a matter of fact, I’ve been leading him on - a little. I want him to propose to me.”
“And then?”
“Then I shall turn him down. What a triumph! The flower of Boston turned down by something crude and vulgar from the terrible Middle West.”
Chan shook his head. “A woman’s heart,” he remarked, “is like a needle at the bottom of the sea.”
“Oh, we’re not so darned hard to fathom. My motives are perfectly clear. Of course, in a way, it will be a pity - he can be so nice when he wants to be -“
“Yes?”
“Yes, but he seldom wants to be. Usually he’s just cold and lofty and Bostonian, and I know that he’s sneering at my money.” She laid a slender hand on Charlie’s arm. “Can I help it,” she added wistfully, “if my grandfather had brains enough to get rich?”
“No honorable man would hold you accountable,” Charlie answered soothingly. “But if you are leading this young man on - a little - we should get back to the work.”
They walked along the deck toward the music.
“He should never have told that to Mr. Tait,” the girl said. “I ought to call him down for it - but I don’t think I will. The mood tonight is one of tenderness.”
“Let it remain so,” urged Chan. “I like it better that way myself.”
Kennaway, he noted, showed no signs of annoyance when he saw the girl again. Nor did Pamela Potter seem especially irritated. As Charlie turned away, the purser faced him.
“Come with me, Mr. Chan,” Lynch said. He led the way to his office.
In a chair drooped Kashimo, evidently much depressed.
“What has happened?” Charlie inquired.
Kashimo looked up. “So sorry,” he hissed, and Chan’s heart sank.
“Your helper here has got himself into trouble,” the purser explained.
“How do I know she will come back?” the Japanese said.
“You speak in riddles,” Chan told him. “Who came back?”
“Mrs. Minchin,” the purser put in, “returned to her cabin a few moments ago and found this boy searching there. She’s got a billion dollars’ worth of knick-knacks in her luggage, and her screams could be heard as far away as the Astor House bar, in Shanghai. I promised her I’d throw the lad overboard myself. We’ll have to take him off those cabins and put him somewhere else. I’m afraid his usefulness to you is ended.”
“So sorry,” Kashimo repeated.
“One minute,” Charlie said. “You will have plenty time to be sorry later. Tell me first - did you find anything of interest in Maxy Minchin’s cabin?”
Kashimo leaped to his feet. “I think so, Charlie. I find - I search hard and I am good searcher - you said so -“
“Yes, yes. What did you find?”
“I find nice collection of hotel labels not pasted on to anything. Pretty labels from all hotels visited by these travelers - labels that say Grand Hotel, Splendid Hotel, Palace Hotel -“
“And was there one from the Great Eastern Hotel, Calcutta?” Chan inquired.
“No. I look twice. Label from that hotel is not among those present.”
Chan smiled, and patted the little Japanese on the back. “Do not belittle own attainments any longer, Kashimo,” he advised. “Stones are cast alone at fruitful trees, and one of these days you may find yourself in veritable shower of missiles.”
Chapter XX
MISS PAMELA MAKES A LIST
Charlie turned to the purser, and within a few minutes the question of Kashimo’s status on the ship was settled. It was arranged that he was to be transferred to a series of cabins on a lower deck, and that he must keep out of the way of the loudly vocal Sadie Minchin as much as possible from that moment on to the end of the journey. The little Japanese, crestfallen, slipped away, and Chan returned to the deck. Standing once more by the rail, he considered this latest development.
If there were loose hotel labels available aboard the President Arthur, then it became more unlikely than ever that the key had been attached to Kennaway’s bag at Calcutta, and had consequently been in its present position when Welby located it in Yokohama. No, it had unquestionably been elsewhere, in the possession of its owner. That person, not wanting to throw it away, but somewhat shaken by the Welby episode, had evolved the happy idea of planting it on Kennaway’s suitcase, under the label of a hotel long since visited and left behind. He had known where such a label could be had. He might even have owned such a label himself. He might have been Maxy Minchin.
Chan smiled to himself, and after spending a few moments in the library, went to his cabin. His first act there was to take out Duff’s notes, and s
tudy them once again. What he read seemed to please him, and he went cheerfully to bed, where he enjoyed the most complete rest he had yet encountered aboard the boat.
Early the next morning Charlie met Maxy Minchin pacing the deck, grimly determined on exercise. He fell into step beside the gangster.
“Hello, Officer,” Maxy said. “Swell morning after the storm.”
“Storm?” Chan inquired.
“I mean that snappy little party I give last night. Say, maybe them birds didn’t mix it, hey? Hope you had a good time?”
“An excellent one,” smiled the Chinese.
“Well, I was a little anxious myself,” Maxy returned. “A guy that’s host, he can’t get much of a kick out of a roughhouse like that. I thought for a minute it was going to end in a pair of bracelets for some bimbo. But after all was said and done, I guess you was just as far from a pinch as ever.”
Chan sighed ponderously.
“I fear I was.”
“It’s sure some mystery,” Maxy went on. “Me, I can’t figure why any guy’d want to rub out that nice old gentleman. Something Tait said made me think mebbe it was all a mistake - mebbe Drake got took for a ride because they thought he was somebody else. Such things do happen. I remember once in Chicago - but why should I let a bull in on that? What I was going to say, we had a little excitement in our cabin last night.”
“Yes? Of what nature?” Charlie was mildly curious.
“Us rich millionaires,” Maxy continued, “we gotta keep our eyes peeled every minute. The word goes round we’re rolling in jack, and after that, good night! I don’t know what the world’s coming to. No respect for property rights no more - it’s disgusting. Sadie went back to the cabin, and there was a biscuit boy going through things like a Kansas cyclone.”
“What a pity,” Chan answered. “I trust nothing valuable was taken.”
“That’s the funny angle on it. There was all that jewelry Sadie’s been copping on to - valuable stuff. I ought to know, I come across for it. And when Sadie went into the cabin, there was this Chink -“
“Ah - er - no matter -” cried Chan, catching himself in time.
“There was this Chink, with a bunch of old hotel labels in his hand.”
“You have collection of such labels?” Charlie inquired.
“Yeah - I been picking ‘em up from each hotel we been to. Going to take ‘em home to little Maxy - that’s my son - so he can paste ‘em on his suitcase. He wanted to come along with us, but I tells him an education comes first. You stay here and learn to talk right, I says. Even a bootlegger’s got to speak good language nowadays, associating with the best people the way he does. Not that I want Maxy in the racket - he’ll have all he can do to manage the estate. I’ll bring you the labels, I says to him. It’ll be as good as taking the trip. And as I just been telling you, with all Sadie’s valuables laying around, it was them labels that caught the Chink’s eye. But he only had time to pinch one of ‘em.”
“Ah - one is missing?”
“Yeah. The wife noticed it right off the bat. The swellest one in the bunch - we both remembered speaking of it when we got it - how pleased little Maxy would be. A Calcutta hotel. But it was gone. We couldn’t dig it up nowhere.”
Charlie turned and stared at the gangster. The simple innocence of that dark face amazed him. Nothing there save the anxiety of an indulgent father.
“I tossed in a kick to the purser,” Mr. Minchin went on, “but he tells me he searched the Chink and he was clean. I guess he’d made away with the label. In Chi. in the old days he’d’a’ got a pineapple in his soup for this. But - oh, well - let it ride. Little Maxy won’t know what he missed - and that’s something.”
“I congratulate you,” said Chan. “Life has made you philosopher, which means peaceful days ahead.”
“That’s the kind I got a yen for now,” Minchin replied. They finished the walk in silence.
Early that afternoon Charlie met the unpleasant Captain Keane. The Chinese was inclined to ignore the encounter, but the captain stopped him.
“Well?” Keane began.
“Yes?” returned Chan.
“That dinner last night. Quite a few developments.”
“Plenty for me,” Keane replied. “As far as I can see, the matter begins to look pretty plain.”
“You mean Mr. Benbow?”
“Benbow, my hat! Don’t try to kid me. Lofton’s my choice, and has been from the start. Do you know, he told me at San Remo that the tour was off? Why? Elementary, my dear Mr. Chan. Duff forced him to go on, but he didn’t want to do it. He’d finished his job.”
“You think that is proof enough to convict in English courts?”
“No - I know it isn’t. I’m working on the case, though. Miss Potter has authorized me to go ahead, and she’s promised to pay up if I make good.”
Chan glared at him. “You did not mention my name?”
“Why should I? You’re going to be on the outside looking in before this case is ended. Go ahead - look wise. I suppose you think I’m on the wrong track.”
“Not at all,” Chan answered.
“What?”
“Why should I think that? The stupidest man in the town may point out the road to the school.”
“And just what do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Old Chinese saying.”
“I don’t think much of it,” answered Keane, and went on his way.
The afternoon passed swiftly, while the ship sailed on across a calm and sunlit sea. Evening came - the last of his evenings but one - and Chan was as calm as the sea. He prepared for dinner and, stepping out on to the deck, saw Tait about to enter the smoking-room.
“Won’t you join me, Mr. Chan?” the lawyer invited.
Charlie shook his head. “I am seeking Mr. Kennaway,” he replied.
“Still in the cabin when I left,” Tait said.
“And number is -” the Chinese inquired.
Tait gave him this quite unnecessary information, and Chan walked away. He found Mark Kennaway busy with a black tie.
“Oh, come in, Mr. Chan,” the young man greeted him. “Just trying to beautify the old facade.”
“Yes - the time in Miss Pamela’s society is growing brief,” Charlie smiled.
“Why bring that up?” asked Kennaway. “Always look your best - that’s my motto. There may be somebody about who wants to hire a lawyer.”
Chan closed the door. “I have called for a private talk with you,” he announced. “I must have your word of honor you will keep what is said in dark.”
“Naturally.” Kennaway seemed surprised.
Charlie dropped to his knees and dragged from beneath one of the beds the suitcase with the interesting label. He pointed to the latter.
“You will regard that, please.”
“You mean the label from the Great Eastern Hotel in Calcutta? What about it?”
“Do you recall - was it there when you left Calcutta?”
“Why, of course. I noticed it after I got on the boat at Diamond Harbor. It’s so striking one could hardly overlook it.”
“You are certain this is the label you saw on that occasion?”
“Well - how could I be certain of that? I saw one just like it.”
“Precisely,” answered Chan. “You saw one just like it. But you did not see this one.”
Kennaway came closer. “What do you mean?” he inquired.
“I mean that at some later date, second label was pasted neatly over the first. And between the two - Will you kindly run fingers over surface?”
The young man did so. “What’s this?” he frowned. “Feels like a key.”
“It is a key,” Charlie nodded. “Duplicate of the one found in hand of Hugh Morris Drake one February morning in Broome’s Hotel.”
Kennaway whistled softly. “Who put it on my bag?” he asked.
“I wonder,” said Chan slowly.
The young man sat down on the edge of his bed, thinking deeply. His e
yes strayed across the room to another bed, on which lay a pair of pajamas. “I wonder, too,” he said. He and Charlie exchanged a long look.
“I will put suitcase back in place,” remarked the detective with sudden briskness. He did so. “You will say nothing of this to living soul. Keep eye on key. It will, I think, be removed before ship reaches port. Kindly inform me the moment it is gone.”
The door opened abruptly, and Tait came in. “Ah, Mr. Chan,” he said. “Pardon me. Is this a private conference?”
“Not at all,” Charlie assured him.
“I found I had no handkerchief,” Tait explained. He opened a drawer and took one out. “Won’t you join me for an appetizer - both of you?”
“So sorry not to do so,” the Chinese answered. “What I require mostly is non-appetizer.” He went out, smiling and serene.
After dinner, he found Mrs. Luce and Pamela Potter seated together in deck chairs.
“May I intrude my obnoxious presence?” he inquired.
“Sit down, Mr. Chan,” the old lady said. “I’m not seeing much of you on this trip. But then, I suppose you’re a busy man?”
“Not so much busy as I expected to be,” he answered quietly.
“Really?” She gave him a questioning look. “Lovely evening, isn’t it? This weather reminds me of the South African veldt. I spent a year there once.”
“You have pretty well investigated the map.”
“Yes - I’ve been about. Think now I’ll settle down in Pasadena - but that feeling is usual with me just as I finish a long tour. Some day I’ll pass a window filled with steamship folders - and then I’ll be off again.”
Charlie turned to the girl. “May I, with rude boldness, inquire about last evening? Maybe you led young man on - a little farther?”
“When I was a small girl,” she smiled, “I used to build snow men. It’s been interesting to meet one who can walk about.”
“You have two more nights - with plenty good moon shining.”
“It wouldn’t help if they were Arctic nights, and six months long,” she told him. “I’m afraid the last returns are in.”
“Do not despair,” Chan replied. “Perseverance wins. A matter I have proved in my own endeavors. By the way, did you promise Captain Keane reward if he finds slayer of your grandfather?”
Charlie Chan [5] Charlie Chan Carries On Page 23
