Charlie Chan [5] Charlie Chan Carries On
Page 27
“In Broome’s Hotel you attempted your first murder. It was a ghastly mistake. But you hung on. You sent that coat to Nice, where you had it repaired. You had lost part of your watch-chain, one of the keys to your safety-deposit box. You debated with yourself - should you throw the duplicate key away? You knew Scotland Yard would make every effort to find the owner of a safety-deposit box numbered 3260. Could you go into a bank where you were practically unknown and call undue attention to yourself by admitting you had lost both keys? No, your only hope of ever seeing your valuables again was to hang on to that other key.
“The party went on. Walter Honywood knew you now, but he was as eager to avoid publicity as you were. He warned you of a letter that would incriminate you if anything happened to him. You searched until you had it, and that same night, in the hotel gardens at Nice, you got him. You heard that Sybil Conway was in the next town. You didn’t dare leave the party. You went along, hoping for the best - and that lift - it was made for your purpose.
“After that, it seemed smooth sailing. You began to think luck was with you. Duff was baffled, and you knew it. You moved on in peace, until Yokohama. There you learned that Welby had discovered the duplicate key. By the way, where did you have it then?” Ross made no reply. “Some clever place, I’ll wager,” the Scotland Yard man continued. “But it doesn’t matter. You sensed somehow that Welby had gone ashore to cable. He’d sent the message before you could stop him, but on the chance that there was no mention of you in it - as indeed there wasn’t - you shot him down on the dock when he returned.
“Again you began to feel safe. I don’t know much about what has happened since Yokohama. But I judge that when you got to Honolulu and met Duff on the pier, you saw red again. Nearly at the end of your journey - only a few more miles - and all serene - save for Duff. How much had he learned? Nothing, that was clear. How much would he learn on that final lap of the tour? Nothing again, if you could prevent it. You removed him from your trail.” Wales glanced at Charlie Chan. “And right there, Ross,” the Englishman finished, “I think you made the big mistake of your life.”
Ross stood up. The boat was now fast to the dock, and outside the window, the passengers were gathered about the top of the plank.
“Well, what of it?” Ross said. “How about going ashore?”
They waited a moment on the deck, until the crowd on the plank had diminished to a few late stragglers, then started down. A uniformed policeman appeared before Flannery. “The car’s ready, Chief,” he said.
Charlie held out his hand to Sergeant Wales. “Maybe we meet again,” he said. “I have in bag Inspector Duff’s briefcase, my study of which is now completed.”
Wales shook hands warmly. “Yes, you’ve passed your examination on that, I fancy,” he smiled. “With honors, too. I’ll be in San Francisco until Duff comes. I hope you’ll be here when he arrives. He’ll want to thank you in person, I know.”
“I may be - who can say?” Charlie returned.
“Good. In the meantime, you must dine with me tonight. There are still some details I’m curious about. Ross’s speech at the Minchin dinner, for example. Can you meet me at the Stewart at seven?”
“Delighted,” Charlie answered. “I stop at same hotel myself.”
Wales walked away with Ross in the company of the uniformed policeman. The man whom Charlie had at last brought to justice was wrapped in sullen silence now. His eyes, in those final moments, had studiously avoided those of Chan.
“Be in San Francisco long, Charlie?” asked Flannery, coming up.
“Hard to answer,” Chan replied. “I have a daughter at college in south California, and I have unquenchable longing to visit her.”
“That’s the ticket,” Flannery cried, relieved. “You go down and give a helping hand to the Los Angeles police. They need it, if anybody ever did.”
Chan smiled gently to himself. “You have here no little matter on which I might assist?”
“Not a thing, Charlie. Everything’s pretty well cleaned up around San Francisco. But then, we got a mighty able organization here.”
Chan nodded. “Under a strong general there are no weak soldiers.”
“You said it. Lot of truth in some of those old wheezes of yours. Well, Charlie - drop in and see me before you go. I’ll have to run along now.”
As Charlie walked over to get his bag, he met Kashimo and the purser.
“Taking this lad aboard the President Taft,” the purser said. “He’ll be on his way back to Hawaii at two.”
Chan beamed upon his assistant. “And he goes covered with glory,” he remarked. “Kashimo, you have suffused my heart with pride. Not only did you do notable searching on boat, but when you came aboard that night in Honolulu, your suspicious eye was already on the guilty man.” He patted the Japanese on the shoulder. “Even a peach grown in the shade will ripen in the end,” he added.
“Hope chief will not be angry that I ran away,” Kashimo said.
“Chief will be at pier with loudly playing band,” Charlie assured him. “I do not appear to make you understand, Kashimo. You are hero. You are, I repeat again, covered with glory. Do not continually seek to push it aside, like blanket on hot night. Go aboard other ship now and wait for my return. I go to city to purchase fresh linen for you. I am inclined to think six days are plenty for that present outfit.”
He picked up his bag, and walked a few steps with them toward the plank of the President Taft.
“For the present, I say good-by,” he announced. “will see you again, maybe at one o’clock. You are going home, Kashimo, not only in the shining garments of success, but also in a more hygienic shirt.”
“All right,” said Kashimo meekly.
As Charlie was leaving the pier-shed, he encountered Mark Kennaway.
“Hello,” the young man cried. “Pamela and I have been waiting for you. I’ve engaged a car, and you’re riding uptown with us.”
“You are too kind,” Charlie replied.
“Oh, our motives are not entirely unselfish. Tell you what I mean in a minute.” They went to the curb, where Pamela Potter was seated in a large touring car. “Jump in, Mr. Chan,” the young man added.
Chan did no jumping, but climbed aboard with his usual dignity. Kennaway followed and the car started.
“Both are looking very happy,” Charlie suggested.
“Then I suppose our news is superfluous,” the young man said. “As a matter of fact, we’re engaged -“
Chan turned to the girl. “Pardon my surprise. You accepted this irritating young man, after all?”
“I certainly did. About a minute before he proposed, at that. I wasn’t going to let all my hard work go for nothing.”
“My warmest congratulations to you both,” Chan bowed.
“Thanks,” smiled the girl. “Mark’s all right, everything considered. He’s promised to forget Boston, and practice law in Detroit.”
“Greater love hath no man than that,” nodded Kennaway.
“So it’s turned out to be a pretty good tour, after all,” the girl continued. “Even if it did start so badly.” Her smile faded. “By the way, I can’t wait another minute. I want to learn how you knew that Ross was guilty. You said that night on the deck that I ought to know, too, and I’ve wracked my slight brain until I’m dizzy. But it’s no use. I’m no detective, I guess.”
“Vivian told us a few minutes ago,” Kennaway added, “that it was something Ross said at the Minchin dinner. We’ve been over that speech of Ross’s a dozen times. There wasn’t much to it, as I recall. He was interrupted before he’d fairly got started -“
“But not before he had spoken a most incriminating word,” Chan put in. “I will repeat for you the sentence in which it occurred. I have memorized it. Listen carefully. ‘As for that unfortunate night in London, when poor Hugh Morris Drake lay dead in that stuffy room in Broome’s Hotel -‘ “
“Stuffy!” cried Pamela Potter.
“Stuffy,” repeated Char
lie. “You are now bright girl I thought you. Consider. Was the room in which your honorable grandfather was discovered lifeless on bed a stuffy room? Remember testimony of Martin, the floor waiter which you heard at inquest, and which I read in Inspector Duff’s notes. ‘I unlocked the door of the room and went in,’ Martin said. ‘One window was closed, the curtain was down all the way. The other was open, and the curtain was up, too. The light entered from there.’ adding word of my own I would remark, so also did plenty good fresh air.”
“Of course,” cried the girl. “I should have remembered. When I was in that room, talking with Mr. Duff, the window was still open, and a street orchestra was playing There’s a Long, Long Trail A-Winding outside. The music came up to us quite loudly.”
“Ah, yes - but it was not in same room that grandfather was slain,” Chan reminded her. “It was in room next door. And when Ross mentioned matter at dinner, his memory played him sorry trick. His thoughts returned, not to room in which grandfather was finally discovered, but to that other room in which he died. You read Walter Honywood’s letter to his wife?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Recall how he said to her: ‘I entered and looked about me. Drake’s clothes were on a chair, his earphone on a table; all the doors and windows were closed.’ You observe, Miss Pamela - that was the stuffy room. The room where your grandfather perished.”
“Of course it was,” the girl answered. “Poor grandfather had asthma, and he thought the London night air was bad for it. So he refused to have any windows open where he slept. Oh - I have been stupid.”
“You were otherwise engaged,” smiled Charlie. “I was not. Three men knew that Hugh Morris Drake slept that night in a stuffy room. One, Mr. Drake himself - and he was dead. Two, Mr. Honywood, who went in and found the body - and he too was dead. Three, the man who stole in there in the night and strangled him - the murderer. In simpler words - Mr. Ross.”
“Good work!” cried Kennaway.
“But finished now,” added Chan. “The Emperor Shi Hwang-ti, who built the Great Wall of China, once said: ‘He who squanders to-day talking of yesterday’s triumph, will have nothing to boast of tomorrow.’ “
The car had drawn up before the door of a hotel in Union Square, and when the young people had alighted, Charlie followed. He took the girl’s hand in his.
“I see plenty glad look in your eyes this morning,” he said. “May it remain, is vigorous wish from me. Remember, fortune calls at the smiling gate.”
He shook hands with Kennaway, picked up his bag, and disappeared quickly around the corner.
THE END
Table of Contents
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII