Charlie Chan - Charlie Chan Carries On Part 20

"Well, Mr. Chan," she remarked, "one of your precious six days is gone."

"Yes, and where are you?" Kennaway inquired.

"Two hundred and fifty miles from Honolulu, and moving comfortably along," Chan smiled.

"You didn't learn much this morning?" the young man suggested.

"I learned that my friend the murderer still seeks to entangle the innocent, as he did when he stole Doctor Lofton's luggage strap in London."

"You mean that about Ross?" the girl asked.

Charlie nodded. "Tell me - you agree now with Mrs. Luce?"

"I do," she answered. "I thought at the time that person was limping very weirdly - much more than Mr. Ross ever had. Who could it have been?"

"It might have been any of us," said Kennaway, looking at Chan over his cup.

"How right you are," returned the detective. "Any of you who wandered about rainy town, a.s.sisted on way by Malacca stick."

"Or it might even have been the lad who couldn't tear himself away from his book," the young man suggested. "Or claims he couldn't. I refer to jolly old Captain Keane, the irrepressible reader."

"Ah, yes - Keane," Chan said. "Has any one ever determined cause of Keane's fondness for loitering outside wrong doors?"

"Not so far as I know," Pamela Potter replied. "As a matter of fact, he hasn't been doing it much lately. Mr. Vivian caught him at it just after we left Yokohama, and the row could be heard for blocks. If there'd been any blocks, I mean."

"Mr. Vivian has special talent for rows," Charlie noted.

"I'll say he has," Kennaway agreed. "That last night made bridge look like one of the more hazardous occupations. I thought Vivian started it with very little reason. It almost looked as though he wanted to break up the game."

Chan's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Kennaway, I understand your employer, Mr. Tait, bought a wrist.w.a.tch just before he left New York?"

The young man laughed. "Yes - he warned me you were going to ask that. He did. Thought it would be more convenient on a long tour. He has his old watch and chain in his trunk, I believe. Get him to show them to you."

"Chain is intact, of course?"

"Oh, naturally. Or was when I saw it last - in Cairo."

Tait came up to them. "Mrs. Luce and I are getting up a bridge game," he announced. "You young people are elected."

"But I'm a terrible player," the girl protested.

"I know you are," the lawyer replied. "That's why I'm going to a.s.sign you to Mark as a partner. I feel I'm going to win. I love to win."

Kennaway and the girl got up. "Sorry to leave you, Mr. Chan," the latter said.

"I would not interfere with your pleasure," he returned.

"Pleasure?" she repeated. "You've heard about the slaughter of the innocents. Haven't you an old Chinese proverb to comfort me?"

"I have one which might have warned you," Charlie told her. "The deer should not play with the tiger."

"That's the best bridge rule I ever heard," the girl answered.

After a time, Charlie rose and walked out on to the deck. He was standing in a dark corner by the rail when he heard a stealthy hiss out of the night. He had completely forgotten Kas.h.i.+mo.

His slim little a.s.sistant came close. Even in the dark it was evident that he bubbled over with mystery and excitement.

"Search all over," he whispered breathlessly.

"What!" breathed Charlie.

"I have discovered the key," the j.a.panese replied.

Chan's heart leaped at the words. Welby, he recalled, had also discovered the key.

"You are quick worker, Kas.h.i.+mo," the Chinese said. "Where is it?"

"Follow me," directed Kas.h.i.+mo. He led the way into the corridor, and to a de luxe cabin on the same deck. At the door, he paused.

"Who occupies this room?" Charlie asked anxiously.

"Mr. Tait and Mr. Kennaway," the j.a.panese told him, and pus.h.i.+ng open the door, flooded the cabin with light. Remembering the bridge game with relief, Charlie followed, closing the door behind him. He noticed that the port-holes, which opened on the promenade deck, were safely shuttered.

Kas.h.i.+mo knelt, and dragged from beneath one of the beds a battered old bag. It was plastered with the labels of foreign hotels. The j.a.panese made no effort to open it but lovingly ran his fingers over a particularly gorgeous label - that of the Great Eastern Hotel, Calcutta. "You do same," he suggested to Charlie.

Charlie touched the label. Underneath he felt the faint outline of a key, about the size of the one Duff had shown him.

"Good work, Kas.h.i.+mo," he murmured.

In gold letters near the bag's lock, he saw the initials "M.K."

Chapter XVIII.

MAXY MINCHIN'S PARTY

After a few whispered instructions to Kas.h.i.+mo, Charlie returned to the deck and stood by the rail, staring thoughtfully out at the silver path of the moon on the dark waters. His chief feeling at the moment was one of admiration for his a.s.sistant. An ingenious place to hide an object like a key - it had made but the slightest protuberance on the rough leather of the case. The eye would never have detected it - only the fingers. Yes, Kas.h.i.+mo was undoubtedly a blunderer, but in this matter of searching, of meddling with the property of others, the boy was touched with genius.

Gradually Chan began to consider the larger aspects of the matter. How came this key, duplicate of the one found in the dead hand of Hugh Morris Drake that morning in a London hotel, to be on Kennaway's bag? Of course he had not seen it, but Charlie felt it safe to a.s.sume that it was the duplicate. The one Welby had located the night he told Pamela Potter: "The fun's all over." The fun had indeed been over for poor Welby. A dangerous object to discover.

Where had Welby found it? In the same place where it was now? He must have. For it was under the label of the Great Eastern Hotel, Calcutta, and the natural inference must be that it had been put there in the Indian city. A man couldn't pick up a Calcutta label anywhere save in Calcutta. Yes, it must have been in its present position in Yokohama, where Welby found it - Wait a minute. Welby had spoken of this key to the girl as though he had actually seen it. Number and all. But had he? Perhaps he was merely a.s.suming, as Chan was doing, that this was the duplicate key. It would have been a natural a.s.sumption. It might be that he had only run his fingers over the outline, as Chan had done. And some one had learned of his discovery, had followed him ash.o.r.e and murdered him.

Who? Kennaway? Nonsense. It had without doubt been the same man who killed Honywood and his wife. Kennaway was a mere boy; what concern could he have with Jim Everhard and the Honywoods. With events that had happened long ago in some far place, and then remained in the shadows for many years?

Charlie put his hand to his head. Puzzles, puzzles. It couldn't have been Kennaway. The murderer's settled policy, evidently, was to implicate innocent men if he could. Witness the matter of the strap in London, the theft of the rubber tip from the stick belonging to Ross. Furthermore, he would hardly care to have this key discovered in his possession. What more natural than for him to attach it to the property of another man?

Who would have had the best opportunity to put that key on Kennaway's bag? Chan's eyes, fixed unseeing on the glittering water, narrowed suddenly. Who but Tait? Tait, who had been so prompt that morning to proclaim himself an innocent man, who had a.s.serted that his change to a wrist.w.a.tch had been effected before the tour started. Tait, who had slept in the room next to that in which Drake died; Tait, who had fallen in a terrific heart attack when he discovered next morning that Honywood, the man Everhard meant to kill, was still alive. Certainly Tait was old enough to have been Everhard in his day, to have acquired those little bags of pebbles, to have carried them for years, determined to return them when opportunity offered. What more likely than that Tait had made use of his companion's suitcase?

Chan began a slow stroll about the deck. No, the key was never Kennaway's. Suddenly he stood still. If Welby had found it where it was now, and it did not belong to Kennaway, then the little detective from Scotland Yard had not discovered the murderer. Why, then, had he been killed on the Yokohama dock?

Again Chan put his hand to his head. "Haie, I wander amid confusing fog," he murmured. "Much better I go to my pillow, seeking to gain clarity for the morrow."

He took his own advice at once, and the second night aboard the President Arthur pa.s.sed without incident.

In the morning Charlie cultivated the society of Mark Kennaway. It meant considerable moving about, for the young man seemed restless and distraught. Ho roamed the s.h.i.+p, and Charlie roamed with him.

"You are youthful person," the Chinese remarked. "You should study calm. I should say to look at you, you have few more than twenty years."

"Twenty-five," Kennaway informed him. "But I seem to have added about ten by this tour."

"It has been difficult time?" inquired Chan sympathetically.

"Ever been a nurse maid?" asked the young man. "Lord - if I'd known what I was letting myself in for! I've read aloud at night until my eyes ached and my throat felt like the desert's dusty face. Then there's been the constant anxiety about poor Mr. Tait's condition."

"There have been other attacks since the one in Broome's Hotel?" Charlie suggested.

Kennaway nodded. "Yes, several. One on the boat in the Red Sea, and a quite terrible one at Calcutta. I've cabled his son to meet us at San Francisco, and believe me I'll be glad to see that Golden Gate. If I can get him ash.o.r.e there still alive, I'll consider that I'm a fool for luck. I'll heave a sigh of relief that will be reported in all the Eastern papers as another California earthquake."

"Ah, yes," agreed Chan. "You must have been under much strain."

"Oh, I had it coming to me," Kennaway returned gloomily. "I should have started to practice law and let the map of the world alone. None of my people in Boston were in favor of this trip. They warned me. But I knew it all."

"Boston," repeated Charlie. "As I told you yesterday, a city in which I have great interest. The diction of its people is most superior. Some years ago I did small favor for Boston family, and never in my life was I thanked in better language."

Kennaway laughed. "Well, that must have been something," he replied.

"A great deal," Chan a.s.sured him. "I am old-fas.h.i.+oned person who feels that choice of words proclaims the gentleman. Or, in the case of which I speak, the lady. My children regard me old fogy on this point."

"Children don't show their parents enough respect these days," the young man nodded. "I say that as an ex-child. Well, I hope my parents don't find out the h.e.l.l I've been through on this trip. I'd hate to hear the familiar: *I told you so.' Of course, it hasn't been only poor Mr. Tait. I've had other troubles."

"I do not wish to penetrate any Boston reserve," Charlie remarked. "But could you name one, please?"

"I certainly could. That Potter girl - well, perhaps I shouldn't have said it."

Chan's eyes opened in surprise. "What is wrong with Potter girl?" he inquired.

"Everything," returned the young man. "She annoys me beyond words."

"Annoys you?"

"Yes. I've said it, and I'll stick to it. Doesn't she get on your nerves too? So d.a.m.ned Middle Western and competent? So sure of herself? She's got more poise than a great-aunt of mine who's lived on Beacon Hill for eighty-one years and met everybody worth while." He leaned closer. "You know, I actually believe the girl thinks I'll propose to her before this tour's over. Would I take that chance? Not I. And get her bank-book thrown in my face."

"You think that would happen?"

"I'm sure of it. I know these Middle Westerners - nothing matters but money. How much have you got? We don't feel that way in Boston. Money doesn't count there. Ours certainly doesn't. Uncle Eldred lost it all betting on the New York, New Haven and Hartford. I - I don't know why I've said all this to you. But you can see how I feel. Worn out acting as a nurse maid - and this girl on my mind all the time."

"Ah - then she is on your mind?"

"She certainly is. She can be mighty nice when she tries. Sweet, and - er - you know, sweet - and then all at once I'm run over by an automobile. One of the Drake brand. Millions at the wheel."

Chan consulted his watch. "I see her now at far end of deck. I presume you wish to flee?"

Kennaway shook his head. "What's the use? You can't get away from people on a boat. I've given up trying, long ago."

Pamela Potter came up to them. "Good morning, Mr. Chan. h.e.l.lo, Mark. How about some deck tennis? I think I can trim you this morning."

"You always do," Kennaway said.

"The East is so effete," she smiled, and led the captive Kennaway off.

Chan made a hasty tour of the deck. He found Captain Ronald Keane seated alone near the bow of the boat, and dropped into a chair beside him.

"Ah, Captain," he said, "a somewhat gorgeous morning."

"I guess it is," Keane replied. "Hadn't noticed, really."

"You have other matters that require pondering?" Charlie suggested.

"Not a thing in the world," yawned Keane. "But I never pay any attention to the weather. People who do are nothing but human vegetables."

The chief engineer came strolling along the deck. He paused at Charlie's chair. "About time for our tour of the engine room, Mr. Chan," he remarked.

"Ah, yes," returned the Chinese. "You were kind enough to promise me that pleasure when we talked together last night. Captain Keane, I am sure, would enjoy to come along." He looked inquiringly at Keane.

The captain stared back, amazed. "Me? Oh, no, thanks. I've no interest in engines. Wouldn't know a gadget from a gasket. And care less."

Charlie glanced up at the engineer. "Thank you so much," he said. "If you do not object, I will postpone my own tour. I desire short talk with Captain Keane."

"All right," nodded the engineer, and moved away. Chan was regarding Keane grimly.

"You know nothing about engines?" he suggested.

"Certainly not. What are you getting at, anyhow?"

"Some months ago, in parlor of Broome's Hotel, London, you informed Inspector Duff you were one time engineer."

Keane stared at him. "Say, you're quite a lad, aren't you?" he remarked. "Did I tell Duff that? I'd forgot all about it."

"It was not the truth?"

"No, of course not. I just said the first thing that came into my head."