Charlie Chan - Charlie Chan Carries On Part 22

"Yes, I fancy I'd better," the doctor admitted. "I've hated that sneering whelp from the moment I saw him. But of course, I mustn't forget my position." He gave Charlie a searching look. "I was happy to hear you say that he had no basis for his accusations."

"None whatever that I discover," answered Chan blandly.

"I don't know - now that I come to think of it, it was a rather silly move, my claiming that strap. I can't explain it except for the fact that after you've traveled with groups like this for a few years, you begin to look upon them as children. Somewhat stupid children, too, helpless and needing protection. My first instinct is always to furnish the protection. One of my people was in trouble so, as had happened many times before, I simply s.h.i.+fted his burden to my own shoulders, and carried on."

Charlie nodded. "I understand plenty well," he rea.s.sured the older man.

"Thank you, Mr. Chan," Lofton replied. "You seem an understanding person. I'm inclined to think I underrated you when we met."

Charlie smiled. "That is customary. I do not let it distress me. My object is to arrange so people are not still underrating me when we part."

"I imagine your object is usually attained," the doctor bowed. "I think I'll go to my cabin now. I have a lot of work to do."

They parted, and Chan set out on a walk about the deck. His step was brisk, his manner serene and composed. Much had happened at Maxy Minchin's dinner. Charlie smiled to himself as he recalled how much had happened. Some one called to him from a steamer chair.

"Ah, Mr. Tait," he remarked. "I will sit down at your side, if you have no inclination for objecting."

"I am delighted," replied Tait.

"Ah, yes. You were kind enough to speak to Mr. Vivian in flattering terms of my poor brain power."

"I meant every word of it," the lawyer a.s.sured him.

"Then you judge on the smallest grounds."

"No, I never do that." Tait struggled with his rug, and Chan a.s.sisted him. "Thanks," he said. "Well, that was quite a little dinner, as it turned out. Was it, by any chance, another of your experiments?"

Chan shook his head. "No - it was idea of hospitable Mr. Minchin. But who knows - I may be able to turn it to my purpose."

"I'm sure you can."

"Detective is in happy luck," Charlie continued, "when he can stand aside and hear murderer talk about incidents attending crime. Tonight many men spoke - possibly murderer among them. Was there some indiscreet admission?"

"Did you note any?" inquired Tait.

"I am much afraid I did. It came - you will pardon my rudeness - it came from you."

The lawyer nodded. "You justify my belief in you. I hardly expected you would overlook my indiscretion."

"We are talking, no doubt, about same thing?"

"Oh, no doubt at all."

"Will you tell me, then, of what we speak?"

"Gladly. It was rather a slip for me to admit that any one of us might have been in Hugh Morris Drake's position that night in Broome's Hotel."

"It was, indeed. You knew, of course, that Honywood and Drake changed rooms that night. Inspector Duff told you same on train between Nice and San Remo."

"Yes - that was where he told me about the change. You know Duff's notes pretty thoroughly, I perceive?"

"I must. They are my only hope. I find no record that you ever read a letter written by late Mr. Honywood to his wife."

"I didn't even know there was such a letter."

"Yet you knew that Drake was killed by some one seeking to kill Honywood. You understand that poor man's taking off was, as you started to say, purely accidental. That it might have happened to any man in the party."

"Yes - I'll have to admit that I knew that. I'm sorry I let it out, but it's too late now for regrets."

"How did you know it? Duff never told you."

"No, of course - Duff never told me."

"Then who did?"

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 fas.h.i.+on."

Tait laughed. "And in simple fas.h.i.+on," 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 b.u.t.terfly," 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 pa.s.sed 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 Kas.h.i.+mo, evidently much depressed.

"What has happened?" Charlie inquired.

Kas.h.i.+mo 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 j.a.panese 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," Kas.h.i.+mo 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?"

Kas.h.i.+mo 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 j.a.panese on the back. "Do not belittle own attainments any longer, Kas.h.i.+mo," 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 Kas.h.i.+mo's status on the s.h.i.+p 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 j.a.panese, 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.