Charlie Chan - Charlie Chan Carries On Part 25

Benbow was starting on a new reel. His pictorial record seemed endless, but now his audience was with him. Egypt, India, Singapore, China - the man had really shown remarkable intelligence in the scenes he had selected.

He came at last to the end, and after thanking him, the party drifted from the room, until only Chan and the Benbows were left. The detective was examining the little spools on which the film was wound. "A very interesting evening," he remarked.

"Thanks," Benbow replied. "I believe they did enjoy it, don't you?"

"I am certain they did," Charlie told him. "Mrs. Benbow, it is not just that you should oppress frail self with that burden. Your husband and I will together transport this material to your cabin." He took up the many reels of film, and moved toward the door. Benbow carrying the projector, followed. They went below.

Once inside the Benbow stateroom, Charlie laid the film on the bed, and turned to the man from Akron.

"May I inquire who has cabins on either side of you?" he said.

Benbow seemed startled. "Why - Mrs. Luce and Miss Pamela are on one side. The cabin forward is empty."

"One moment," Chan answered. He disappeared, but returned almost at once. "At this instant," he announced, "both cabins quite empty. Corridor also is entirely deserted by one and all."

Benbow was fumbling nervously with the projector. He got it into its case, and began to buckle up a long black strap. "What - what's it all about, Mr. Chan?" he stammered.

"That is very valuable film of yours?" Charlie suggested blandly.

"I'll say it is."

"You have trunk with good strong lock?"

"Why, yes." Benbow nodded toward a wardrobe trunk in the corner.

"Making humble suggestion, would you be good enough to bestow all reels of film in that, and fasten lock securely?"

"Of course. But why? Surely n.o.body -"

Chan's little eyes narrowed. "Person never knows," he remarked. "It would grieve me greatly if you arrived in beloved home town lacking important reel. The reel, for example, that includes pictures taken at Nice."

"What is all this, Mr. Chan?" Benbow asked.

"You noticed nothing about those particular pictures?"

"No, I can't say I did."

"Others were perhaps more observant. Please do not distress yourself. Merely lock pictures all away. They have told their story to me, and may never be required by Scotland Yard -"

"Scotland Yard!" cried Benbow. "I'd like to see them try to -"

"Pardon that I interrupt. I must ask just one question. Do you now recall exact date when the photographs of street in Nice were taken?"

"You mean of the Promenade des Anglais?" Removing a worn bit of paper from his pocket, Benbow studied it. "That film was exposed on the morning of February twenty-first," he announced.

"An excellent system," Chan approved. "I am grateful. Now, you will stow away all reels, and I will a.s.sist. This is snap lock, I perceive. There - it has nice strong appearance." He turned to go. "Mr. Benbow, I am much in your debt, first, for taking so many pictures, second, for showing them to me."

"Why - why, that's all right," returned the dazed Benbow.

Chan departed. He went at once to the topmost deck and entered the radio room. For a moment he thought deeply, then he wrote a message: "Sergeant Wales, care Captain Flannery, Hall of Justice, San Francisco: Without delay request Scotland Yard authorities obtain from Jimmy Breen, English Tailor, Promenade des Anglais, Nice, France, full description man who had work performed on or about February twenty-first, calling for same on morning of that date, also nature of work done. Expecting you without fail on dock tomorrow morning.

"Charlie Chan, Inspector."

With light heart, Charlie descended to a lower deck and began a thoughtful turn about it. Damp, dripping, clammy fog surrounded the ship on all sides. In marked contrast to previous nights he walked a deserted path, the pa.s.sengers had with one accord sought the brightly lighted public rooms. Twice he made the circle, well pleased with himself and the world.

For the third time he was crossing the after deck, which was shrouded in darkness. Suddenly, amid the shadows at his right, he saw a black figure moving, caught the faint glint of steel. It must be set down for ever to his credit that he was rushing in that direction when the shot was fired. Charlie dropped to the deck and lay there, motionless.

There followed the stealthy sound of quickly retreating footsteps, then a moment of grim silence. It was broken by the voice of the purser, leaning over Chan.

"In heaven's name, Inspector," he cried. "What has happened?"

Charlie sat up. "For a moment I found the rec.u.mbent position more comfortable," he remarked. "I am, you will observe, conservative by nature."

"Somebody shot at you?" the purser said.

"Briefly," replied the Chinese. "And missed - by one inch."

"I say - we can't have this sort of thing here," the officer objected plaintively.

Chan got slowly to his feet. "Do not fret," he advised. "The man who fired that shot will repose in arms of police tomorrow morning, moment ship docks."

"But tonight -"

"There is no occasion for alarm. Something tells me there was no real effort to hit target. Kindly note size of same. And that aim has never failed before."

"Just a warning, eh?" remarked the purser, relieved.

"Something of that nature," Charlie returned, and strolled away. As he reached the door leading to the main companionway, Mark Kennaway ran up to him. The young man's face was pale, his hair sadly rumpled.

"Mr. Chan," he cried. "You must come with me at once."

Silently Charlie followed. Kennaway led the way to the stateroom he shared with Tait, and pushed open the door. Tait was lying, apparently lifeless, on his bed.

"Ah - the poor gentleman has had one of his attacks," Chan said.

"Evidently," Kennaway replied. "I came in here a moment ago and found him like this. But see - what does this mean? I heard that somebody had taken a shot at you - and look!"

He pointed to the floor beside the bed. A pistol was lying there.

"It's still warm," the young man added hoa.r.s.ely. "I touched it, and it's still warm."

Charlie stooped and carelessly picked up the weapon. "Ah, yes," he remarked, "it remains overheated. And for good reason. It was only a moment ago discharged at my plentiful person."

Kennaway sat on the edge of his own bed, and put his face in his hands. "Tait," he muttered. "Good lord - Tait!"

"Yes," Charlie nodded. "Mr. Tait's fingerprints will indubitably be found on bright surface of pistol." He stooped again, and drew Kennaway's bag from beneath the bed. For a moment he stared at that innocent-seeming Calcutta label. Then he felt it with his fingers. There was a slit little more than the length of a key just above the center, but the heavy paper was pasted back into place. One spot was still rather damp. "Plenty neat job," the detective commented. "It is just as I thought. The key is gone."

Kennaway looked wildly about. "Where is it?" he asked.

"It is where I want it to be," Charlie answered. "On the person of the man who fired this revolver a moment ago."

The young man stared at the other bed. "You mean he's got it?"

"No," replied Charlie, shaking his head. "It is not on Mr. Tait. It is on the person of a ruthless killer - a man who was not above putting to his own uses the misfortune of our poor friend there on the bed. A man who came here tonight for his key, found Mr. Tait unconscious, saw his chance. A man who rushed out, fired at me, then returned here and after pressing Tait's hand about revolver to attend to fingerprints, dropped weapon suggestively on floor. A clever criminal if ever I met one. I shall experience great joy in handing him over to my old friend Flannery in the morning."

Chapter XXII.

TIME TO FISH.

Kennaway stood up, a look of immense relief on his face. Charlie was putting the revolver away in his pocket.

"Thank heaven," the young man said. "That's a load off my shoulders." He glanced down at Tait, who was stirring slightly. "I think he's coming out of it now. Poor chap. All evening I've been wondering - asking myself - but I just couldn't believe it. He's a kind man, underneath his bl.u.s.ter. I couldn't believe him capable of - all those terrible things."

Chan was moving toward the door. "Your lips, I trust, are sealed," he remarked. "You will repeat no word of what I have told you, of course. We have yet to make our capture, but I am certain our quarry is unsuspecting. Should he feel that his little stratagem here has succeeded, I think maybe our future path becomes even smoother."

"I understand," Kennaway answered. "You may rely on me." He put his hand over the lawyer's heart. "It begins to look as though I'm going to get poor Mr. Tait safely home, after all. And from then on - no more jobs like this for me."

Charlie nodded. "To supervise his own destiny is task enough for any man," he suggested.

"I'll say it is," Kennaway agreed warmly. Chan opened the door. "Er - just a moment, Inspector. If you should happen to run across Miss Potter, will you kindly ask her to wait up for me? I may be here for a half-hour or so, but as soon as Mr. Tait falls asleep -"

"Ah, yes," smiled Chan. "I shall be happy to take that message."

"Oh - please don't go out of your way to find her. I merely thought - it's our last night, you know. I really ought to say good-by to her."

"Good-by?" Charlie repeated.

"Yes - and nothing more. What was that you just told me? To supervise his own destiny is task enough -"

"For the timid man," finished Chan quickly. "Mind is so filled with other matters, regret to say I stupidly misquoted the pa.s.sage when I spoke before."

"Oh," said Kennaway blankly. Chan stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him.

The ship's captain was waiting for him in the main companionway. "I've just heard what has happened," he remarked. "I have an extra berth in my cabin and I want you to sleep there tonight."

"I am immensely honored," Charlie bowed. "But there is no need for such sacrifice -"

"What do you mean, sacrifice? I'm doing this for myself, not for you. I don't want any accidents on my ship. I'll be expecting you. Captain's orders."

"Which must, of course, be obeyed," Chan agreed.

He found Pamela Potter reading in a corner of the lounge. She put down her book and looked at him with deep concern.

"What's all this about your being shot at?" she wanted to know.

Charlie shrugged. "The matter is of no consequence," he a.s.sured her. "I am recipient of slight attention from a shipmate. Do not give it thought. I arrive with message for you. Mr. Kennaway requests you loiter up for him."

"Well, that's an offer," the girl replied.

"Mr. Tait has suffered bad attack -"

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"He is improving. When chance offers, Mr. Kennaway will seek you out." The girl said nothing. "He is plenty fine young man," Charlie added.

"He still irritates me," she replied firmly.

Charlie smiled. "I can understand feeling. But as favor to me, please wait up and let him irritate you for final time."

"I might," she answered. "But only as a favor to you."

When Chan had gone, she picked up her book again. Presently she laid it aside, put on a wrap, and stepped out on to the deck. Tonight the Pacific belied its name, it was dark angry and tempestuous. The girl went over to the rail and stared into the mist. The fog horn somewhere above her head spoke at frequent intervals in a voice that seemed hoa.r.s.e with anxiety.

Kennaway appeared suddenly at her side. "h.e.l.lo," he remarked. "Mr. Chan gave you my message, I see."

"Oh, it didn't matter," she replied. "I had no intention of going to my cabin. Never be able to sleep with that thing blowing."

They waited until the end of a particularly insistent blast.

"Jolly old horn, isn't it?" Kennaway went on. "Once when I was a kid I got a horn for Christmas. It's a pretty good world."

"Why the sudden cheerfulness?" asked the girl.

"Oh, lots of reasons. I've been worried about something all evening, and I've just found out there was nothing to worry about. Everything's fine. Going ash.o.r.e in the morning - Mr. Tait's son will be waiting - after that, freedom for me. I tell you, I -"

The horn broke in again.

"What were you saying?" asked the girl, when it stopped.

"What was I? Oh, yes. Only myself to take care of, beginning tomorrow."

"It will be a glorious feeling, won't it?"

"I'll say it will. If I shouldn't see you in the morning -"

"Oh, you'll see me."

"Just wanted to tell you that it's been fun knowing you - you're awfully nice, you know. Charming. Don't know what I'd have done without you on this tour. I'll think of you a lot - but no letters, remember -"

The horn shrieked above them. Kennaway continued to shout indistinguishable words. The girl was looking up at him, she seemed suddenly very lovely and appealing. He took her in his arms and kissed her.