Charlie Chan - Charlie Chan Carries On Part 27

"That's the stuff to give a jury," remarked the Britisher, with satisfaction.

"The key was planted there," cried Ross. "I deny everything."

"Everything?" Charlie's eyes narrowed. "Last night we sat together, watching Mr. Benbow's pictures. Flickering film revealed you emerging from doorway of a shop in Nice. Did you think that I failed to notice? I might have - but for days I have known you guilty -"

"What!" Ross was unable to conceal his surprise.

"I will explain in moment. Just now, I speak of Nice. Jimmy Breen, the tailor, remembers. He recalls gray coat with torn right pocket -"

Ross started to speak, but the detective raised his hand.

"Cards lie against you -" Charlie went on. "You are clever man, you have high opinion of yourself, and it is difficult for you to believe that you have failed. Such, however, is the situation. Clever - ah, yes. Clever when you hid that key on Mr. Kennaway's bag - a bag that would naturally be thrust under bed and forgotten until hour of landing was imminent once more. Clever when you discarded rubber tip from stick, then carried same in wrong hand, hoping some keen eye would notice. So many were under suspicion, you thought to gain by being suspected too, and then extricating yourself in convincing manner - which I must admit you did. You were clever again last night when you fired wild shot at me and dropped smoking revolver beside poor Mr. Tait. It was cruel act - but you are cruel man. And what a useless gesture! For, as I remarked before, I have known for several days that you were guilty person."

"You don't tell me," Ross sneered. "And how did you know it?"

"I knew it because there was one moment when you were not quite so clever, Mr. Ross. That moment arrived at Mr. Minchin's dinner. You made a speech there. It was brief speech, but it contained one word - one careless little word. That word convicted you."

"Really? What word was that?"

Charlie took out a card and wrote something on it. He handed it to Ross. "Keep same as souvenir," he suggested.

The man glanced at it. His face was white, and suddenly very old. He tore the card into shreds and tossed them to the floor.

"Thanks," he said bitterly, "but I'm not collecting souvenirs. Well - what happens next?"

Chapter XXIII.

TIME TO DRY THE NETS.

What happened next was that a customs inspector knocked on the door, and in that strained atmosphere made his examination of the hand luggage belonging to both Vivian and Ross. He was followed by a steward who carried the bags below. Vivian slipped out, and Kashimo, after a brief word with Charlie, also departed.

Captain Flannery took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. "Getting pretty hot down here," he remarked to Wales. "Let's take this bird up to the library and hear what he's got to say for himself."

"I have nothing to say," Ross put in grimly.

"Is that so? Well, I've seen men in your position change their minds." Flannery went first, then Ross, and Wales was close behind. Charlie brought up the rear.

They pa.s.sed Mark Kennaway on the stairs. Chan stopped for a word.

"We have our man," he announced.

"Ross!" Kennaway cried. "Good lord!"

"I suggest you pa.s.s among members of travel party, clearing name of poor Mr. Tait."

"Watch me," the young man replied. "I'll beat the time of Paul Revere - and he had a horse."

Coming out on to the open deck, Charlie realized for the first time that they were moving again. On the right were the low buildings of the Presidio, and up ahead the fortress of Alcatraz Island. All about him the ship's pa.s.sengers were milling, in a last frenzy of farewell.

Flannery and Wales were sitting with their quarry in the otherwise deserted library. Charlie closed the door behind him, and the racket outside subsided to a low murmur.

As the Chinese went over to join the group, Ross gave him a look of bitter hatred. In the man's eyes there was now a light that recalled to Chan's mind a luncheon over which he had sat with Duff a week ago. "You seek evidently two men," he had said to the English detective on that occasion. This was no longer the gentle, mild-mannered Ross the travel party had known; it was the other man, hard, merciless and cruel.

"You'd better come across," Flannery was saying. Ross's only reply was a glance of contempt.

"The captain is giving you good advice," remarked Wales pleasantly. His methods were more suave than those of Flannery. "In all my professional career I never encountered a case in which the evidence was quite so strong as it is here - thanks, of course, to Inspector Chan. It is my duty to warn you that anything you say may be used against you. But my suggestion would be that you plan to plead guilty -"

"To something I didn't do?" flared Ross.

"Oh, come, come. We have not only the key, but the information from the tailor who -"

"Yes, and how about a motive?" The voice of the accused man rose. "I don't give a d.a.m.n for all your keys and your coats - you can't prove any motive. That's important, and you know it. I never saw any of these people I'm supposed to have murdered before - I've lived on the west coast of the States for years - I -"

"You had a very obvious motive, Mr. Ross," Wales answered politely. "Or perhaps I should say - Mr. Everhard. Jim Everhard, I believe."

The man's face turned a ghastly gray, and for a moment he seemed about to collapse. He was fighting for the strength that had sustained him thus far, but he fought in vain.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Everhard - or Ross, if you prefer," Wales went on evenly. "Judging by information that came in to the Yard only a few days ago, your motive is only too clear. We haven't worried recently about motive - we've worried only as to your ident.i.ty. Inspector Chan has cleverly discovered that. When the jury asks for a motive, we have only to tell them of your days in South Africa - of how Honywood stole your girl -"

"And my diamonds," cried Ross. "My diamonds and my girl. But she was as bad as he was -" He had half risen from his chair, now he fell back, suddenly silent.

Wales glanced at Charlie. Their eyes met, but they were careful to conceal the elation with which they heard those words from Ross.

"You went out to South Africa some fifteen years ago, I believe," the sergeant continued, "as a violinist in a musical comedy company orchestra. Sybil Conway was leading woman in the troupe, and you fell in love with her. But she was ambitious, she wanted money, stardom, success. You came into a small inheritance, but it wasn't enough. It was enough, however, to launch you into a business - a shady business - the trade of the I. D. B. Buying diamonds from natives, from thieves. Inside a year you had two bags filled with these stolen stones. Sybil Conway promised to marry you. You went on one last tour to the vicinity of the diamond fields, leaving those two bags with your girl in Capetown. And when you came back to her -"

"I saw him," Ross finished. "Oh, what's the use - you're too much for me - you and this Chinese. I saw him the first night after I got back - Walter Honywood Swan, that was his name. It was in the little parlor of the house where Sybil Conway was living."

"A younger son," Wales suggested. "A ne'er-do-well at home - out there a member of the South African police."

"Yes, I knew he was with the police. After he'd gone, I asked Sybil what it meant. She said the fellow was suspicious, that he was after me, and that I'd better get away at once. She would follow when the show closed. There was a boat leaving at midnight - a boat for Australia. She hurried me aboard - in the dark on the deck just before I sailed, she slipped me the two little bags. I could feel the stones inside. I didn't dare look at them then. She kissed me good-by - and we parted.

"When the boat was well out, I went to my cabin and examined the bags. The little bags of stones. That's what they were - wash leather bags, each filled with about a hundred pebbles of various sizes. I'd been done. She preferred that policeman to me. She'd sold me out."

"So you went to Australia." Wales gently urged him on. "You heard there that Sybil Conway and Swan were married, and that he now called himself Walter Honywood. You wrote, promising to kill them both. But you were broke - it wasn't so easy to reach them. The years went by. Eventually you drifted to the States. You prospered, became a respectable citizen. The old urge for revenge was gone. And then - suddenly - it returned."

Ross looked up. His eyes were bloodshot. "Yes," he said slowly, "it returned."

"How was that?" Wales continued. "Did it happen after you hurt your foot? When you lay there, idle, alone, plenty of time to think -"

"Yes - and something to think about," Ross cried. "The whole affair came back to me as vividly as yesterday. What they'd done to me - do you wonder I thought? And I'd let them get away with it." He looked wildly about him. "I tell you, if ever a man was justified -"

"No, no," Wales protested. "You should have forgotten the past. You'd be a happy man to-day if you had. Don't expect any mercy on that score. Were you justified in killing Drake -"

"A mistake. I was sorry. It was dark in that room."

"And Sergeant Welby - as fine a chap as I ever knew?"

"I had to do it."

"And your attempt to kill Duff -"

"I didn't attempt to kill him. I'd have done it if I had meant to. No, I only wanted to put him out for the moment -"

"You have been ruthless and cruel, Ross," Wales said sternly. "And you will have to pay for it."

"I expect to pay."

"How much better for you," Wales went on, "if you had never attempted your belated vengeance. But you did attempt it. When your foot was better, I see you gathering up all your valuables, your savings, and leaving Tacoma for ever. You put all your property in the safety-deposit box of a bank in some strange town. Where? We shall know presently. You set out for New York to find the Honywood pair. Walter Honywood was about to make a tour around the world. You booked for the same party.

"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 ash.o.r.e 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 pa.s.sengers were gathered about the top of the plank.

"Well, what of it?" Ross said. "How about going ash.o.r.e?"

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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sist?"

"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 a.s.sistant. "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 j.a.panese 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 a.s.sured 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.

"h.e.l.lo," 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."