The door-bell rang briskly, there ensued a snappy bit of dialogue in the hall and Jimmy Bradshaw burst through the curtains. He was, it seemed, in a light-hearted mood.
“Here we all are,” he cried. “Everybody who really matters. Well, Miss Fane, how does it feel to be foot-loose and care-free on a palm-fringed shore - way down in the warm southern seas?”
“It’s really very restful,” Shelah smiled. She nodded at Julie. “I’ll be back in a moment. I want a pin for these flowers.”
She disappeared into the hall, and Bradshaw turned quickly to the girl.
“You’re looking great,” he cried. “It’s the climate. Not that you didn’t look fairly good at the start -“
“Tell me,” she cut in. “What do you think of Shelah?”
“Shelah?” He paused. “Oh, she’s all right. Nice and friendly but - a bit artificial - a good actress, on and off. In the past two years I’ve met enough screen stars to start a Hollywood of my own, and what I always say is - doffing my hat to southern California - you can have ‘em.”
“You don’t really know Shelah,” protested the girl.
“No, I guess not. She’s been kind to you, and that makes her aces up with me. But my own preference in women - and I’ve looked very carefully over the field -“
“Oh, you have, have you?”
“My ideal - since you’ve asked me, and I’m glad you have - is a rather different sort. Lovely, of course, young, innocent, ingenuous - and pretty crazy about yours truly. That - and you may quote me freely - is the girl for me.”
Diana came suddenly through the curtains. She, too, still wore an afternoon gown.
“Hello, big boy,” she said. “You ready for that swim with me?”
“Sure,” replied Bradshaw. “With you - and anybody else who wants to come along.” He looked at Julie. “Let’s go. Before the moon rises is my idea. It’s the best time. Any one else going - or is it just - the three of us?”
Julie shook her head. “No one else, I guess. The others are afraid of spoiling their make-up.”
“Which is one advantage of youth over doddering age,” the boy returned. “Well, come along -“
Shelah appeared, wearing the orchids on her shoulder.
“Just about to dip into the world-famed waters of Waikiki,” Jimmy informed her. “Won’t you join us?”
“Some other evening,” she told him. “You know, I’m hostess tonight.”
“You are missing,” said Bradshaw impressively, “one of the thrills of a lifetime. The silken surf beating on coral sand, the dark, star-strewn sky above, perhaps the pastel loveliness of a lunar rainbow - boats run from Los Angeles and San Francisco once a week, and the fare is within the reach of all -“
The door-bell rang again. Accompanied by Shelah, the young people went out into the hall.
“Get your suit,” Julie said to the boy. “I’ll show you where to change. Let’s make it a race. The first one into the water gets a prize.”
“I’ll win it,” answered Bradshaw. “I’ll name it too.” They clattered up the polished stairs.
Again the bell sounded. Shelah was just beside the door, but she did not open it; she considered such an act beneath the dignity of a star. Instead she returned to the living-room and waited for Jessop to do his duty. After a brief delay, he did it, and two new guests appeared in the living-room. Shelah advanced to meet them - a dark, rather faded woman of thirty, followed by a big blond man who had an air of nonchalant authority.
“Rita Ballou,” the star cried. “Why - it’s ages! And Wilkie - I’m so glad.”
“Hello, darling,” said the woman she called Rita.
The man came forward. “Look here, Shelah. What time did you say dinner was to be?”
“Eight-thirty - but it doesn’t matter -“
Ballou turned to his wife. “Good lord - can’t you ever get anything straight?”
“What’s the difference?” the woman replied. “We can have a chat with Shelah before the others come.” She turned to the star. “So sorry we missed you when you went through before. We were on the mainland.”
“Haven’t missed you this time, thank heaven,” added Wilkie Ballou. “By gad, you’re as blooming as ever.”
“How do you do it?” inquired Rita sweetly. Her cold eyes flashed green with envy as she looked at Shelah.
“She’s found the fountain of youth,” suggested Wilkie admiringly.
“I’ve always heard that was in Hawaii,” smiled the star. She looked hard at Rita. “But it isn’t,” the look added.
Rita understood. “Not at all,” she said grimly. “It’s in the beauty shops of Hollywood, and you know it. Over here, women fade quickly -“
“Nonsense,” protested Shelah.
“Yes, they do. Oh - I’ve learned my lesson - too late. I should have stayed in Hollywood and gone on with my career.”
“But, my dear, - surely you’re happy with Wilkie?”
“Of course. The way I would be with the toothache.”
Wilkie shrugged. “Overlook it, Shelah,” he said. “We’ve been rowing all the way out here. Rita’s nerves, you know.”
“Is that so?” remarked his wife. “I guess any one would have nerves with a husband like you. Honestly, Shelah, he’s got a better imagination than what’s his name - Shakespeare. If he’d only drop sugar planting and go in for writing scenarios - but never mind us. Tell me all about Hollywood. I’d love to be back.”
“I’m making a long stop here - we’ll have lots of time to chat later,” Shelah explained. “Some of the crowd are going for a swim before dinner. Care to go along?”
Rita put one hand to her perfect coiffure, and shrugged. “Not for me,” she cried. “I’m so sick of swimming I gag at the sight of my tub. You’ve no idea, my dear - three years married and living in Honolulu - these people over here are like fish. They suffocate when you bring ‘em ashore.”
They heard the noise of a new arrival in the hall, and Alan Jaynes came into the room, handsome and upstanding in his dinner clothes. Shelah’s heart sank suddenly at sight of him. While she was introducing him to the Ballous, Julie and Jimmy Bradshaw rushed in, wearing gay beach robes over their bathing-suits. They paused, with obvious reluctance, for further introductions.
“Where’s Miss Dixon?” Bradshaw inquired. “She hasn’t gone out, has she?”
“Nonsense,” cried Julie. “Diana will take ages. She always does.”
“Then the race is between us two,” said the boy, and dashed through the open window on to the lanai, with Julie at his heels.
“What a good-looking boy,” Rita remarked. “Who is he?”
Shelah explained Mr. Bradshaw’s place in the world’s work. Rita stood up.
“Let’s all go down to the beach,” she said.
“The beach - in high-heeled slippers?” protested Wilkie.
“I can take them off, can’t I?” Rita demanded. She was moving toward the window.
“Go along,” the star said. “Well follow later.”
Rita went out.
Without enthusiasm, Wilkie lifted his great bulk from the chair. “That means I go, too,” he explained, and did so.
Shelah turned to Alan Jaynes with a nervous little laugh. “Poor Wilkie - he’s so jealous. And with reason, I’m afraid - at least, he had reason in the old days.”
Jaynes came quickly to her side. “So sorry I couldn’t see you this afternoon. Your headache - it’s better, I trust?”
She nodded. “Much better.”
“I’ve brought you a bit of an offering. It’s hardly worthy of you, of course.” He handed her a corsage bouquet wrapped in tissue-paper.
She unwrapped it. “Lovely,” she said.
“But too late,” remarked Jaynes. “I see you’re wearing some one’s orchids.”
Shelah laid his gift on a table. “Yes, Alan.”
“I hope that doesn’t mean -” he began, frowning. “Shelah - it can’t mean that. I - I couldn’t go on without yo
u.”
She faced him. “You’ll have to, Alan. I’m so sorry. But I - I can’t marry you.”
His expression clouded. “It’s true, then,” he said.
“What’s true?”
“The thing Van Horn told me this afternoon. I refused to believe it of you - it’s too childish - too ignorant. You sent for that damned fortune-telling charlatan, and he decided it for you. He advised you not to take me.” She turned away, without speaking. The man’s face flushed with anger. “If you had any sane reason,” he continued, controlling himself with an effort, “I’d take my medicine quietly. But this - this is too much. To let a fakir - a crystal-gazer - a cheap fraud, come between us - by the lord, I won’t stand for it. I thought on the boat you loved me -“
“Maybe I did,” she answered sadly.
“Then nothing in this world shall stop me -“
“Wait, Alan, wait, please,” she cried. “It’s for you - I’m doing this for you. You must believe that. There could be no happiness for us -“
“So that’s what he told you, eh?”
“That’s what he told me, but he was only repeating what was in my heart. The past, Alan - the past won’t die -“
“I’ve told you I don’t give a hang about what’s past.”
“Oh, but you don’t know, Alan - and I can’t tell you. I’m trying to do the decent thing - you’re so fine and straight - I couldn’t bear it if I ended by dragging you through the dust. Please, Alan, please -“
“I don’t want to understand,” Jaynes cried. “I only want you - to love and take care of - see here, my time is brief, so pitifully brief. I must leave at midnight - you know that. Forget this fool of a fortune-teller. I can’t understand your faith in him, I can’t approve it, but I’m willing to overlook it. You aren’t to blame, I fancy. Your temperament, your way of life. Forget him, my dear, and give me your word before I go -“
She shook her head. “I can’t,” she said brokenly. “I can’t.”
For a long moment Jaynes looked at her. Then, with great dignity, he turned on his heel.
“Where are you going?” Shelah cried.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I must think this thing out.”
“But you’re dining here -“
“I don’t know,” the man repeated. “I couldn’t talk to your friends just now. I want to be alone for a few minutes. I may return later.” He seemed dazed, uncertain of himself.
Shelah was at his side, her hand on his sleeve. “Alan, I’m so sorry - so unhappy.”
He turned, and took her in his arms. “By heaven - you loved me on the ship. I won’t give you up. I can’t.” His glance fell on the orchids, fastened to the shoulder-strap of her gown by a small diamond pin. “No one shall take you from me,” he cried and, releasing her, went quickly out.
Shelah Fane walked slowly to a chair, and dropped into it. Pain and a desperate unhappiness were in her face, and she was not acting now. For a few moments she sat there, then gradually came back to her surroundings. She glanced at her watch - a quarter of eight. Quickly she rose and went to the French windows at the rear.
The moon was still in hiding, and the broad lawn that lay between the house and the pounding surf was shrouded in darkness. She heard, far away, the exultant cry of Julie battling with a breaker, and then the answering call of Jimmy Bradshaw. There was an odd air of expectancy about her as she stepped out on the lanai. She crossed it to the screen door that opened on to the lawn and stood there, peering out. Under a near-by hau tree she thought she saw, in the blackness, an even blacker shadow. Suddenly it moved. With a little cry of recognition, she flung open the door and ran swiftly across the grass.
Meanwhile, Alan Jaynes was striding grimly along Kalakaua Avenue in the direction of the Grand Hotel. Five minutes brought him to the cool lofty lobby of that famous hostelry. He passed the head bell-man, whose smile of welcome froze suddenly on his face as he caught the look in the Britisher’s eyes.
Jaynes turned to the left, moving past shop windows filled with jade and Oriental silks, then past the flower booth where, earlier in the evening, he had purchased the bouquet which now lay unappreciated on Shelah Fane’s table. In another moment he reached the entrance to the big lounge of the hotel, and stood there at the top of a short flight of steps.
It was a beautiful room, with those three great arches opposite the entrance like triple paintings of the tropic sky. But Jaynes had no eye for beauty tonight. Most of the guests were at dinner, and the lounge had a deserted air. Seated not far away, however, talking pleasantly with an elderly couple who had the look of tourists, the Britisher saw the man he wanted.
He descended the steps, and crossed to this man’s chair. “Stand up,” he ordered in a husky voice.
Tarneverro the Great looked at him with an expressionless face. “I should have expected a bit more courtesy,” he said evenly. “But then - I scarcely know you.”
“Stand up,” Jaynes repeated, “and come with me. I want a talk with you.”
For a moment the fortune-teller sat, quietly measuring the man who towered above him. Then he rose, and making his apologies to the two old people, he walked at Jaynes’ side down the long room.
“What is all this -” he began.
They stopped at an archway near the far end. Outside a series of brilliant lights bathed the hotel lawn in white, making an ideal stage-setting for some drama of the tropics. But the stage was empty; the drama was all inside the lounge.
“I want an explanation,” said Jaynes roughly.
“An explanation of what?”
“I have done myself the honor of asking Miss Shelah Fane to marry me. I had every reason to believe she intended to do so - but today she consulted you about the matter - a matter that concerns you not at all. You advised her against a marriage with me.”
Tarneverro shrugged. “I do not discuss with outsiders what goes on at my readings.”
“You’re going to discuss it with me. Make up your mind to that!”
“Suppose I did - what could I say? I tell my clients only what I see in the crystal -“
“Rot!” cried Jaynes. “You tell them whatever happens to suit your fancy. What was your reason for this advice to Shelah?” He came closer and stared into the seer’s face. “Are you, by any chance, in love with her yourself?”
The fortune-teller smiled. “Miss Fane is most charming -“
“We don’t need your evidence on that point -“
“Most charming, but I do not permit myself the unwise luxury of a sentimental attachment for my clients. I advised her as I did because I saw no happiness possible in this proposed marriage.” His tone grew serious. “Incidentally, whether you appreciate it or not, I did you a favor to-day.”
“Really?” said Jaynes. “But I’m not asking favors of a mountebank like you.”
A dark flush spread over Tarneverro’s face. “There can be no point in prolonging this interview,” he remarked, and turned away.
Jaynes seized him quickly by the arm. “We’ll prolong it this far. You are going to Miss Fane at once and tell her you’re a fraud, a fake, and that you wish to retract all you said to her to-day.”
Tarneverro shook off the other’s grasp. “And if I refuse?” he said.
“If you refuse,” Jaynes answered, “I propose to give you a thrashing you won’t forget for many a day.”
“I do refuse,” said Tarneverro quietly.
Jaynes’ arm shot back, only to find itself in a surprisingly firm grip. He turned. Val Martino, the director, was at his side; his was the grip on the Britisher’s arm. Beyond Martino, Huntley Van Horn, resplendent in Hollywood evening garb, looked on with an air of amused interest.
“Now, now,” bellowed Martino, his face even redder than usual. “Cut this out, please. Too much of it in the pictures already. We can’t have it, Jaynes, we can’t have it.”
For a moment the four stood motionless. A new figure strolled upon the scene, a broad bulky Chinese in a dinner
coat. Tarneverro hailed him. “Ah, Inspector Chan. Just a moment, please.”
Charlie came closer. “It is Mr. Tarneverro,” he remarked. “‘The lifter of the veil.’”
“Inspector,” the fortune-teller said, “may I present Mr. Van Horn, and Mr. Martino? And this is Mr. Alan Jaynes. Inspector Chan, of the Honolulu police.”
Chan bowed gracefully. “The honor is immense. Distinguished company, as a blind man could see.”
Jaynes glared at Tarneverro. “Very good,” he sneered. “Hide behind the skirts of the police. It’s what I would expect of you.”
“Now, now,” Martino interposed. “A slight misunderstanding, Inspector. There will be no trouble - I am sure the good name of the industry is too precious to all of us. It is certainly very precious to me.”
Van Horn looked at his watch. “Eight o’clock,” he announced. “I believe I’ll roll along down to Shelah’s. Anybody coming?”
The director shook his head. “Not yet. I’ll be down presently.” The actor walked slowly away. Martino, his grip still firm on the Britisher’s arm, sought to lead him off. “Come out on the terrace,” he pleaded. “We’ll talk this matter over.”
Jaynes turned to the fortune-teller. “I’m not sailing until twelve,” he said. “In the meantime, we may meet again.” He permitted Martino to lead him down the room.
“I trust that last prediction falls short of truth,” Chan said to Tarneverro. “I do not have much liking for light I observe in gentleman’s eye.”
Tarneverro laughed. “Oh, he’ll come around. I have offended him, quite unintentionally.” He looked thoughtfully at Charlie. “By the way, Inspector, this is a happy meeting. I was thinking of calling you up. Just how do you plan to spend the evening?”
Charlie Chan [4] The Black Camel Page 3