Hagar of the Pawn-Shop

by Fergus Hume

  “Dead!” said Hagar again. “Dead!”

  “As a door-nail!” replied the detective in a perplexed tone. “But why—why did she commit suicide?”

  Hagar sighed, and in silence handed to the detective the confession of the dead woman.

  CHAPTER IV. THE THIRD CUSTOMER AND THE JADE IDOL.

  HAGAR was a shrewd, clear-headed girl, who, having been educated in the hard school of Jacob Dix, knew the value of money and the art of driving good bargains. Otherwise she was uncultured and uneducated, although, to speak truly, she had a considerable knowledge of pictures and china, of gems and silverware. But a schoolboy knew more than she did as regards bookish information. She was ignorant of geography, as that science had been taught neither in the gipsy camp nor in the Lambeth pawn-shop. China was to her—ware, and not a vast empire of the East. But when the third customer came to pawn an idol of sea-green jade Hagar learnt something concerning the Celestial Kingdom.

  The man was a sailor, with a coarse face reddened by wind and salt water, and two twinkling blue eyes, which peered at her shrewdly from under shaggy eyebrows. He had strong white teeth, which glistened through a heavy mustache, a head of fair curly hair, and a heavily-built figure well supported on stalwart legs. His rough trousers of blue serge, his black pilot jacket with brass buttons, and his gaudy loose cravat were all redolent of the ocean wave. Rings of gold in his large red ears added to his queer aspect; and he rolled into the shop like one to whom the firm earth is strange after the swinging and pitching of a ship.

  This mariner cast uneasy glances over his shoulder as he entered the shop, and finally swung into one of the sentry boxes like a vessel coming to anchor. Here he took off his gold-banded cap and wiped his rough brow with a red handkerchief of Chinese silk. Hagar, with her hands resting lightly on the counter, waited for him to speak, and was rather surprised when he still kept silent, and still continued to glance over his shoulder in the direction of the door. Finally she lost patience.

  “Well, what can I do for you?” she asked sharply.

  The mariner leant across the counter, and spoke in a hoarse voice like the roaring of waves. “Nathaniel Prime is my name, miss,” he said; almost in a whisper—“Nat fur short; and I’m third mate on board a tea ship as trades from Hong Kong to London’s port and back agin.”

  “Well, Mr. Prime,” said Hagar, as he paused, “what do you want?”

  Nat pulled a small parcel wrapped in a blue check handkerchief out of his pocket, and plumped it on the counter. “I’ve a small article here, miss, as I wants to lodge with you fur safe keeping.”

  “Oh,” said Hagar, adapting this speech to her own ideas, “you want to pawn something. What is it?”

  “It’s Kwan-tai—that’s what it is, miss.”

  Hagar drew back. “What gibberish are you talking?” she asked, frowning.

  “Chinese,” replied the mariner promptly. “Kwan-tai is the god of war in China, miss. This”—he unrolled the handkerchief and displayed a particularly ugly idol—“is his image. I got it from his temple in the Street of the Water Dragon in Canton. Jest look at it, miss—but wait a bit.” He rolled back to the door, stepped out on to the pavement, and looked to right and left. Apparently he was satisfied with this survey, for with a complacent whistle he returned to continue the conversation. “I thought that blamed Chinaman might be arter me,” said he, slipping a plug of tobacco into his capacious mouth; “he’d knife me like pie to get that d—d thing there.”

  “Knife you, man! What do you mean?”

  “Why,” said Mr. Prime, “this China d—l—Yu-ying is his name— wants to git that there god; so, as I don’t want a bowie exploring my inside, I think it’s good biz to leave it with you fur safe keeping.”

  Hagar put down the idol and stepped back. “So you want to transfer the danger to me?” she said, dryly. “No, thank you; take that ugly thing away!”

  “Now, don’t you make any mistake, miss,” said Nat, pushing back the idol in his turn. “Yu-ying don’t know as I’m on this lay. All I wants is to leave Kwan-tai in this here strop for a week. There ain’t no danger in that.”

  Hagar picked up the god again and considered. It was a revoltingly ugly figure carved out of green jade, and had diamonds for eyes, crossed legs, and two large, fan-like hands resting on a protuberant stomach. Not a desirable article to possess, save as a curiosity; but no doubt it had some sacred significance in the almond eyes of Yu-ying; hence his desire to obtain it, even at the cost of a man’s life. For a moment or two Hagar hesitated as to taking Kwan-tai in pawn; but as there seemed to be no immediate danger and might not be any, she resolved to trade. Hagar was so far Hebraic that she never lost the chance of making a bargain; but then, according to some folk, the Romany are one of the ten lost tribes.

  “I’ll give you thirty shillings on it,” she said, abruptly.

  “Thirty bob it is,” assented Nat, promptly, “as all I want is to leave this ‘ere idol in your diggings fur safety. If ‘twas pawning, I guess thirty quid ‘ud be nearer my price. I reckon that there piece of jade is worth two hundred pound!”

  “I don’t know the market value of jade,” retorted Hagar, impatiently. “All my business with you is to lend money on the thing. It’s thirty shillings or nothing.”

  “Don’t I tell you it’s a deal?” said Mr. Prime, shifting the quid of tobacco to the other side of his mouth. “Give us a scratch of the pen to say as you’ve got Kwan-tai in charge.”

  “Name and address?” demanded Hagar, making out the ticket.

  “Nathaniel Prime, mariner, 20, Old Cloe Street, Docks,” said the sailor. “It’s a pub, y’ know, miss—the Nelson. I’ll stand you a drink if you looks me up, and proud to do it fur a slap-up gal like yourself!”

  “Here’s the ticket and the money, Mr. Prime. If that’s all your business, get out sharp!”

  “Sharp’s the word,” said the obedient mariner, slipping the thirty shillings into his pocket; “and if Yu-ying comes smelling round here, jest you up anchor and steer fur me at the Nelson. I’m the bad man from the back of beyond when that heathen’s about!”

  Mr. Prime nodded in a friendly way to Hagar, and rolled out of the shop door. She heard him singing a chanty as he left Carby’s Crescent, and it was only when the roar of his lusty voice died away that she bethought herself of the diamond-eyed idol. Kwan-tai was a very ugly deity, but curious and attractive in his way; so, for the furtherance of business, and to see if there was any truth in Nat’s story about Yu-ying, the girl placed the Chinese god in the shop window. He smiled as complacently there, out of his almond eyes, amongst the dusty wrecks as formerly he had beamed on his worshipers in the Street of the Water Dragon in far Canton.

  Now, if there be one vice above another which ruins the female sex, it is that of curiosity. Here was Hagar told a surprising fact concerning the idol Kwan-tai, and at once she resolved to test if Nat’s story was true. By putting the jade god In the window, she afforded Yu-ying a chance of seeing it; and then, if he wanted to possess the talisman—as it apparently was—she expected that he would enter the shop and offer to purchase it. Not for a moment did she think that he would kill her, or even attempt her life. That statement she believed to be an embellishment of Prime’s to adorn his queer story.

  “And I don’t believe a word of it!” said the doubting Hagar. “However, the jade idol is exposed in the shop window, and we will see what will come of it.”

  Greatly to her surprise, trouble came of her folly, and that speedily. At noon next day she was eating her simple dinner in the back parlor with the door leading into the shop open, so that she might hear the approach of possible customers. Most of the inhabitants of the Crescent were within doors at the midday meal and the little square was quite deserted. Suddenly Hagar heard the crash of glass, and sat paralyzed for the moment in sheer astonishment at the unusual sound. When she recovered her wits and the use of her limbs, she ran rapidly into the shop, and beheld the warning of Nat Prime verifi
ed to the letter. The middle pane of the shop window was broken, and the jade idol was gone. With an ejaculation of surprise and Hagar sprang to the door, and saw a blue-bloused figure racing down the narrow street which led to the thoroughfare.

  “The Chinaman! the Chinaman!” cried Hagar, giving chase. “Thief! stop—stop—thief! Yu-ying! Yu-ying!”

  Followed by a crowd, which had collected like magic in answer to her cries, Hagar sped as lightly as a deer down the alley. But she was no match for the nimble Chinaman. When she reached the crowded street, Yu-ying—as it doubtless was—could not be seen. She appealed to the bystanders, to a stolid policeman, to the cab-drivers; but all to no purpose. Certainly they had seen the Chinese thief flying out of the Carby Crescent cul-de-sac, but no one had taken particular notice of him. Hagar ran this way, that way; looked, questioned, considered; all in vain. Yu-ying had vanished as though the earth had swallowed him up, and with him the jade idol of Nat Prime. Blaming herself for her credulity and headstrong folly in putting Kwan-tai into the window, Hagar returned crestfallen to the pawn-shop. Having placed a temporary barricade before the broken pane, and having sent for the glazier to mend it, Hagar sat down to consider what was to be done relative to the theft.

  Assuredly Prime would return at the end of the week to redeem the jade god, and Hagar did not know what excuse to make for its loss. Without doubt, Yu-ying had followed Nat to the shop on the previous day, and had ascertained the fact of the pawning. He had watched his oppor- tunity to steal the god, as he evidently preferred this illegitimate way, to buying it in a proper manner. Probably Yu-ying, with the astuteness of the Chinese character, guessed that Hagar could not and would not sell it; hence his raid on the shop window. However, the idol was gone, and Hagar judged it wise to advise Nat Prime immediately of the loss. It might be that he knew the whereabouts of Yu-ying, and could tax him with the theft. Thinking this the best course to adopt under the circumstances, Hagar wrote to Prime at the address he had given her. Then she prepared to receive him, and to make the best of a bad business. In her letter she made no mention of the theft.

  It was two days before Prime appeared in person to answer her note; and he explained his negligence by stating that he had been down at Brighton to interview a friend. Then he asked to see the jade idol, to assure himself that it was safe. When Hagar told him of its loss, and of Yu-ying’s exploit, his rage was frightful. He swore volubly for ten minutes; and such was his command of bad language that he scarcely repeated himself in delivering a string of oaths. In his subsequent conversation it may be as well to omit these flowers of speech.

  “I knew that blamed Chinaman had followed me!” he said, when somewhat calmer, “if y’ mind, miss, I went to look if the coast wor clear. He must ha’ sneaked round the corner, I guess. Cuss all Celestials, say I!”

  “I am sorry the idol is gone, Mr. Prime ——”

  “Now, miss, don’s ‘ee say another word. How was a young gal like you to best a Chinky? Why, Yu-ying ‘ud have the teeth out of yer ‘ead afore ye cud say knife!”

  “Still, I am to blame,” persisted Hagar. “I should not have put the jade god in the window.”

  “Winder or no winder, it ‘ud have been jest the same,” returned Nat, gloomily; “if Yu-ying hadn’t got the god so easily, he’d have burgled the shop to get it. Aye, miss, and have cut your throat into the bargain!”

  “Why does he want this idol so particularly?”

  “Fur the same reason as I do. Fifty thousand pounds is the reason!”

  “Fifty thousand pounds!” echoed Hagar, drawing back: “the idol isn’t worth that!”

  “Not in itself, miss; but it kin git that cash. I reckoned to have it myself, and chuck deep-sea sailing; but now I opines that blamed John Chinaman’s scooped the pool.”

  “Why don’t you look up Yu-ying and tax him with the theft?”

  “He’d only lie, miss; and as fur looking him up, I guess he’s made himself mighty scarce by this time. But I’ll go on the trail, anyhow. Good-day t’ ye, miss, and don’t you put trust in them Chinese devils.”

  After which speech Nat rolled away with a philosophical air, leaving Hagar very regretful for having contributed to the loss of the idol by her negligence and perverse folly. All the same, she did not believe the statement about the fifty thousand pounds. Yet, as she might have argued, but did not, Nat had told the truth concerning the desire of Yu-ying to possess the idol, so why should he not have spoken truly concerning the money? And, after all, Hagar knew no details likely to confirm the tale. On consideration she dismissed Nat and Yu-ying and the jade Kwan-tai from her thoughts, and considered that she had purchased a new experience at the cost of thirty shillings.

  In the meantime, Nat was seated in the taproom of the Nelson, down the docks way, with a pipe in his mouth and a tankard of beer before him. For several days he had sat thus alone waiting—as would appear from his expectant attitude—for some visitor. Four days after the loss of the idol, he was no longer by himself, for in a chair near him sat a dried-up, alert man clothed in black, with bright eyes and a keen expression. This individual was a gentleman—a doctor—and the visitor expected by Nat Prime.

  “If y’d on’y come a week ago, I’d not have pawned the idol,” said Nat, in a gloomy tone, “an’ the blamed thing wouldn’t have been lost.”

  “Yes, yes; I see, I see. But why did you pawn it?” asked the doctor, fretfully.

  “Why,” said Prime, drily, “‘cause I didn’t want my throat cut by Yu-ying; as long as I carried that idol on me, my life wasn’t worth a red cent!”

  “How did Yu-ying learn the value of the idol?”

  “He was a priest in the war-god’s temple, I reckon. I’ve seed him do joss-pigeon a dozen times; and when he kim on board the Havelock as stewart I guessed as he wos arter the idol. But I slept with one eye open,” added Nat, triumphantly, “an’ I guess he didn’t best me till I put Kwan-tai into that blamed pop-shop!”

  “But I don’t see how he gained a knowledge of the iron box in London,” persisted the doctor, irritably, “or learnt about Poa’s treasure.”

  Prime drank some beer, and leant forward to speak, emphasizing his remarks by means of his pipe stem. “Now, look’ee here, Dr. Dick,” said he, slowly, “what wos it y’ told me a year ago, afore I went this trip to Chiner?”

  “Why,” said Dr. Dick, thoughtfully, “I told you that my uncle had been at the sack of the Summer Palace in Pekin. Chinese helped to loot the place as well as the French and English. Among these a priest called Poa collected a number of small gold images of Kwan-tai to the value of fifty thousand pounds, and fled with them to England. He placed these in an iron box, and left it with a countryman of his own in London. After selling a few of the images he returned to China, and to his service as a priest in the Temple of Kwan-tai in Canton. He intended to send for the iron box, and restore the images of the god to his temple; but, struck down by sickness, he was unable to carry out his intention. Fearful of being tortured for sacrilege if he told the truth, Poa wrote in Chinese characters a description of the whereabouts of the treasure in London, and placed the paper in the interior of a small jade idol, with diamond eyes, which stood in the Kwan-tai Temple in the Street of the Water Dragon. My uncle did some service for Poa, who, out of gratitude, told him the secret. Shortly afterwards he died, and my uncle, unable to gain access to the temple and steal the idol, was forced to return to England. He took up his residence at Christchurch, Hants, and died there, leaving a paper telling the story of Poa’s treasure. I found the paper two years ago, and knowing you were trading to Canton, I came up to see you.”

  “Yes,” said Prime, taking up the thread of the story, “and you asked me to get the jade idol out of that there temple. Well, I stole it, and I believe that pig of a Yu-ying saw me stealing. Any rate, he turned up aboard of the Havelock, and somehow—I can’t guess in what way—he learnt the whole yarn, and tried to git back the idol. I bested him on the voyage; and when I kim ashore I expected
to find you and get the iron box right away. I ——”

  “I was ill,” interrupted Dick, impatiently. “I couldn’t come up. You might have got the treasure yourself and then shared it with me.”

  “Now, that’s blamed silly, doctor! I couldn’t read the Chinese writing which I found inside the idol; and as you’re a Chinese scholard — taught by your uncle, y’ said—I waited fur you to kim up and read it. Fur safety, I put the idol in the pop-shop, and Yu-ying—cuss him — followed me and stole it. So I guess by this time he’s got the whole lot of the golden gods.”

  “Probably; but how did he learn that they were in existence, and that the production of the jade idol was necessary to obtain the treasure of Poa?”

  “Can’t say, sir, onless that Poa told some of his brother priests.”

  “Poa died fifteen years ago,” replied Dick, sharply; “if he had told them on his death-bed, they would not have waited all this time to get the treasure.”

  “Well, I calc’late as they’ve annexed the same this trip,” said Nat, coolly.

  While thus conversing, the landlord of the Nelson entered the tap-room, and informed Prime that a lady wished to see him. Rather surprised—for he had few female friends—Nat instructed that the visitor should be admitted. In a moment or so she appeared on the threshold, and, to his still greater surprise, Nat beheld Hagar.

  “‘Tis the pop-shop gal!” he said, rising. “And what might you want, miss?”

  “To restore to you the jade idol,” replied Hagar, taking the god Kwan-tai out of her pocket.

  “Glory alleluia!” shouted Nat, snatching it from her grasp. “How the creation did you git it?”

  “When I opened the shop door this morning, it was hanging to the knob by a string.”

  “Yu-ying couldn’t make anything out of it, I guess. Here, doctor, see if the paper’s inside.”

  Dick, in a state of considerable excitement, having been previously instructed by his uncle’s paper how to discover the secret, unscrewed the head of the idol. When removed, a cavity was revealed; inside the cavity a strip of rice paper, scrawled with Chinese characters in vermilion.