"I investigate outside the house," Kashimo remarked.
"Much the safest place to have you," Chan returned. "By all means investigate very hard."
The Japanese went out.
Charlie removed the table cover, and sat down. On the smooth top he began carefully to lay together the pieces of the photograph. The task, he saw, was going to be long and arduous. "I never was bright man with jigsaw puzzle," he complained. "My daughter Rose was pride of family at that work. I would enjoy to have her at my side."
He had made scant progress when the door of the lanai opened, and a group of the guests entered the living-room. Wilkie Ballou walked at the head, and after him came Van Horn, Martino, Jaynes and Rita Ballou. Diana Dixon followed; she seemed detached from the crowd, which had the air of a delegation.
A delegation it was, evidently. Ballou began to speak, in his most commanding tone.
"See here, Inspector - we've talked it over and there's no earthly reason why you should keep us here any longer. We've all been questioned, we've told you what we know, and now we propose to leave."
Charlie tossed down the as yet unplaced bits of the photograph and rose. He bowed politely.
"I recognize you are impatient with good reason," he said.
"Then you're willing for us to go along?" inquired Ballou.
"I am - and I say it with extreme pain - quite unwilling," Chan replied. "Unfortunately, new developments keep popping off like firecrackers on New Year holiday, and I have something still to talk about with you."
"An outrage!" Ballou cried. "I'll have your badge for this."
Charlie rewarded him with a maddening smile. "That may happen - to-morrow. But looking only at to-night, I am placed in charge of this case, and I say - you will remain here until I tell you to depart."
Jaynes pushed forward. "I have important business on the mainland, and I intend to sail at midnight. It is now long past ten. I warn you that you must call out your entire force if you propose to keep me here -"
"That also can be done," answered Charlie amiably.
"Good lord!" The Britisher looked helplessly at Wilkie Ballou. "What kind of place is this? Why don't they send a white man out here?"
A rare light flared suddenly in Charlie's eyes. "The man who is about to cross a stream should not revile the crocodile's mother," he said in icy tones.
"What do you mean by that?" Jaynes asked.
"I mean you are not yet safely on the farther bank."
"You know damn well I've got an alibi," cried the Britisher angrily.
Chan's little eyes surveyed him from head to foot. "I am not so sure I do," he remarked calmly.
"You said yourself you had fixed the time of this affair -"
"How sad," cut in Charlie, "that we pass through this life, making so many errors as we go. Me, I am stupid blunderer. Your alibi, Mr. Jaynes, has been punctured like bubble with a pin."
"What!" cried Jaynes.
Van Horn and Martino stirred with sudden interest.
"Back off and cool down," Chan continued. "And accepting my advice, speak no more of alibis. You have already said too much."
Like a man dazed, Jaynes almost literally obeyed Chan's orders. Charlie turned to Rita Ballou.
"Madam, my humblest apologies and regrets. I hold you here with the utmost grief. It has occurred to me that there is a dinner long prepared - I fear the passage of time has wrecked most of it now. But if I might suggest -"
"Oh, I couldn't eat a thing," Rita told him.
"No, of course, the very thought is horrifying," Chan nodded. "Such heartlessness would be quite out of place." Julie and Bradshaw came in. "Nevertheless I urge that you all go out to your positions at the table and at least partake of one cup of coffee. The event will shatter strain, and make easier the period of waiting. Coffee, as you know, stimulates and fortifies the mind."
"Not a bad idea," said Huntley Van Horn.
"Miss Julio -" Chan suggested.
The girl smiled wanly. "Yes, of course. I'll tell Jessop to get things ready. You must forgive me. I'd quite forgotten we had guests to-night."
She turned and went out. Charlie walked back to the small table where his task lay uncompleted. At that instant a French window facing the street was thrust suddenly open, and the trade-wind swept into the room like a miniature hurricane. Instantly the air was filled with torn bits of photograph, swirling about like snow in a Minnesota blizzard.
Kashimo stuck his head into the room. "S-s-s," he hissed. "Charlie!"
"Splendid work, Kashimo," said Chan through his teeth. "What is it now?"
"I find window unlocked," announced the Japanese triumphantly, and withdrew, closing the aperture behind him.
Concealing his disgust, Charlie moved around the room, retrieving the bits of photograph from most unlikely places. Tarneverro and some of the others came promptly to his aid. In a few moments, he again held a little packet of scraps in his hand. He walked about, still seeking, but no more were in sight.
He resumed his place at the table, and for a few moments he worked hard. Then he shrugged his shoulders, and stood up.
"What's the trouble?" Tarneverro asked.
Charlie looked at him. "No use. I have now little more than half the pieces I had before." For a moment he stood staring about that innocent-appearing little group. It was in his mind to search every one of them, but a glance at Ballou reminded him that such action would mean a hot battle, and he was ever a man of peace. No, he must reach his goal by some other path. He sighed, and placed what he had left of the photograph in his pocket, as Kashimo dashed in. More in sorrow than in anger Charlie regarded his ambitious confrere.
"Detectives were practically extinct at station house when they sent you out to-night," he said.
The door-bell rang, a loud, insistent peal. Jessop being in the distant kitchen, Jimmy Bradshaw went to the door. Those in the living-room heard a few sharp quick words in the hall, and a man strode into their midst. He was a handsome fellow of forty, gray at the temples, with great poise of manner and a keen eye. The greasepaint of the theater was still on his face. He stood, looking-about him.
"Good evening," he said. "I am Robert Fyfe - at one time the husband of Miss Shelah Fane. This is terrible news some one telephoned me a short time ago. I came the instant my part in the piece was finished - without stopping to remove my make-up or change my costume. Most unprofessional - but I must ask you to overlook it."
"Shall I take your overcoat?" Jimmy Bradshaw asked.
"Thank you so much." He stepped to the curtains and handed Jimmy the coat. As he turned back toward the room, Diana Dixon's scream rang out, shrill and unexpected. She was pointing at Robert Fyfe's shirtfront.
Diagonally across that white expanse lay the bright red ribbon of the Legion of Honor. Startled, Fyfe looked down at it.
"Ah, yes," he said. "I came in my stage costume, as I told you. This week, you see, I happen to be playing the role of a French ambassador."
Chapter VIII
THE BEACH-COMBER'S SHOES
During the long silence that followed, Charlie stood gravely regarding this handsome actor who had, all unknowing, made the best entrance of his career. The actor looked back at him with a cool level stare. Still no one spoke, and Fyfe began to realize that the gaze of every one in the room was upon him. Accustomed though he was to the scrutiny of crowds, he found something a bit disconcerting in this situation. He stirred uneasily, and sought for words to break the spell.
"What is all this about Shelah? I came at the earliest possible moment, as I say. Though I had not seen her for many years -"
"How many years?" cried Chan quickly.
Fyfe looked him over casually. "You must pardon me," he said, "if I do not at once grasp your position here -"
Nonchalantly Charlie pushed back the left side of his coat, revealing his badge of office. It was a gesture of which an actor could approve - business, not words.
"I am in charge," Chan said. "You were, you
say, at one time husband of Miss Shelah Fane. You have not seen her for many years. How many?"
Fyfe considered. "It was nine years ago, in April, when we parted. We were both playing in New York - Miss Fane in a Ziegfeld revue at the New Amsterdam, and I was doing a mystery play at the Astor. She came home one night and told me she had a splendid offer to go to Hollywood for a picture - she was so excited, so keen for the idea, that I hadn't the heart to oppose her. A week later, on an April evening, I said good-by to her at the Grand Central Station, wondering how long I could hold her love. Not very long, as it turned out. Within a year she went to Reno, and it was all quite painless - for her, I fancy. Not quite so painless for me - although I had felt it coming, that night at the station. Something had told me then that I was seeing her for the last time."
"You no doubt appeared in Los Angeles in later years," Chan suggested, "at moments when Miss Fane was in Hollywood?"
"Oh, yes - of course. But we never met."
"Do you happen to recall - were you playing in Los Angeles three years ago, in June?"
Charlie was struck by the look that came into the actor's eyes. Was it, perhaps, a look of understanding? "No," said Fyfe firmly. "I was not."
"You are plenty positive," Chan commented.
"I happen to be - yes," Fyfe replied. "Three years ago I was touring with a company that did not reach the coast."
"It is a matter that can easily be verified," the detective reminded him slowly.
"Certainly," agreed Fyfe. "Go ahead and verify it."
"Then you assert," Chan continued, "that you have not seen Shelah Fane since that moment in New York station, nine years ago?"
"I do."
"You did not see her in Honolulu to-day?"
"No."
"Or to-night?"
A pause. "No."
Julie entered. "The coffee is ready," she announced. "Please, all come into the dining-room."
"I make haste to endorse that suggestion," Chan put in.
Reluctantly they filed out, assuring one another that they could eat nothing, that the idea was unthinkable, but that perhaps a cup of coffee - Their voices trailed away beyond the curtains. Of the dinner guests, only the fortune-teller lingered.
"Please go, Mr. Tarneverro," Chan said. "Small stimulant will increase action of that fine brain on which I lean so heavily."
Tarneverro bowed. "For a moment only," he replied, and left the room.
Charlie turned to Kashimo. "As for you, I suggest you travel out to lanai sit upon a chair and think about your sins. When you appeared a moment ago like Jack of the box, you scattered precious evidence to the winds."
"So sorry," Kashimo hissed.
"Please be sorry on the lanai," Charlie advised, and hurrying him out, closed the windows after him. Turning, he came back to Robert Fyfe. "I am happy to be alone with you," he began. "Though you may not have guessed, you are most interesting figure who has yet popped into this affair."
"Really?" The actor dropped into a chair and sat there, a striking figure in his ambassadorial costume. His manner was calm, unperturbed, and seemingly he was in the frankest of moods.
"Very interesting indeed," Charlie continued. "I gaze at you, and I ask myself - why is he lying to me?"
Fyfe half rose from his chair. "Look here. What do you mean?"
Chan shrugged. "My dear sir - what is the use? When you visit lawn pavilions to call on ex-wives, how careless to flaunt distinctive red ribbon on chest. It might even be mistaken by excitable young women for - blood. Matter of fact - it was."
"Oh," said Fyfe grimly. "I see."
"The truth - for a change," went on Chan gently.
The actor sat for a moment with his head in his hands. Finally he looked up.
"Gladly," he answered. "Though the truth is a bit - unusual. I hadn't seen Shelah Fane since that night in the station - until to-night. This morning I heard she was in town. It was quite startling - what the news did to me. You did not know Miss Fane, Mr. - er - Mr. -"
"Inspector Chan," Charlie informed him. "No, I had not the pleasure."
"It was really that - a pleasure." Fyfe half smiled. "She was a remarkable girl, aflame with life. I'd once been very fond of her and - I never got over it. No other woman ever meant anything to me after Shelah left. I couldn't hold her - I don't blame her for that - no man could hold her long. She wanted romance, excitement. Well, as I say, I learned this morning she was in town, and the news thrilled me - it was as though I heard her voice again after nine years' silence. I sent her flowers, with a message - love from some one you have forgotten. Have I said she was impetuous? Wild, unreasoning, sudden - and irresistible. My flowers had barely reached this house when she called me on the telephone. She caught me at the theater, made up, ready to go on. 'Bob,' she said, 'you must come at once. You must. I want so much to see you. I am waiting.'"
He glanced at Chan, and shrugged. "Any other woman, and I would have answered: 'After the show.' Somehow, that was never the way one replied to Shelah. 'Coming' - that was always the answer when Shelah spoke.
"It was a rather mad idea, but possible. I had arrived at the theater early, I needn't go on for forty-five minutes. I had a car and could drive out here, if I rushed it a bit, in fifteen minutes each way. So, at seven-thirty, I went into my dressing-room on the ground floor of the building, locked the door on the inside, and stepped through a window into the alley that runs along beside the theater.
"Shelah had told me about the pavilion, she said she was giving a dinner party, but that I needn't meet any of the guests - my make-up, you know, and all that. She wanted to see me alone, anyhow. I reached here about seven-forty-five. Shelah met me on the lawn, and we went to the pavilion. She looked at me in a strange way - I wondered if she still cared for me. I was shocked at the change in her - when I knew her she was fresh and lovely and so very gay. Hollywood had altered her greatly. Oh, well - none of us grows younger, I suppose. We wasted precious time in reminiscences, living over the past - somehow, it seemed to make her happy, just to remember. I was nervous about the time - I kept looking at my watch. Finally I said that I must go."
He was silent. "And then -" Chan prompted.
"Well, it was odd," Fyfe continued. "I'd got the impression over the telephone, and even more so after I saw her, that she wanted my advice about some terribly pressing matter. But when I told her I was going, she only stared at me in a sort of pitiful way. 'Bob,' she said, 'you still care for me a little, don't you?' She was standing close to me, and I took her in my arms. 'I adore you,' I cried, and - but I needn't go into that. I had that moment - no one can take it from me. Thoughts of the happy past came back - I was torn between my love for Shelah and that damn watch ticking in my very brain. I told her hurriedly that I would return after the play, that I would see her daily during her stay here, that we would swim together - I had a wild idea that perhaps I could win her all over again. And perhaps I could have done it - but now - now -" His voice broke. "Poor Shelah! Poor girl!"
Chan nodded gravely. "It has been well said, those who live too conspicuously tempt the notice of Fate."
"And I suppose no one ever lived more conspicuously than Shelah," Fyfe added. He gave Charlie a quick penetrating glance. "Look here, Inspector - you mustn't fail me. You must find out who has done this awful thing."
"Such is my aim," Chan assured him. "You departed at once?"
"Yes, I left her standing there - standing there smiling, alive and well. Smiling, and crying too. I dashed out of the pavilion -"
"It was now what time?"
"I know only too well - it was four minutes past eight. I rushed down the drive, found my car where I'd left it before the house, and motored back to town as quickly as I could. When I stepped through the window of my dressing-room, they were hammering like wild men on my door. I opened it, said I'd been having a nap, and went out with the stage manager to the wings. I was five minutes late - the stage manager showed me his watch - eight-twenty. But that wasn't seri
ous - I went on and played my role - and I was just coming off after the first act when some young man telephoned me the terrible news."
He stood up. "That, Inspector Chan, is my story. My visit out here to-night may prove embarrassing for me, but I don't regret it. I saw Shelah again - I held her in my arms - and for that privilege I stand ready to pay any price you can name. Is there anything more I can tell you?"
Chan shook his head. "For the present, no. I ask that you remain on scene a brief time. Other matters may arise later."
"Of course," nodded Fyfe.
The Black Camel Page 9