She nodded. "I will, Jimmy."
"That's good enough for me," he smiled.
Chan came silently into the room, and the boy stood up. "Well, Charlie, you ready to go along? I let my brother have my car to-night, so I'm honoring you with my presence in that famous flivver of yours."
"You will be remarkably welcome," Chan told him. "Yes - I travel townward almost at once. There remains one little matter -"
Anna, the maid, came hurriedly into the room. "Miss Dixon said you wanted to see me," she remarked to Chan.
He nodded. "A trifling affair. You told me earlier this evening that a certain ring was missing from Miss Fane's finger after the homicide. An emerald ring."
"I did, sir."
Julie O'Neill was leaning forward, breathless, her eyes wide.
"Is this the ring?" Chan suddenly produced a platinum band decorated with a surprising stone that flashed green in the brightly lighted room.
"That is it, sir," Anna nodded.
Chan turned to Julie. "So sorry to drag you in. But will you kindly tell me - how does it happen I find this bauble in the drawer of your dressing-table?" The girl gasped, and Jimmy Bradshaw looked at her in amazement. "I am very sorry this question comes out, which disappoints me sadly," Charlie continued. "But I should say, things need explanation."
"It's very simple," answered Julie in a low voice.
"Naturally," bowed Chan. "Just how simple, according to your story?"
"Well." She hesitated. "There are only a few of us here - I can speak frankly. Shelah was always hard up. Somehow money meant nothing to her, it slipped through her fingers, it was gone a moment after she got it. She came back from the South Seas in her usual state - more or less broke. Every one was always cheating her, stealing from her -"
"Every one?" Chan repeated. "You mean her servants, perhaps?"
"Some of them, yes - when they had a chance. But that doesn't matter. Shelah arrived here in need of money, as always. She'd drawn all the advance she could get from the company - they haven't been as generous of late as they used to be. To-day, just after she reached the house, she sent for me and said she must have ready money at once. She gave me this ring and told me to sell it for her, if I could. I was to make a round of the jewelers immediately - this afternoon. But I put it off. I wasn't keen for the job. However, I fully intended to go in the morning - if this thing hadn't happened to-night. That's how I chanced to have the ring."
Chan considered. "She gave it to you just after she reached house. At what time, precisely?"
"At eight o'clock this morning."
"You have had it ever since?"
"Yes, of course. I put it in that drawer - I thought it would be safe there."
"That is all you wish to tell me?"
"That is all." The girl seemed on the point of tears.
Charlie turned to the maid. "You may go, Anna," he said.
"Very good, sir." Anna glanced at the girl, and then went out.
Charlie sighed heavily. Even though he came of a nocturnal race, the night was beginning to wear on him. He took the ring beneath a light and examined it with his magnifying-glass. There was, he noted, an inscription inside. "Shelah from Denny." So Denny Mayo came back into the case? Chan shrugged.
When he turned about, he perceived that Julie was weeping silently. Bradshaw had put his arm about her shoulder. "That's all right, honey," the boy said. "Charlie believes you. Don't you, Charlie?"
Chan bowed from the waist. "In the presence of so much charm, could I have brutal doubts? Miss Julie, I am sorrowed to perceive your overwrought state. Mr. Bradshaw and I depart at once, leaving to you the solace of slumber. You have youth, and sleep will come. I bid you most sympathetic good night."
He disappeared through the curtains, and with a few whispered words to the girl, Bradshaw followed. Jessop, restraining a yawn but firmly polite as always, saw them out. On the steps Charlie stood for a moment, staring at the sky and drawing in a deep breath of the open air.
"It is something to recall," he said, "that during long painful ordeal in that house, stars were still shining and soft tropic night progressed as usual. What have I not been through? A brief respite will be lovely as soft music in the rain."
They got into his car, waiting alone and lonely in the drive.
"Pretty much up against it, eh, Charlie?" the boy suggested.
Chan nodded. "Dizzy feeling causes my head to circulate. I have upearthed so much, and yet I have upearthed nothing." They bowled along, past the Moana Hotel, in unaccustomed darkness now. The pink walls of the Grand glowed with a new splendor in the moonlight. "When you telephoned me," Chan added, "I was about to begin serious operation on a small fish. One taste I had was excellent. Alas! little fish and I will never meet again."
"A shame to spoil your dinner," Bradshaw replied.
"I will be content if your news does not also spoil my reputation," Charlie told him. "How am I going to emerge from the affair? In shining garments of success, or in sack-cloth with ashes?"
"I called up the morning paper," the boy told him. "Used to work there, you know. They were short of men at the moment, and I landed the job of covering the story so far. Got to go back now and write it. I'll say that the police haven't a notion just at present - is that correct?"
Charlie barely avoided a collision with the curb. "Have you no better understanding of your task than that? Say nothing of the sort. Police have many clues and expect early arrest."
"But that's the same old bunk, Charlie. And judging from your talk, it isn't true in this case."
"Seldom true in any case," Chan reminded him. "You should know that."
"Well, I'll say it - to please you, Charlie. By the way, did I hear Tarneverro intimate he was working with you?"
"Yes - he fancies himself as bright assistant."
"He may be bright all right - but are you keen for his help?"
Charlie shrugged. "The bird chooses the tree, not the tree the bird," he remarked.
"Well, Tarneverro's a queer bird, all right. He gives me a funny sensation when I look at him." They rode on in silence for a time. "Anyhow, one thing's certain," the boy said at last.
"Is that really so?" Chan inquired. "Name it, please. I seem to have overlooked it in my haste."
"I mean - Julie had nothing to do with this affair."
Charlie grinned in the dark. "I have recollections myself," he said.
"Of what?"
"Being young - and muddled by love. Since I am now the father of eleven children, it is necessarily some time since I went about with head in clouds and warmly beating heart. But memories remain."
"Oh, nonsense," protested Bradshaw. "I'm looking at this thing coldly - as a rank outsider."
"Then I humbly suggest you have old Hawaii moon overhauled at once," commented Chan. "For it must be losing magic power you write about so glowingly."
He drew up before the newspaper office, the sound of his brakes grating noisily in the deserted street. On the lower floor of the building one lonely light burned dimly, but the up-stairs windows were bright yellow with activity. There men sat sorting the cable news that was flowing in from the far corners of the world, from Europe, Asia, the mainland - brief bits of information thought worthy of transmission to this small island dreaming in the midst of the great Pacific.
Jimmy Bradshaw moved as though to alight, then paused. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced at Charlie. "I don't suppose I can have it now, can I?" he inquired.
"You can not," Chan replied firmly.
"What are you talking about?" asked the boy innocently.
"Same thing you are," Charlie grinned.
"I was referring to that handkerchief you took away from the picture director."
"So was I," answered Charlie blandly.
"Then you knew it was mine?"
"I gathered that, yes. Small initial B was on it. Also I perceived you perspiring with no means to quench it. I was greatly moved to admiration by your restrai
nt - not once did you make use of coat sleeve. You are going to tell me that it was taken from your pocket?"
"It must have been - yes."
"At what moment?"
"I don't know, but I suppose some one took it when I was in swimming."
"You are sure of that?"
"Well, it seems the only possible explanation. But I didn't notice it was gone until a long time afterward."
"And a still longer time after that - you mention the affair to me."
"It's my confounded modesty again, Charlie," the boy laughed. "I just couldn't stand the limelight. Let me look at the thing, anyhow."
Charlie handed it over, and Bradshaw examined it carefully in the dashboard light. "Mine all right." He pointed at the mark. "That's my alias at the laundry. This is pretty sinister, if you ask me."
Charlie took back the handkerchief. "I have very good notion to put you in jail," he remarked.
"And trifle with the power of the press?" the boy reminded him. "Think twice, Charlie. I didn't do away with our distinguished visitor. That's not the sort of Hawaiian hospitality I go in for." He hesitated. "I could use that handkerchief to-night."
"So could I," Chan answered.
"Oh, well, then I'll just have to drip perspiration on this immortal story I'm about to write. So long, Inspector."
"So long," Chan returned. "And please keep handkerchief out of that same story, and out of your conversation, or you will hear from me."
"O.K., Charlie. It stays a big secret. Nobody in on it but you and me - and the laundry."
Chapter XI
MIDNIGHT IN HONOLULU
Chan drove slowly on to Halekaua Hale, at the foot of Bethel Street, the home of the police. Parking his car, he ascended the worn stone steps. A light was burning in the detectives' room, and going in, he encountered his Chief.
"Hello, Charlie," that gentleman said. "I've been waiting for you. Drove over to Kalaua to-night, or I'd have been with you down the beach. This is a pretty mix-up, isn't it? Got anything yet?"
Sadly Chan shook his head. He glanced at his watch. "The story has length," he suggested.
"Guess I'd better hear it, anyhow," replied the Chief. In him, there was no lack of vigor. The ride in the moonlight to Kalaua had been restful and refreshing.
Charlie sat down and began to talk, while his Chief listened intently. He took up first the scene of the murder, the absence of any weapon, the unsuccessful attempt of the murderer to fix the moment of the crime at two minutes past eight. Coming to the question of clues, he mentioned the loss of the diamond pin which had held the orchids.
"That's something," nodded the Chief, lighting a cigar.
Chan shrugged. "Something we do not possess," he pointed out. He went on to repeat Shelah Fane's story of her presence at the murder of Denny Mayo - the tale she had told Tarneverro, according to the fortune-teller, that morning.
"Fine - fine," cried the Chief. "That gives you the motive, Charlie. Now if she had only written down the name, as this Tarneverro wanted her to -"
With acute distaste, Charlie added the incident of the letter's loss. His Chief looked at him with surprise and a marked disapproval.
"Never knew anything like that to happen to you before. Losing your grip, Charlie?"
"For a moment, I certainly lost grip and letter too," Chan replied ruefully. "As the matter turned out, it did not have much importance." His face brightened as he added the later discovery of the letter under the rug, proving that it was of no value save as a corroboration of Tarneverro's story. He went on to the destruction of the portrait over which Shelah Fane had been seen weeping bitterly in the afternoon.
"Some one didn't want you to see it," frowned the Chief.
"I arrived at the same deduction myself," Charlie admitted. He pictured the arrival of Robert Fyfe on what was obviously his second visit to Waikiki within a few hours, and then turned to the subject of the beach-comber.
"We took his finger-prints and let him go," put in the Chief. "He hasn't nerve enough to kill a fly."
Chan nodded. "You are no doubt correct in such surmise." His report of Fyfe's subsequent, easily punctured confession, evidently puzzled his superior. He mentioned the handkerchief with the telltale slivers of glass found in Martino's pocket, and Jimmy Bradshaw's somewhat belated claim to its ownership. He was by this time rather out of breath. "So matter stands at present," he finished.
His Chief was looking at him with an amused smile. "Well, Charlie, sometimes I've thought you weren't entirely satisfied here since your return from the mainland," he said. "Pretty quiet, you thought it. No big cases like over there. Just chasing a few scared gamblers down an alley - not very thrilling, was it? Honolulu didn't seem to be big enough for you any more. I guess it's big enough to-night."
"I experience uncomfortable feeling maybe it is too big," Chan admitted. "How will I come out of this? Considerable puzzle, if inquiry is made of me."
"We mustn't let it stump us," replied the Chief briskly. He was an intelligent man, and he knew where to lean. He foresaw that he was going to do some heavy leaning in the next few days. With an appraising glance, he surveyed his assistant. Charlie looked sleepy and somewhat worn - nothing alert, nothing clever in his appearance now. The Chief consoled himself with memories. Chan, he reflected, was ever keener than he looked.
He considered. "This Tarneverro, Charlie, - what sort of fellow is he?"
Chan brightened. "Ah, perhaps you go to heart of the matter. Tarneverro appears dark as rainy night, but it is his business to act so. He owns a quick mind. And he seems fiercely eager to assist poor policeman like me."
"A bit too eager, maybe?"
Charlie nodded. "I have thought of that. But consider - he offers to produce testimony of old couple with whom he sat until moment murder was discovered. Truth of that will be examined to-morrow, but I do not doubt it. No - I am plenty certain he did not visit house of Shelah Fane until I took him there. Other points absolve him."
"What, for example?"
"I have told you he spoke to me before murder was done, hinting we would to-night make arrest in famous case. That would have been strangely foolish move if he contemplated murder himself. And Tarneverro is not foolish - he goes far the other way. Then, too, indicating he has earnest desire to assist he points out the matter of the watch. It was bright act - not very necessary since I already knew facts from Wu Kno-ching - but all same plenty good proof he sincerely aims to help. No, I do not believe him guilty killer, and yet -"
"Yet what, Charlie?"
"I prefer to hold that safe in mind for the present. It may mean much, and it may mean nothing."
"You've got something on Tarneverro?" asked the Chief, looking at him keenly.
"With regard to killing - not one solitary thing. At moment when that took place, I believe he was most decidedly elsewhere. Gazing in another direction - kindly permit that I gaze that way a few hours longer before I divulge my thoughts." The plump detective put one hand to his head. "Haie, just now I wander, lost in maze of doubts and questionings."
"You'll have to cut that out, Charlie," his Chief told him in a kindly but somewhat worried tone. "The honor of the force is at stake. If these people are going to come over here to our quiet little city and murder each other at Waikiki, we've got to prove to them that they can't get away with it. I rely on you."
Chan bowed. "I'm afraid you do. Appreciate the distinction, and will do all my humble talents permit. Now I will wish you good night. The evening has worn on me like some prolonged dispute."
He went out into the battered old hall, just as Spencer entered from the street. Chan looked at his watch.
"The Oceanic has sailed?" he inquired.
"Yeah - she's out."
"With none of our friends aboard, I trust?" Chan said.
"None that I saw goin' aboard - and I guess I was there first. One of 'em showed up, though."
"Which one?"
"That Alan Jaynes. He came in a car from the Grand Ho
tel, an' collected his baggage. I heard him swearin' under his breath when the ship backed away from the pier. I helped him load up, an' he went back to the beach. He give me a message for you."
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