The Black Camel

by The Black Camel [lit]

  Jaynes laughed. "Don't let that thought deter you," he said. "You'll do your best, I know. By the way, I'm afraid I was a bit rude to you last night - but I was very anxious to get away. For many reasons - not only my business in the States - but this whole terrible affair - I wanted to be out of it. I still do. You understand?"

  "I understand," nodded Chan gravely. His left hand, in the side pocket of his coat, touched a certain envelope. "I will say good morning," he added.

  He stood watching the Britisher cross the terrace and stroll toward the sea. Sensing some one at his back, he turned just in time. An old bent Chinese who continually paraded the lounge in his native costume, armed with a brush and dust-pan, was reaching out for the glasses.

  "Haie!" Chan seized the withered hand. "Do not touch, or the wrath of the seven watchful gods descends upon you." He took out his handkerchief and tenderly wrapped it round the glass from which Jaynes had drunk. "I am removing this, and the affair does not concern you."

  But evidently the old man thought it did concern him, for he followed Charlie to the desk. There Chan encountered one of the managers. "I should like to purchase this object," he said, revealing what the handkerchief held. "Kindly name price."

  The manager laughed. "Oh, that's all right. Take it along. What are you doing, Charlie? Collecting finger-prints from our harmless guests?"

  "You are close to truth," nodded Chan. "Save perhaps with that word harmless. Thank you so much. And now will you kindly call off this aged gentleman who thinks he has captured one of the forty thieves?"

  The manager said something to the servant, who moved away, muttering to himself. His comments, Chan knew, were not complimentary, but he gave no heed. He hurried through the door to his car.

  Deep in thought, he drove back to Shelah Fane's house. Were the finger-prints on this glass identical with those on the window-sill in the pavilion? If they were, then he was approaching journey's end.

  Hettick was waiting, and to him Charlie entrusted his precious cargo, still redolent of orange juice. The expert set quickly to work. Presently he stood by the window, the tumbler in one hand, a magnifying-glass in the other. Chan came close, awaiting the verdict.

  Hettick shook his head. "Nothing like it," he announced. "You've been on the wrong trail this time, Inspector."

  Keenly disappointed, Chan sat down in a chair. So it had not been Alan Jaynes who entered this room last night? It had all seemed to fit in so neatly that up to this minute he had not had a doubt of it. On the wrong trail, eh? He hadn't cared for the way in which Hettick had said that. The men at the station had been in a rather unfriendly mood since Charlie's return from the mainland. They had expected to find him in a haughty and triumphant state of mind since his exploits there, and the fact that he had shown no trace whatever of such an attitude, had done nothing to lessen their envy. He had been forced to endure many joking remarks that held an undercurrent of hostility.

  On the wrong trail, eh? Well, who didn't take the wrong path occasionally in this business? Where was the superman so good that he never erred?

  On the wrong trail. Chan sat deep in thought Jaynes had been outside that window - the stub of the small cigar, which he had evidently forgotten, was proof enough. But it was not he who had pushed up the screen and entered leaving the imprint of fingers on the white sill. Some one else had done that. Who? Who else had been -

  Suddenly Charlie smote his forehead a resounding blow. "Haie - I have been complete and utter idiot. I move too fast, without proper thought. Everybody seeks to hurry me - even my own family. And I was not built for hurry. Hurry is the wind that destroys the scaffolding." He turned to Hettick. "What has become of finger-print record of beachcomber, taken at station last night?"

  "Oh," replied Hettick. "I've got that here." He produced a manila envelope from his pocket and removed a glass plate. "Do you think -"

  "I think, yes - a little late, but still I think," said Charlie. He took the plate from the unresisting hand of his brother officer and hurried to the window. "Come quickly," he called. "Your glass - look! What is your decision?"

  "They are the same," Hettick announced.

  Triumph shone brightly in Charlie's little eyes. "At last I arrive somewhere," he cried. "Smith, the beachcomber was in this room last night! Am I forever on wrong trail or do I have my lucific moments?"

  Chapter XVI

  A WORD OF WARNING

  Chan's air of calm detachment had vanished for the moment, and he walked the floor as though inspired by his latest discovery.

  "Smith, the beachcomber," he said once more. "Dreary bit of human wreckage cast up on shore of splendid island. Ragged remnant of a man - how busy he was around this building last night. A big evening, I think, in the life of Smith."

  Hettick was gathering up the tools of his trade. "Well, I believe I'll go back to the station now," he remarked. "I've given you boys something to work on. Go out and make the most of it."

  "Ah, you are clever detective," Chan grinned. "Things slip from mind sometimes, but when humble fellow worker recalls them, then you move on like avenging demon. You have given us material indeed. Yes, please return to station at once. I will arrive later, and in meantime I respectfully suggest that you send out alarm call for Smith. Tell Chief beach-comber must be pulled into station with no delay. Let all low dives be explored. Put Kashimo on it. He is our most passioned searcher, and what is better, he knows all cracks and crannies of modest little underworld."

  Hettick promised he would deliver the message, and departed. Charlie followed at his heels. He saw Julie and Bradshaw on the lawn, and paused beside them. "You wish ride to town?" he inquired of the latter.

  "No, thanks," Bradshaw replied. "I've got my car today. Besides Julie has just persuaded me to stay for lunch."

  "May life hold for her no sterner task than such persuasion," smiled Chan. "I do not wish to cloud your future, Miss Julie, but must warn you that I return here soon."

  He was skirting the house when Jessop appeared at the lanai door. "Ah - er - Constable," he said. "May I ask you to step inside just a moment?"

  Struck by the seriousness of the butler's manner, Charlie passed through the door which the servant held open. "You have something to say to me?" he asked.

  "I have, sir. Kindly come with me." Jessop led the way into a small reception-room near the front of the house. He entered it first - evidence of unusual abstraction on his part. "Oh - I beg your pardon, sir. I'll just close this door, so we may have an undisturbed tete-a-tete."

  "Time is none too plentiful with me -" Chan began, somewhat surprised by these elaborate preparations.

  "I know that, Constable, I will - er - plunge in at once -" In spite of this promise, he hesitated. "My old father, who was for more than forty years the trusted employee of a rather exacting duke, remarked to me in my youth: 'A good servant, Cedric, sees all, knows all, but tells nothing.' It is only after prolonged and mature consideration, Constable, that I have determined to ignore that excellent counsel."

  Chan nodded. "Circumstances," he remarked, "upset cases."

  "Precisely, sir. I have always been a law-abiding man, and what is more, I am eager to see you get to the bottom of this matter without - if I may say so - further delay. Last evening I chanced to be busy in the hall at the moment when you were engaged in interviewing Miss Julie regarding the emerald ring. This may suggest to you that I was eavesdropping, but I can assure you that such duplicity was farthest from my thoughts. I heard the young lady tell you that Miss Fane had given her that ring early in the morning, and that she - Miss Julie, I mean - had held it in her possession from that moment on, until you discovered it in her room."

  "Such was Miss Julie's story," Charlie agreed.

  "I am at a complete loss to understand it, sir. I don't know what she meant by her testimony - but I do know this. At about seven last night, Miss Fane called me to her room and gave me the letter which I was to deliver to Mr. Tarneverro immediately on his arrival at the house
. As she passed over the missive, I distinctly saw, gleaming on her right hand, the ring in question. I am positive on that point, Constable, and prepared to offer a sworn statement along those lines."

  Chan was silent for a moment. He thought of Julie O'Neill, so young, so innocent-looking. "Thank you very much," he said at last. "What you say seems of vast importance."

  "I only hope it may not be so important as it appears," Jessop replied. "I tell you this, Constable, with considerable reluctance. I have nothing against Miss Julie - a charming young woman - indeed she is, sir. I was tempted for a long time to remain silent, but it struck me that my duty lay, most decidedly, in the opposite direction. Like yourself, I desire to see the miscreant in this affair adequately punished. Miss Fane was always extremely kind to me."

  Chan moved toward the door. "I shall act upon your information at once," he announced.

  Jessop looked uncomfortable. "If my name could only be kept out of it, sir -"

  "Same may not be possible," Charlie told him.

  Jessop sighed. "I recognize that, Constable. I can only say again that I am quite positive I saw the ring. My eyesight is excellent, which, to a man of my age, is a matter of deep satisfaction."

  They went out into the hall. Anna, the maid, was slowly coming down the stairs. Chan turned to Jessop.

  "Thank you again," he said. "You may go now."

  The butler disappeared toward the kitchen, and Charlie waited for Anna at the foot of the stairs.

  "Good morning," he remarked pleasantly. "I desire one word with you, please."

  "Of course," replied Anna, and followed him into the living-room.

  "You recall story of Miss Julie regarding the ring?"

  "Naturally, sir."

  "Same was given her by Miss Fane in early morning and remained in her possession. Have you anything to say regarding that?"

  "Why - why what do you mean, sir?" the maid returned.

  "You did not yourself see the ring on Miss Fane's finger during the day? Or when she came to you to procure pin for orchids?"

  "If I did, it made no impression on me, sir."

  "You see things, yet they make no impression?"

  "You know how it is, sir. Things become familiar and you don't really notice. What I mean is - the ring may or may not have been there. I'm afraid I can't say, sir."

  "You wish the matter to stand at that?"

  "I fear it must, as far as I am concerned."

  Chan bowed. "Thank you - that is all."

  He stepped through a French window, and walked slowly across the lanai. He had no heart for the task that faced him now, but many such tasks had confronted him in the past, and he had never faltered. Stepping out on the lawn, he went over to a beach swing where Bradshaw and the girl were sitting.

  "Miss Julie," he began. The girl looked up at him, and at sight of his grave face, her own paled.

  "Yes, Mr. Chan," she said in a low voice.

  "Miss Julie, you have told me Miss Fane gave you that emerald ring soon after her arrival yesterday morning. Why did you tell me that?"

  "Because it's the truth," Julie answered bravely.

  "Then how do you account for fact that ring was seen on her finger last evening at seven?"

  "Who says it was?" the girl cried.

  "Is that important?"

  "It is very important. Who says it was?"

  "I learn it from what I think reliable source."

  "You have no means of knowing how reliable, Mr. Chan. Who made that statement? Not Miss Dixon - she isn't up yet. It must have been one of the servants. Jessop, perhaps. Was it Jessop, Mr. Chan?"

  "What does it matter -"

  "But I assure you it matters very much. Because, you see, I don't stand very well with Jessop. There's an old grudge between us - on his part, at least."

  "You will, please, explain what you mean by that?"

  "Of course. As I told you last night, Miss Fane's servants were always cheating her. When I first became her secretary I shut my eyes to it, because I'm no tale-bearer. But about a year ago, her finances became terribly involved, and I began an investigation. I discovered that Jessop had a most shameless arrangement with the tradespeople - all the bills were padded outrageously and Jessop was getting a share of the profits.

  "I said nothing to Miss Fane - I knew what that would mean - a temperamental outburst, tears and recriminations, and probably a grand scene of forgiveness in the end. She was always so kind-hearted. Instead I went to Jessop, told him I knew what he was doing and that the thing must stop. He was most indignant. All the other servants in Hollywood, he told me, were doing the same, and he seemed to consider it a sort of royal prerogative. But when I threatened to tell Miss Fane, he backed down and agreed to put an end to the practice. I fancy he did, too, but since that time he has always been very cool to me, and I know that I have never been forgiven. So you see why I asked you if it was Jessop who told that - falsehood about the ring."

  "Just where do you stand - as you say it - with Anna?"

  "Oh, Anna and I have always been on the most friendly terms," Julie answered. "A good steady girl who saves her money and buys bonds with it. It's money honestly come by - I'm sure of that because" - Julie smiled faintly - "the poor thing has never had a chance to pad bills. None of them passes through her hands."

  Chan looked at Julie's flushed face for a long moment "Then you desire to repeat that Miss Fane herself gave you the ring yesterday morning?"

  "I certainly do. It's the truth, Mr. Chan."

  Charlie bowed. "I can only accept your word, Miss Julie. It is quite possible - the person who told me of seeing the ring last night may have been moved by ancient grudge - I thought of it at the time. Miss Julie, I say to myself, too fine and sweet for underhand work. You will note, Jimmy, that you and I have tastes in common."

  "Which does you credit," smiled Bradshaw.

  "Which credits us both," amended Chan. "I will no longer hang about, a blot on this lovely scene. My kindest good-by - until we meet again."

  He walked thoughtfully to his car, and drove away through the hot noon sunshine. "So many roads that wind and wind -" He had read that somewhere. He sighed. So many roads - would the little car finally leap down the right one?

  As he approached the Grand Hotel, Huntley Van Horn was again in his thoughts. He was reluctant to reappear so soon at the hotel's main entrance so, parking his car in the street, he entered the grounds and walked toward the palm court. A group of excited tourists was gathered beneath the tallest of the coco-palms, and looking aloft, Charlie saw one of the beach-boys, in a red bathing-suit, climbing the tree with the agility of a monkey. He stood for a moment, admiring the boy's skill.

  "The kid's clever, eh, Inspector?" remarked a voice at his elbow.

  He turned and looked into the smiling gray eyes of Van Horn. They were standing a little apart from the others, and the picture actor was the recipient of many awed, adoring glances from young women who were ostensibly there to watch the beach-boy.

  "Ah, Mr. Van Horn," Chan said. "This meeting is indeed most fortunate. I am calling here for the sole purpose of seeing you."

  "Really?" The actor looked up at the tree. "Well, he seems to have traveled as far as he can on that one. Shall we go on the veranda - pardon me, the lanai - and have a chat?"

  "The idea is most suitable," Charlie agreed. He followed Van Horn and they sat down in a secluded corner. The boy had descended the coco-palm and stood now the center of an admiring group, hugely enjoying the limelight. Chan watched him.

  "Sometimes in my heart," he remarked, "arouses hot envy of the beach-boys. To exist so happily - to have no cares and troubles, no worries - ah, that must be what men mean by Paradise. All they ask of life is one bathing-suit, slightly worn."

  Van Horn laughed. "You have worries, I take it, Inspector?"

  Charlie turned to him. He had decided to be frank. "I have." He paused. "You are one of them," he added suddenly.

  The picture actor was unper
turbed. "You flatter me," he answered. "Just how am I worrying you, Inspector?"

  "You worry me because in this matter of Miss Shelah Fane's murder you are quite defenseless. Not only do you possess no alibi, but of all those concerned, you were nearest to the scene of her death. You walked across lawn at very important moment, Mr. Van Horn. I could not worry about you more if you were own son."

  Van Horn grinned. "That's kind of you, Inspector. I appreciate it. Yes - I am rather badly cast in the story of the crime. But I rely on you. As an intelligent man, you must realize that I could have had absolutely no motive for killing the poor girl. Until I joined her company to make this picture, I scarcely knew her, and all through our journey and the work together, we were on the friendliest terms."