West of Guam

by Raoul Whitfield

  He checked himself. Jo Gar said quietly:

  “I think it would be wise for you to tell the whole truth, Mr. Price. The crew say it was you who held Landon—”

  Dean Price cut in grimly: “That’s a lie! He was coming to get me—that will be my defense. We caught him as he came along the deck. One of the boys dropped the rope over his neck, tightened it. I held one arm—others of the crew gripped him from behind. He tried to struggle. He was strong. But the rope was tight around his throat; he couldn’t twist his head. It was only a matter of seconds. That damned, squealing crew—”

  Jo Gar said: “The crew didn’t squeal, Mr. Price. We haven’t been aboard the launch. I was hitting in the dark, because I felt it had happened as you have said.”

  Dean Price swore grimly. The woman was sobbing. Juan Arragon said, with grudging admiration in his voice:

  “You felt it was not suicide, from the beginning, Jo.”

  The Island detective looked towards the many weapons hanging on the walls of the room. He spoke in his toneless manner.

  “They gave Landon—sufficient rope. I was giving them enough rope, Juan.”

  Nagasaki Bound

  A yacht with a precious cargo, a murderous gun, and Jo Gar, the Island detective.

  When Jo Gar stepped from the caleso, on the sun-rotted planks of the dock near the Manila Hotel, he glanced towards the stern rail of the yacht and saw Vandeer, the Holland detective, leaning against it and smiling down at him. Jo removed his pith helmet, wiped his forehead with a large-sized handkerchief, and sighed.

  “I thought so,” he breathed wearily. “There is too much native blood in me. Randonn lacks the complete trust.”

  He attended to his baggage, saw that it was started aboard. When he had paid the caleso driver he moved slowly up the narrow gangplank and was met on the awninged deck by the chief steward. The man was tall and thin; he towered over the diminutive Island detective.

  “Señor Gar?” he guessed. “I will see you directly to your cabin.” Jo smiled a little. “I trust there is a fan,” he said.

  The chief steward nodded. “There is,” he replied. “It will be cooler when we steam off Formosa. Your luggage has gone ahead.”

  Jo Gar nodded. He followed the tall man astern; the yacht was not particularly trim or new; her decks, where there were no awnings, baked in the hot sun. Vandeer came along and smiled at Jo. He was a ruddy-faced Hollander who had been in the Islands only a short time. He had broad shoulders, slightly rounded, and wore shell glasses over his blue eyes.

  “So you did come,” he said in a voice that was pleasant but that held a hint of mockery. “It is good to see you, Señor.”

  Jo Gar narrowed his almond-shaped eyes on those of the Hollander, said languidly:

  “I feel my presence is unnecessary, with you aboard, Mr. Vandeer.

  But I was urged. It will be a change.”

  The Hollander chuckled. “We will all feel safer, Señor,” he said with exaggerated politeness. “You have done much fine work in Manila, I hear.”

  Jo Gar bowed his head slightly and moved on. When the chief steward stood aside and he entered the deck cabin it was agreeably cool. A small fan whirled—the air was cooler than the breeze blowing over the Bay.

  The chief steward said: “We have our own cooling system, you see.

  The air is iced.”

  Jo Gar sat in a small wicker chair and carefully set his helmet on the cabin flooring.

  “I’m sure it will be—a most pleasant journey,” he said thoughtfully.

  The chief steward bowed and withdrew. The Island detective stowed his luggage away in leisurely fashion and was reclining on the berth when Sanford Randonn tapped on the closed door of the cabin.

  He came in at Jo’s call, smiled as the Island detective sat up. Randonn was lean-faced, quick in movement—an extremely active man for his fifty-odd years. He did not appear to notice heat. With his energy and fine organizing ability he had made millions in the Islands, in a period of some twenty years. He said in a thin, nervous tone:

  “I hope you won’t mind my having Vandeer along. He’s done work for me many years, you know. I really hadn’t intended to take him on this trip, until a few days ago. But he seemed terribly hurt, disturbed. So I altered my plans.”

  Jo Gar smiled. He made a slow, graceful gesture with his right hand. Lowering his voice, he asked softly:

  “You have the pearls aboard?”

  Randonn frowned. Then he shrugged, nodded his head. He said nervously:

  “God—they are beautiful things, Gar. I hate to have them out of my sight. Sara loves to look at them. They are the most beautiful—” The Island detective said quietly: “Your man Toyen will be able to reproduce them—the imitations will be just as beautiful. Toyen is the best workman on such matters, in the Orient.”

  Randonn nodded, smiled. The yacht whistle sounded a long-drawn wail. The millionaire got to his feet.

  “Vandeer does not know the real purpose of the trip,” he said. “You do. Sara, myself and you are the only three who know. Vandeer believes we are Nagasaki bound so that I may purchase some important altar jewels. I have done that before. There are so many shrines near Nagasaki. But I do not want Vandeer to know that the pearls are aboard.”

  Jo Gar bowed. He did not speak. Randonn opened the cabin door and stepped on deck. The engines of the yacht were turning over, there was slight vibration. The wealthy Englishman said:

  “It was a lucky deal, Gar. But I will feel much more secure when—” He checked himself. The whistle of the yacht wailed again. Jo Gar slipped his small feet into sandals and moved slowly to the deck.

  Randonn smiled at him and went forward. The Island detective looked towards the stern and saw the Hollander at the rail. He frowned.

  “It was a lucky deal—” he repeated slowly. “Randonn has often been wise and correct. Perhaps he is wise now—”

  He thought of the pearls. They were the finest he had ever seen. He had looked at many, in the South Seas and the Orient. He was something of an authority on them. Randonn had paid a big price for the small lot, but they were worth twice as much as he had paid. And Toyen could imitate them beautifully, so that Sara Randonn could roll them in her fingers, wear them. But first they must reach Nagasaki—and Toyen.

  The yacht was swinging clear of the dock now. Friends were waving. Jo Gar saw Juan Arragon climb hurriedly from a carromatta, move towards the edge of the dock. Jo waved his short arms—and the Manila police lieutenant grinned and waved back. The city became drowned in a sea of heat waves as the yacht headed out past Cavite and the Rock. After a while Jo went back into his cabin and lay on the berth again.

  He dozed and was awakened by a Filipino boy who told him lunch was being served. He dressed, went forward towards the gay-colored awning under which several tables had been placed. The breeze was warm. Randonn smiled at him and gestured towards a table.

  “Better than the dining saloon,” he said. “The captain tells me we’re in for a calm trip.”

  Jo Gar looked beyond the millionaire; his eyes flickered on those of the Hollander. Vandeer was smiling. The Island detective said quietly:

  “That is very—nice to know.”

  The island of Formosa was a mile to port of the Eastern Star as the yacht rode steadily through a nasty swell. It was dark; dinner had been served in the saloon, but several of Randonn’s guests had not appeared. During the day the sea had been rough—at dusk, when the rugged coast line of Formosa had been sighted, the yacht was rolling heavily.

  Jo Gar walked from the smoking room, turned towards the bridge. The door of Randonn’s cabin was suddenly opened—Randonn stepped to the deck. His face was white, twisted. He stared at the Island detective. Jo went to his side; Randonn shoved him into the cabin, closed the door. He said grimly:

  “The pearls—they’re gone!”

  Jo Gar half closed his eyes. He said in a quiet tone: “Where did you have them?”

  The Englishman took fr
om a small writing desk a camera. It was box-like, old. He opened one end of it. He said bitterly:

  “They were in a small chamois bag—stuffed in here. The camera was on my desk. On top of it were two rolls of film. I was sure they would be safe. No one would think of looking in a camera—it was right there on the desk. And no one knew—”

  Jo Gar said quietly: “Someone knew. Someone besides your wife, you—and myself. Almost always someone knows. You feared that, or you would not have come to me, asked me to accompany you on this trip.”

  Randonn said savagely: “That German, Bacherman—he made money on the pearls. He bought them up, one by one, matching them. It took years. When he lost his money he had to sell them. He knew I’d pay the best price, but he hated to sell them to me. And I knew that. That’s why I came to you. Now—they’re gone.”

  The Island detective leaned down and inspected the camera box carefully. He did not touch it.

  “There will be no fingerprints,” he said. “But I’ll use powder on it. The camera is an old make—and a cheap thing. You would not use such a camera. You were very foolish.”

  Randonn said slowly: “The pearls are gone—but they are aboard the yacht. I thought the camera would be a good hiding place. If I had made elaborate plans there might have been a leak.”

  Jo Gar reached for his handkerchief, smiled. He said slowly:

  “You do not trust Vandeer. You do not trust me. You have been foolish. Such an old camera. But the thief is clever. When did you see them last—the pearls?”

  Randonn frowned. “I had my siesta—rose at four-thirty. The blinds were down—the cabin door closed and locked. I took the camera into my shower room. There is no window. I looked at the pearls. They were beautiful. Then I returned the camera to the desk. That was the last I saw of them. The cabin is always locked when I am not here.”

  Jo Gar narrowed his eyes and rubbed stubby, browned fingers across his lips. He said:

  “Does your wife know the pearls are gone?”

  Randonn shook his head. “I was afraid of it,” he muttered. “I was afraid—something would happen. The German, Bacherman—he hated me to have them.”

  Jo Gar said: “I will take the camera to my cabin. But I do not think there will be anything learned from it. You have told Vandeer?”

  Randonn shook his head. “I just discovered they were gone,” he muttered.

  The Island detective looked at his wristwatch. It was twenty minutes after nine. He stood with his feet apart, bracing himself against the roll of the yacht. The millionaire dropped heavily into a wicker chair. He swore bitterly.

  Jo Gar said slowly: “The pearls are of much value. As you say, they are aboard. They were taken from this cabin between four-thirty and—”

  He looked questioningly at Randonn. The Englishman said: “—and ten minutes ago.”

  Jo nodded. “Only you and I—and the person or persons who took them know that they are gone. We will not reach Nagasaki for three days.”

  Randonn said: “I think—Vandeer should know. That is what he is aboard for—to know such a thing.”

  The Island detective said slowly: “Perhaps he—already knows.”

  Randonn stared at him. He spoke in a hard voice, his eyes narrowed on Jo’s.

  “You are accusing Vandeer of—” Jo shook his head. “I said perhaps he already knows,” he stated. “You did not have the greatest confidence in him, or you would not have included me on this journey.”

  Randonn said grimly: “I was afraid—from the beginning.”

  “Why—were you afraid?” Jo Gar asked the question quietly, very quietly.

  The millionaire fumbled in a pocket of his suiting, got a cigarette between his thin lips. He spoke sharply:

  “I’ve told you—the German hated me. He loved the pearls. He’d never have sold them if he hadn’t needed money to pay his Filipinos, out on the plantations. He knew I had them, and he must have known I was taking them away—when he learned I was making the trip. I should have left secretly.”

  Jo Gar shook his head. “He would have known, in any case,” he said, “Why did you come to me?”

  Randonn kept his eyes narrowed on the eyes of the Island detective. He spoke in a low, hard tone.

  “I’d heard you were an expert on pearls. I wanted your opinion on this Toyen. Vandeer doesn’t know pearls. Once I’d told you about them, I wanted you to come along.”

  The Island detective smiled. “Very well,” he said. “Do not inform Vandeer of the loss. I will see about the camera. Later I will meet you on deck. Be cheerful, and say nothing about what has happened.”

  Randonn looked uncertain. Jo Gar said:

  “You should not have brought both Vandeer and Señor Gar aboard the ship. You see how difficult it now becomes. You trust neither of us.”

  The millionaire smiled. It was a hard, bitter smile.

  “Very well, Gar,” he said sullenly. “I will not tell Vandeer. You will handle the thing. I am aware of your reputation. I will do just as you say.”

  The Island detective got the camera wrapped inside his handkerchief. He placed it carefully under his left arm.

  “That is very good,” he said. “I will be near the smoking room in a short while.”

  He went outside and towards the stern of the yacht, walking carefully in the darkness. Several times he was forced to stop and brace himself. The swell was a heavy one. When he reached his cabin he closed and locked the door, pulled the blinds shut. He placed the camera on a small table, fixing it securely. The handkerchief he returned to his pocket.

  Getting into his berth he lay on his back and smiled. He murmured softly:

  “This Randonn—he is a shrewd gentleman. He says that he will not tell Vandeer of his loss. So many shrewd men—are liars.”

  The four guests of the Randonns were assembled in the smoking room of the yacht. It was not quite ten o’clock. Captain Howker, of the yacht, stood beside Mrs. Lealand, the wife of Harvey Lealand. The captain was a short, thick-set man, with brown-gray eyes. His white uniform was spotless. Mr. Lealand and John Carris sat together, their eyes on Randonn. Mrs. Carris talked in low tones with Sara Randonn, a fine-looking woman in her late forties. Randonn was talking with Jo Gar and Vandeer; he was saying that the captain thought they would run out of the swell very soon. It was a condition usually encountered off the coast line of Formosa.

  There was a puzzled expression in the Hollander’s eyes. As the yacht owner moved away from them and went to one end of the smoking room he said quietly to Jo:

  “We are gathered here—for a reason?”

  Jo Gar shrugged. Randonn raised a hand for silence, said in a low voice:

  “There are aboard two dozen finely matched pearls. They are probably the finest I have seen. I am taking them to a man in Nagasaki, who can reproduce the jewels in excellent fashion. The crew has been carefully picked—many of the men have been with me for years. The captain has great faith in them. You are all my friends. Señor Gar is a man with a splendid Island reputation as a detective. Vandeer has handled my affairs in England for a long time.”

  Randonn paused. He said, frowning: “The pearls disappeared from my cabin this evening. They are gone.”

  There were exclamations from those present. Sara Randonn cried out in a low voice. The captain’s face was set in a grim line. At Jo Gar’s side, breathing heavily, Vandeer stared at Randonn. He said:

  “But I didn’t know—I wasn’t informed that the pearls—” Randonn interrupted, smiling apologetically. He said:

  “I regret that, Vandeer. It was Señor Gar’s wish that you should not know. As I said—the pearls are gone from my cabin.” He smiled more broadly. “Fortunately—they were not the real jewels.”

  There was silence, then exclamations of relief. Sara Randonn laughed in her rather high-pitched manner. The captain swore softly. John Carris said:

  “Good! You already have had them imitated.”

  Randonn nodded. “It was not a satisfactory j
ob,” he replied. “But perhaps it has been good enough. I doubt that.”

  Jo Gar said quietly: “This being the case, what is your object in betraying the fact that the thief has not obtained the real pearls, Mr. Randonn?”

  The millionaire nodded, kept the smile on his lean face. He said in a steady voice:

  “I am sure none of the crew did this thing. I am exempting them from suspicion. I feel very certain that the real jewels are quite safe. They are not resting in a chamois bag, in another camera. I regret very much that one among you—”

  He stopped, shrugged. Captain Howker was letting his eyes move from one face to another. There was a grim expression in them. Harvey Lealand said in a protesting tone:

  “That’s pretty thick, isn’t it, Randonn? You’re accusing one of us of being a thief.”

  Randonn said in a hard voice: “Yes—that’s what I’m doing. I’d like to know who took the imitation pearls. You see, I’ve got to know. This trip will take several weeks. We will return together. I am making an offer. If the one who took the jewels will come to me and confess—that person may simply depart—at Nagasaki. There will be no prosecution, no further talk.”

  The captain was frowning. John Carris spoke in an amused tone. “And if there is no confession?”

  Randonn said grimly: “We will go after the imitations just as though they were real pearls. We will prosecute. And let me remind you that Señor Gar and Henrik Vandeer are aboard. They have each had much experience.”

  Vandeer said: “We do not have to land at any certain hour. We can cruise for days.”

  Randonn nodded. “I am very curious,” he stated grimly. “I have always played fair. We will investigate the crew also, of course. But I am reasonably certain—”

  He checked himself again, shrugged. Then he smiled at those in the smoking room.

  “The imitations are worth only a few hundred dollars,” he reminded. “There is a good chance that we will recover them. I will prosecute. Until midnight I shall be strolling about the deck, or in my cabin. A confession will mean absolute secrecy—no prosecution. I give my word.”