“You see, the captain had many advantages. He could easily gain admittance to the cabins—there were duplicate keys. The first officer has informed me that Randonn intended to dispose of the yacht shortly. Howker saw a chance. He knows only a little about pearls. Randonn had told me that only himself, his wife and myself knew the pearls were aboard. That wasn’t so. He had informed Howker, because he wanted to be sure of the crew. I guessed that, when Randonn was so positive the crew was not involved in the theft. The captain would be the one Randonn would take into his confidence.”
Howker scowled at Jo. The Island detective said quietly:
“Howker got into the cabin and found the pearls. It wasn’t difficult. He had never seen Randonn using a camera. The second officer stayed outside and watched. But when Randonn announced that the pearls that had been taken were imitations—Howker believed him. The very fact that he had got them from the camera box, placed so conspicuously, helped him to believe. And perhaps he was becoming a little worried. Randonn was a determined man. Howker went to the cabin to replace the pearls—perhaps to search again. Deming was supposed to be watching Randonn, but the owner got away from him. He surprised Howker. The captain had a .22 caliber gun. He used it, ran to the companionway, went up a few steps towards the bridge, turned and came down. It was dark—and he moved rapidly. He tossed the weapon overboard. Randonn was silenced, and he had been shot by a bullet from the type of gun a sea captain does not carry.
Jo Gar smiled faintly. “But he made several mistakes. He thought up a logical story—and kept referring to the thief and murderer as ‘he.’ In spite of the woman’s gun that was used. I was suspicious. So I told the captain that the pearls that had been stolen and returned were not imitations, but the real thing. I told him they were in my cabin. At dawn I left the cabin and gave the captain the chance to seek the pearls. When Deming attacked me on the deck, when I saw he was wearing a dark-colored uniform—I knew Howker was the man. It was so.”
Howker swore hoarsely. Jo Gar smiled at him. He said:
“Six of the pearls in the group of twenty-four were real, Captain. Only six. But you had the six, along with the others. Toyen will make six more—and even an expert will have difficulty in distinguishing the real from the reproduced. You were not an expert, Captain.”
Howker said hoarsely: “I figured you’d go after—Vandeer.”
The Hollander smiled at Jo Gar. The Island detective said slowly: “Vandeer was with me when you shot Randonn. That was unfortunate, for you.”
The captain said nothing. The first officer looked at Jo Gar.
“I wasn’t in—on this, Señor Gar,” he said. “I didn’t even suspect—” Jo Gar nodded. “I believe that,” he said. “Few of us suspected the captain. He said a short time ago that he would like to send a radio stating that we had Randonn’s killer.” The Island detective’s voice was grim. “Send it, please.”
The first officer nodded. He moved towards the door of the smoking room. Deming glared at him. Jo Gar rose to his feet and lighted a brown-paper cigarette. He said very quietly:
“The six pearls of value were not in my cabin, Captain. But they are aboard the ship. They are in a safe place.”
Howker smiled mockingly. “You half-breeds are clever, he said hoarsely. “Or lucky.”
Jo Gar bowed, his blue-gray, almond-shaped eyes looking beyond the murderer of Randonn.
“It would have been so easy to have been unlucky—bound for Nagasaki,” he said simply.
Nagasaki Knives
Jo Gar, the Island detective, learns ways the knives of Nagasaki are used.
There were no other persons on the iron-railed porch of the Oriental Hotel; the air was chilly and there was no moon in the sky. Jo Gar stood with his short arms at his sides and shivered slightly. He was not accustomed to the coolness of Japan, but he liked it. In the afternoon he had walked through the streets of Nagasaki; he had sipped saké and had dined well. Now he stood on the ancient porch of the rambling hotel and watched the little lights that flickered in the hills beyond the city—lights in small houses built on the terraced rice fields.
The hotel was in a noisy section of the town—it was not the sort of place tourists visited. But Jo Gar felt more at home among the natives of a town or city; he did not particularly care for English or American food. And he felt that Toyen, the expert on pearls, would be more at ease when visiting him at the Oriental.
The Island detective lighted one of his brown-paper cigarettes and smiled a little. He was thinking of a yacht aboard which there had been a murder—and of the yacht’s captain, Howker. He was thinking of the second officer, Deming.
From the street below the porch there came the shrilling voice of a rickshaw man. It was raised in the peculiar cry of warning common to Nagasaki. Jo Gar half closed his almond-shaped eyes. Captain Howker and Deming were under a special guard, aboard the Eastern Star. The yacht was anchored off the docks, less than a half mile from the Oriental Hotel, and the first officer was aboard, waiting to hear what was to be done with the murderer and his accomplice.
Jo Gar shook his head slowly. He turned slightly as the sound of pattering feet reached him. A short, slant-eyed Japanese came towards him. He smiled, showing even, white teeth. He spoke in stilted English. “Señor Gar—I am the servant of Ichito Toyen. My master is ill—he wishes you come to his home. I have come to guide you.”
The Island detective made a clicking sound with his lips. The servant bowed a little.
“It is too bad—I am so sorry,” Jo said softly. “Your master—does he live far from this hotel?”
The servant shook his head. He grinned. He gestured towards the street that wound below the porch.
“It is very little to go,” he said. “There is the rickshaw—I will go beside it.”
Jo Gar nodded slowly. “Your master is not very ill?” he said anxiously.
The servant continued to grin. “It is the little fish he has eaten,” he said. “I think that they were not good.”
The Island detective smiled. “Go to the rickshaw—I am chilly,” he said. “I will obtain a coat and come down in a short time.”
The servant bowed and moved to the steps that led down from the porch to the narrow street. He went lightly, very quickly. Jo Gar stood watching him, a small smile playing about his thin lips. He ran browned fingers lazily through his graying hair.
“It is very strange,” he observed softly, as he moved towards the dark-wooded doors that led into the hotel. “In Manila there is much fish. Yet when Toyen was there he preferred meats and rice. He did not once dine upon crawfish. It is very strange.”
When he reached the first floor of the hotel, ascending wide stairs with ceiling fans hanging motionless above them, he went directly towards his small room. It was at the end of a corridor, and there was a figure standing near the door. Jo Gar halted a few feet from the figure, then said in a pleased tone:
“Toyen! It is good to see you again.”
The Japanese came towards him—they clasped hands. Toyen’s little black eyes were shining brightly. He said in good English:
“Señor Gar—and you look splendid!”
Jo Gar nodded “I do well,” he returned. “And you, too, appear in fine health.”
Toyen chuckled happily. “I eat and drink—and feel nicely,” he stated. “You have had a difficult journey here. Murder—on the yacht.” The Island detective nodded. He opened the door of his room and gestured for the pearl expert to enter. When they were inside, Jo said:
“Tell me—you have not been made ill by eating little fish?”
Toyen chuckled again. “I do not eat fish,” he stated. “There has been sickness in Nagasaki because of that. But one does not suffer from what one does not do.”
Jo Gar gestured towards a chair and stood frowning at the shuttered windows of the room. From the city came many sounds—among them the sound of gongs. The Island detective nodded his head slowly. “That is a truth—one does not,” he agreed. �
��A man has just come to me on the porch. He stated he was your servant, and that you were ill—from eating little fish. I was requested to come to you.”
Toyen rose from the chair in which he had seated himself and widened his dark eyes on those of the Island detective.
“It is a matter for the police,” he said slowly. “I have been absent—and just returned to my house. I was given your note. My servant is in the hospital—a woman is taking his place.”
Jo Gar shrugged. “I was returning for my coat,” he stated. “I am glad you arrived—to give me warning.”
The pearl expert said: “It would be wise to descend and have the man who posed as my servant arrested. In that way—”
The Island detective shook his head very slowly from side to side.
He spoke in a toneless voice.
“Sanford Randonn was murdered, aboard his yacht, Toyen. I was bringing him to you, because he had purchased six very fine pearls. I had told him that you could imitate them splendidly. He was murdered for the pearls, by the yacht captain—Howker. The second officer aided the captain. Fortunately, I was able to trick them—they are prisoners aboard the yacht for the present. But there are the six pearls—”
In the corridor beyond the door that Jo Gar had closed behind him there was the sound of footfalls—heavy footfalls. Toyen stared towards the door as they died suddenly. There was a loud tapping—a voice called:
“Señor Gar!”
The Island detective sighed a little. He called in a low voice: “Yes, Mr. Vandeer—come in!”
The door opened. The man who entered had a ruddy complexion, broad shoulders and eyes over which he wore shell-rimmed glasses. He looked at Toyen, the Japanese—said jerkily:
“Can I talk—”
Jo Gar interrupted. “You are excited,” he said quietly. “You may talk—what has happened?”
The Hollander said: “Howker and Deming—they’ve escaped. They must have bribed someone in the crew—they got overboard. They’re gone!”
The Island detective let his diminutive body relax. Toyen muttered something in his own tongue. Jo Gar said tonelessly.
“Ichito Toyen, Mr. Vandeer. An expert on pearls, Vandeer. A detective employed by the late Sanford Randonn, Toyen.”
The two men bowed. Vandeer muttered. “I’d been ashore—the first officer gave me the news when I returned to the yacht. They’ve been gone about an hour. Nagasaki police officials have been notified.”
Jo Gar turned his eyes towards those of the Japanese. He smiled coldly.
“It is very fortunate that you reached me, Toyen,” he said. “I am doubly warned.”
The Japanese said slowly: “You will not go with the one who waits for you—”
The Island detective shrugged. “It would be foolish to go,” he stated. “But I think it would be more foolish not to go.”
Vandeer stared at Jo, a puzzled expression in his eyes. The Island detective explained briefly, and the Hollander swore beneath his breath.
“It is a trap, of course,” he said. “They have moved swiftly. Perhaps it is the pearls they are after, or perhaps—”
Vandeer stopped speaking and narrowed his eyes on the browned face of Jo Gar. The Island detective nodded his head slowly.
“Or perhaps it is Jo Gar they seek,” he anticipated. “I shall take my coat—it is chilly outside.”
He moved towards the closet at one end of the room. Toyen said protestingly:
“It is very foolish to go with this man. In Nagasaki there are ways of using knives—”
Jo Gar slipped a light coat over his gray suiting.
“In many spots about the world—there are ways of using knives,” he agreed. “I have the feeling that if I do not go to them—they will come to me. I would prefer to make it simple—for them.”
Vandeer said grimly: “I could accompany you, Señor—as a friend.”
Jo Gar shook his head. “I will go alone,” he said quietly. “And please do not attempt to follow.”
Vandeer was frowning. “The pearls are of great value—and you have them,” he reminded. “They belong to Mrs. Randonn, of course. You not only risk your own life, but you—”
Jo Gar smiled slightly. He bowed towards the Hollander.
“I suspected you were more interested in the pearls than in Señor Gar,” he said. “I will not take the jewels with me—is that better?”
Vandeer said slowly: “Sanford Randonn trusted me, Señor. I was for several years in his confidence. I should like to accompany you.”
Toyen said quietly: “It is dangerous, Jo. I do not like it.”
The Island detective smiled a little. “It is dangerous, but it is my business. I am forewarned. I shall go alone. Please do not follow.”
He went to the door, said to Toyen: “I will come to your house in an hour or so. I have the address. We will discuss matters then.”
Toyen bowed; his face was a mask without expression. Vandeer said nastily:
“You are responsible—for the pearls, Señor Gar.”
Jo nodded. He showed his teeth in a lazy smile. He nodded his head very slowly.
“As I was responsible for discovering the murderer of your employer,” he agreed, and moved into the corridor, followed by Vandeer and Toyen.
He closed the door of his room, locked it carefully. Vandeer frowned down at the ancient lock. Jo Gar regarded the Hollander with a peculiar smile in his almond-shaped eyes.
“The lock does not matter too much, Mr. Vandeer,” he said softly, tonelessly. “The pearls are not in the room.”
He bowed and went down the wide stairs ahead of the Hollander and Ichito Toyen.
The slant-eyed Japanese stood beside a rickshaw that was neither new nor comfortable in appearance. The one between the shafts had a scarred face, broad, rounded shoulders and finely muscled legs. He looked at Gar without expression in his small eyes. The one who professed to be Toyen’s servant grinned.
“It is five, ten minutes—very short time,” he stated. “I will come behind.”
The Island detective nodded. He climbed into the rickshaw, seated himself. His eyes went to the porch of the Oriental; he saw in the semi-darkness the figure of Vandeer, near the rail. Jo smiled at the man behind.
“It will be good to see your master again,” he stated. “Let us go.” The one who had lied to him spoke in a shrill tone to the rickshaw man. They moved down the slope—the street was lighted dimly. The motion of the rickshaw was easy and steady—the one between the shafts held back his strength until they neared the foot of the winding street. Then he cried out, pulled hard and turned sharply to the right. Coolies scattered from his path—the street became darker as they progressed.
Jo Gar shoved his right hand into a pocket of his coat and gripped the weapon within. He turned his head slightly and watched the Japanese who was trotting along behind the rickshaw. The man moved gracefully; he kept his eyes on the store fronts which they were passing. The windows were filled with nuts, foods in variety. Charcoal fires gleamed in the burners; Jo could see the figures of squatted humans around the glowing coals.
The wind whipped down a street that had now become a road. Flaming torches showed ahead and to the right and left. The rickshaw seemed to be moving away from the river and towards the rising rice terraces. They passed what appeared to be a temple. The rickshaw man was moving more slowly now. But his pace was a steady one.
From the water there came the deep toned whistle of a big ship, and almost immediately, from some spot ahead, there were the distant tones of a gong. Jo Gar smiled with his lips pressed together. “Strange city,” he murmured. “The old—and the new.” His fingers loosened, then tightened on the grip of the automatic in the right pocket of his overcoat. He breathed softly: “The new—and the old.”
As he breathed the last word he was thinking of knives. Vandeer was right, of course. And Toyen, also. Captain Howker and Deming—they had escaped from the yacht. They hated him. They wanted the pearls they had killed
to procure—and then had not obtained. And they had sent a Japanese to trick him. He was very sure of that.
The rickshaw rolled over a dirt road now. There were bamboo huts along the road, most of them set back a short distance. It was a squalid section, on the outskirts of the city. There was faint light from the stars—and torches along the route. The road swung sharply to the left; Jo Gar twisted in the rickshaw seat.
The Japanese was not trotting along behind the vehicle now. He had vanished!
The Island detective leaned forward, slipped to the spot where his feet had rested. The rickshaw man noticed the change in balance, started to turn. Jo let his body swing ahead of the right wheel, struck the dirt of the road on his feet. He fell forward, went to his knees.
There was a thud from the rickshaw—the faint hiss that preceded it, ended in that sound. It was a sound not unlike that of a knife hilt battering against the cushion. Jo swung to his feet, half turned. He heard the hiss a second time, twisted his body to one side. An object streaked close to his head, struck the dirt beyond him.
The rickshaw was off to one side of the road now, the shafts dragging in the dirt. Jo caught a glimpse of the broad-shouldered Japanese. He was running in bent-over fashion, towards a hut off the road. A torch catapulted flaming through the darkness, struck the road close to the Island detective. His figure was a target in the flames, but only for a second.
He leaped to his right. One knife struck his trailing coat material—the other fell short, clattered over the little stones of the road. Jo Gar moved with his head and shoulders bent low—moved in zig-zag fashion. His right hand held the automatic, but he did not use it. He was breathing heavily.
He kept moving, but his eyes could see only the faint shapes of figures—human figures—across the road. He ran to the left, towards a small house that was set back twenty feet or so. The place was dark; he moved towards the rear. There was a small bamboo structure not far behind the house—he ran towards it.
West of Guam Page 16