“That’s what I’m coming to,” answered Leighton.
“One of these boys has been in the house and knows exactly where the loot is planted. In the third room back you’ll find a mahogany chest with brass corners. It’s a Chinese chest with a Chinese lock— easy to break open. Put this jimmy in your coat pocket.”
The driver turned and spoke a word in Chinese to Leighton.
“We’re almost there,” said the chief. “Now listen: you’ll find that chest full of clothes; throw them out. Clear at the bottom you’ll come to a little box of carved ivory about two inches square. Don’t stop to open it—drop it in your pocket quick and get away. We want to be gone before a crowd gathers; if we have to call for police help, it will make complications.”
“Just that one little box?” asked Kelley incredulously.
“Just that,” answered Leighton. “That’s enough. There’s enough opium packed in that little cube to pay ransom for a king.”
It was too easy … So reflected Kelley as he bent above the mahogany chest in the dimly lighted room and threw garments of tapestried silk out upon the tile floor. The aged door-tender had dropped from a tap of his fist; the two Chinese boys with waving revolvers and threatening shouts had herded the scared inmates of the house into an angle of the courtyard and were now standing guard while Kelley looted the chest. Nothing to do now but drop the little ivory box into his pocket and get away. Hardly a blow struck! It was too easy—it wasn’t good sport.
The tiny box of carved ivory was in his pocket; he straightened up and turned, to leave.
Sudden uproar in the courtyard—fierce shouts of fighting men! Kelley, uncomprehending, started for the doorway.
The shouters broke in upon him—a posse of fierce Sikhs with clubs and guns— turbaned Sikhs of mighty stature, dressed, in policeman blue. Kelley had no thought for catastrophes. Were not these his allies? Was not he also on the side of the law? Leighton evidently had been driven to call them to his help.
The club of a Sikh lammed the side of Kelley’s head. About him flamed spinning stars; he reeled. Sikhs grabbed his arms and kept him from falling—dragged him roughly through the door.
The courtyard whirled before his dizzy eyes— wavering torches—shouting policemen—his two Chinese confederates held captive—a lank white man in light summer suit with an outsticking beard of brown.
“What the hell?” whispered Kelley. His head sang; his thoughts were chaos. Wait till these dam’ Hindoos find out their mistake—clubbing the very men they were sworn to aid. Just wait! The laugh will be on them all right then.
On they jerked him furiously—through room and court and room, out into the street. He looked hopefully for Leighton to set things right. In vain! Leighton and his car had disappeared.
Kelley’s dizziness passed. He turned on his captors.
“See here!” he remonstrated. “You got things mixed; you—”
The police flourished their clubs; their grip tightened on his arms. Off into the rain they started. Kelley decided to be sensible. He shut up, and went along.
CHAPTER III
Things were happening too blamed fast; Kelley’s slow mind couldn’t keep up.
Only a minute ago there had been those fool policemen dragging him off to jail. And then through the darkness had loomed up the Lank Man with the Brown Beard. He had halted the Sikhs with a sharp word of command—had sent them about their business with a jabber of Hindustan— and now was leading Kelley off by the arm to God-knows-where—just the two of them footing it off alone through the rain.
“How come?” demanded Kelley.
“You’re out on bail,” explained Hamilton, “paroled to me. I know these Sikhs pretty well— I’ve been around Shanghai for some time. They know who I am and where I live. I convinced them that I knew you and that I’d be responsible for you; so they agreed to let me take you to my room and keep you till morning. I haven’t much of a place, but it’s better than jail.”
Hamilton’s explanation was labored and prolix. In a keener listener than Kelley it would have roused suspicion that he was handling only the fringe of the truth. But Kelley wasn’t the suspicious sort.
“I saw you back there in the house,” he said. “The way you stood there, I thought at first it was somebody bossing them policemen; and then I saw it was only you. How did you happen along just when you did?”
“Oh, I often roam around at night,” evaded Brown Beard.
Kelley brushed cold drops of rain from his eyes. They were headed against the wind, and it was keen going.
“This is a hell of a night to roam around,” said he.
“What made you do it?” countered Hamilton.
“We was out on official business,” explained Kelley. “Them police will find they made a big mistake; they arrested the wrong men.”
“Do you call it official business to break into a Chinese house and rob it?” asked Brown Beard quietly.
“Look here!” blustered Kelley. “I guess I know my business. You don’t need, to think I’m a thief.”
“It’s what the judge will think,” said Hamilton bluntly. “He’s pretty short with Americans who break into Chinese houses. Only last month he sent two chaps to Bilibid. They forced their way into a Chinese residence under the pretext that they were international police searching for opium. When the Sikhs caught them, they were making off with five hundred dollars worth of jewelry. They’re up for three years at hard labor.”
Kelley had no answer. Here was something to worry about … Suppose Leighton shouldn’t come forward to clear him.… But of course he would; he was the sort you could bank on. Kelley reassured himself thus again and again.
Hamilton was likewise silent, his head down against the rain. There was no further talk until they were snug in his warm room.
The room was a medley of Oriental curios— painted silks and crescent swords on the walls— vases and candlesticks on the mantel—choice bits of lacquer and brass and cloisonne on the round table.
“This is a swell room,” said Kelley as he dropped into a chair before the open fire. “I sure appreciate what you’re doing for me. I don’t want you to think I’m a crook.”
“I wouldn’t let you loose in here with my curios if I thought that,” said Hamilton. “All the same, you have to admit that the evidence is against you. Why don’t you open up, Kelley, and tell me all about it? I happen to be a friend of the judge, and if I have the facts, maybe I can help you out.”
“I’m going to tell you,” said Kelley. “But I want you to keep it all confidential. Maybe you can keep it from coming out in Court. I’m employed in the Secret Service, you see, and that’s why.” He went on and told his tale through to the end.
“And I got the opium,” he wound up triumphantly and pulled the little ivory box from his pocket. “Got it just before those fool police butted it. Good thing they didn’t search me, or I wouldn’t have it now.”
Brown Beard gave the box no attention for the moment.
“What makes you so positive that your man Leighton is in Government Service?” he asked.
“I saw his papers,” testified Kelley. “And I heard him sending a cablegram to the Secretary of State. And what’s more, I’m a judge of men; I know an official when I see one. He’s a big man; he ain’t no ordinary sort like you and me.”
“But supposing you’re wrong.” Brown Beard turned a plate of ancient porcelain, over and over in his slender hands as he argued. “Supposing he wanted that house robbed and put you up to do it— so that he wouldn’t get caught at it himself. What then?”
Kelley looked about stubbornly for an answer—and found it between his fingers.
“Here’s the box of opium,” he retorted. “I guess that shows he was telling me the truth. There’s enough dope in this here little box to pay a king’s ransom.”
“Must be going up in price,” said Hamilton drily. He took the ivory box from Kelley’s hand and glanced at it casually.
“By Ge
orge!” he exclaimed, and sat up suddenly, straight and tense. His eyes devoured the carving on the little box with the rapt devotion of the connoisseur. He was again an artist, forgetful of all save the things of art.
“What’s the idea?” asked Kelley, “That’s just an ordinary little ivory box.”
“Ordinary!” cried Hamilton. “Kelley, that’s the most exquisite carving I’ve ever seen—the very soul of Canton done in ivory. And old!—see, it has the delicate yellow of antiquity!” He had taken a reading-glass from the table and was intent on the design carved on the box. “The imperial dragon,” he went on, half to himself. “I understood there was only one box of this pattern in China. I wonder—” He broke off and sat looking for many minutes at the curio while Kelley watched with yawning indifference. “Did you look at the opium?—inside the box?” demanded Hamilton suddenly.
“Why, no,” answered Kelley in bewilderment. “Leighton said it would spoil the evidence to open the box. But if you want to—”
“Oh, never mind,” yawned Hamilton. He rose to his lank height and set the tiny box on the mantel. “It’s tied with a peculiar silver cord that would take a while to undo—and I’d hate to cut it or break it. Kelley, you have one virtue: when you get an idea, you hang to it like a bulldog; but you have one Weakness: there’s room in your skull for only one idea at a time—and therefore, you’re a fool.… What say we go to bed?”
Kelley had slept through typhoons and hurricanes, and he was not the sort to keep awake over the logic that had dubbed him fool. He stretched out on his back beside Hamilton in the comfortable bed, and slept—and snored.
“Kelley!” said Hamilton sharply.
“Here!” Kelley had finished breakfast before the cheerful open fire in Hamilton’s room, and was amiably picking his teeth.
“What’s your honest opinion of Leighton this morning? Do you still believe he’s on the square?”
“Why should I believe any different?” evaded Kelley; it was the most definite answer that he could make.
“In that case, you’d better go and see him this morning,” ordered Hamilton. “You’ll not be wanted in Court till afternoon. I’ll look for you back here at one o’clock. Perhaps Leighton can help you get clear. Here, take him his little box of opium.” He handed the ivory box to Kelley as he spoke. “Now trot along.”
“I thought you wanted to open this first,” Kelley sought to temporize.
“No, no,” said Hamilton wearily. “I’ve seen opium before. Besides, I have a busy morning and want to be alone. One thing, though—” His voice had the ring of command. “Do not tell Leighton that you have been with me. Now good-by—and good luck!”
Kelley went. He had the feeeling that he was walking in the midst of mystery, but he lacked the brains to think through. Between forces that he could not understand, he obeyed their pulls and pushes — and trusted to. Kelley’s luck.
It was a drab morning, but North Szechuen road was vivid with color. It was a little while before Kelley realized that the color was that of many turbans wound ’round the heads of black-bearded Sikhs.
“All the policemen in town is out this morning,” he muttered. “I hope they don’t start pitching on me again.”
Onward he went with fear and trembling. The groups of armed Sikhs watched him, but offered no interference.
The front door coolie at Six Hundred peeped out cautiously.
“I want to see Leighton,” announced Kelley.
“No can do.” The coolie sought to close the door, but Kelley’s foot was in the way. Kelley shouldered his way in, shoved the little coolie to one side, and made his way up the two flights of stairs.
Leighton had not heard him coming. He sat at his table in the cheerful room upstairs, his head buried in his hands. A revolver lay close to his elbow. The fire was cloyed with the light ash of many burned papers.
“Here I am,” said Kelley.
“What do you want?” Leighton leaped warily to his feet; his hand reached for his revolver.
“Didn’t you want me to come back?”
“What for?” Leighton’s voice was suspicious and hard; the poise and self-possession of yesterday were gone; his mouth worked nervously.
“Why, to work, of course. I’m hired by the month, ain’t I? The police butted in on me last night, but they let me go again. I’m out on bail.”
“There’ll be nothing for you to do for a few days,” said Leighton, nobly pulling himself together. “Not till I get word from Washington. You may go where you please now. Tell me where you’re staying, and I’ll send for you when I want you.”
“I have to appear in court this afternoon,” related Kelley. “The judge is liable to send me to jail if he don’t know I’m in the Secret Service.”
“I’ll telephone him,” promised Leighton glibly. “He’ll let you off all right.”
“I got the opium O. K.” Kelley pulled the little ivory box from his pocket.
“You did!” Leighton sprang forward and tore the box from Kelley’s hand; his voice trembled with eagerness. “By Jove, that’s it! Good for you! Did you open it?”
“No, of course not. You said not to. And I was lucky enough to keep it hid from the police.”
Leighton made no reply. He turned his back and stood facing the window. He pulled a knife from his pocket; Kelley guessed that he was cutting the tiny silver cord that held shut the ivory box.
“All right?” Kelley took a step forward in his eagerness to see.
“You fool!” cried Leighton; he swung furiously on Kelley. “You ass! You crook! What the devil do you mean?”
“Mean?” Kelley in perplexity stooped and picked up the box that Leighton had dashed to the floor. A few waxy brown pellets were still clinging to its inside. He put them to his nose and sniffed. “That’s opium, ain’t it?”
“Of course it is,” Leighton screamed with rage into Kelley’s very face. “I suppose you call it a joke—you big thick-head! Do you think I’d go to all that trouble to get ten dollars’ worth of dope!”
“Well—but—” Kelley grew angry in his turn. “Stop your cussing and talk sense. Look out—” His hands went up in self-defense.
He was a big man and strong, but he was slow—no match for a foaming wildcat like Leighton. He found himself thrown down two flights of stairs as neatly as if he had been a sack of rice. The front door coolie took hold handily and dumped him forth into the cosmopolitan publicity of North Szechuen Road. The door behind him banged shut.
“Well, heck!” Kelley got staggeringly to his feet; his hand still clutched instinctively the tiny ivory box carved with the imperial dragon. “Everybody says I’m a fool. I’d like to know what it all means.”
The ring of turbaned policemen had gathered closer while he was inside. They gazed at Kelley after the manner of strong men, but let him pass without interference.
“Guess I’ll go back and see Hamilton,” muttered Kelley as he started off. “There’s one thing I can tell him for sure; that man Leighton is nothing but a blamed crook.”
Hamilton was sitting in his armchair before the open fire when the door opened and Kelley limped in.
“Back already?” he asked without rising.
“Didn’t you find Leighton?”
“Sure I did! He’s a crook! He threw me downstairs.” Kelley flopped into a chair and gently massaged a bruise on his cheek.
“That’s too bad. Sit still awhile and rest. I’ve been studying some of my curios.”
Hamilton’s occupation indeed was manifest. A brass bowl lay in his lap; a pair of porcelain vases and the Samurai dagger beside him on the table. His hand held a tiny object that glittered green.
“I wouldn’t give a rap for all that stuff,” said Kelley stiffly, “except that dagger—that’s a real humdinger.”
“You’ll enjoy looking at this one.” Hamilton handed across the tiny bit of green. “Handle it with care; it’s valued at ten thousand dollars.”
“Ten thousand dollars! Gee! Wha
t is it?” Kelley looked with awe at the treasure —a mite of cool green stone carved into a pendant an inch and a half long.
“That the finest specimen of carved jade in China. It was stolen last summer from the Imperial Museum in Pekin, and there’s a reward of a thousand dollars for its safe return. You and I will start for Pekin tomorrow to collect the reward.”
“Where did you get it?” Kelley failed to grasp the significance of the “you and I.”
“Last night, while you were snoring,” was the answer. “I took it out of your little ivory box and left some pills of opium in its place.”
“Oh! Then that—” Kelley sat and thought with growing understanding— pleased at his own astuteness in being able now to see through the whole mystery. “Sure, I see it all now. Leighton and his gang must have found out some way about the jade and wanted to steal it. And they hired me to be the goat — the yellow bunch! Say, he pretty nearly fooled me at that. I could have sworn he was on the square.”
“He’s a good actor,” said Hamilton. “And he’s shrewd; it’s mighty hard to get anything on him. Even now—”
“And he told me it was opium,” chuckled Kelley. “It was sure a joke ori him when he opened the box and found it was opium. He’s a crook all right He ought to be arrested.”
“That’s being attended to,” said Hamilton patiently. “My men will pick him up this morning when he leaves the house. Perhaps you saw a few of them in the street.”
“Your men?” asked Kelley. “I saw some policemen. Who the dickens are you?”
“I’m in the Secret Service,” answered Hamilton. “I’ve been here in the East for some time — trying to round up a few birds like Leighton.”
“You a detective?” said Kelley bluntly. “Well, there sure ain’t nobody would guess it—not in fifty years.”
“Thanks!” said Hamilton. “That’s all to the good. But about this pendant—” He leaned forward and pointed with his pencil to the details of the Carving. “Observe here the cluster of pomegranates— and here the gnarled tree—and here the teahouse beside the one-arched bridge. The wisdom of a thousand generations graven on an inch-long gem.”
The Adventure Megapack Page 41