The Island Where Time Stands Still

by Dennis Wheatley

  Suddenly there flashed back into Gregory’s mind the morning on which Madame Fan-ti had taken A-lu-te, Kâo and himself to see the view through the lattices to the women’s court. Recalling it to Tû-lai, he said:

  ‘If you remember, Madame Fan-ti mentioned that you lost your first wife last year, and said that it was time you took another. Then she pointed out a most lovely little person and told us that your father did not wish to press you but hoped that you would take her as a new wife. Was she the Princess Josephine?’

  Tû-lai nodded. ‘Yes; and I recall thinking at the time that my father ought to have warned the lady Fan-ti not to take A-lu-te to the women’s court, in case she stumbled on the truth. That, of course, was why he opposed her being installed there when she first arrived. The lady Fan-ti was not told of the deception it was intended to practise until later, and that morning visit might have ruined everything. At the sight of Josephine Kâo became as nervous as a cat, and, if you remember, did his best to hurry us all away.’

  ‘Then he had seen her before, in San Francisco?’

  ‘Oh, yes; from various things I heard him say to my father I feel sure he must have. Anyhow, as I was telling you, they wanted me to marry her; but, lovely as she is, I felt most reluctant to take a dumb girl for a wife; so I stalled about it. A fortnight later we learned that your party was on its way here. My father called me into his office, and it was only then that I learnt a certain amount about this business.

  ‘He was in a high good humour, as he thought that Kâo was bringing him half a million dollars; and as I had shown reluctance to become affianced to the Princess, he knew that it would be no hardship to me if she was disposed of elsewhere. He explained that he would never have suggested the marriage if he had thought Kâo would pay up; and that this was the outcome of a highly-speculative venture that he had entered into when last in San Francisco, without really expecting it to come off. He had never before spoken to me about your Island, and I had known of it only as a customer on our books entered as Mr. Six, with agency addresses in several cities; but he told me its history, charging me to keep it a close secret, and about how its Council wished to make Josephine its Empress. He also told me how he had come to know the Août’s in San Francisco and of the narrow life they led there. Beyond that he said very little, except that when Kâo arrived I was to say nothing to him or any of his people about the money side of the affair.’

  ‘Did he give no indication of what had led to his becoming involved in the first place?’ Gregory asked.

  Tû-lai shook his handsome head. ‘No, and it was not for me to question him. I was very fond of my father, and it would ill-become me to besmirch his reputation now that he is dead. But in fairness I should tell you that he would go to almost any lengths to increase his great fortune. Although he did not actually say so, I gathered the impression that when Kâo first went to San Francisco to collect Josephine, my father learned of his intentions and forestalled him, with the idea that the Council would pay a big sum to get her back. I think, too, that he was quite capable of cheating Kâo out of his half-million he had seen away to do so.’

  ‘Do you mean that he had already conceived the idea of substituting Shih-niang for Josephine before we arrived?’

  ‘I did not say that; although the precautions he took that the lady A-lu-te should not meet the real Princess seem to suggest it. But, of course, if he did have some such idea it must have gone up in smoke as soon as he realised that Kâo already knew Josephine by sight.’

  ‘Yet the substitution took place all the same.’

  ‘Yes. It was on the day after your arrival that my father told me Kâo was in no position to pay up after all, but they were considering a scheme by which we still might get the half-million in the long run. As it would have been quite contrary to his principles to let Kâo take Josephine away simply on trust, I thought perhaps he was toying with the idea of letting him do so providing that he left the lady A-lu-te behind as a hostage. Naturally I should have been all in favour of that, but I was barking up the wrong tree. The following morning he told me that it had been decided that Shih-niang should play the part of the Princess; and that I must show her every sign of respect until we saw the last of her, because it was of the utmost importance that the lady A-lu-te should not suspect the deception which it was proposed to practise. How it was thought that the fraud would enable Kâo to raise half a million dollars, I have no idea; but, once again, it was not for me to question my father. That’s pretty well all I know about the matter.’

  ‘You have said nothing yet about that part of the plan which required that Shih-niang should be killed.’

  Tû-lai shrugged. ‘I have said nothing because I know nothing. You will recall that while you were here I spent my evenings entertaining the lady A-lu-te and yourself; so I was not present at any of the deliberations between my father and Kâo. But on the last night of your stay, after you had gone to bed, I came in here to ask my father’s permission to accompany your caravan down to Tung-kwan. He agreed at once; and it was then that he remarked to me:

  ‘“For a girl of limited accomplishments Shih-niang gave an excellent performance, and I am really quite distressed at the thought of having to sacrifice her.”

  ‘I took it that he meant that by giving her to Kâo he was adding to his liability in the venture by the considerable amount of money that she represented; but he went on:

  ‘“It is necessary that she should die, and her death appear to be an accident; so I have had to agree that a few nights after they leave Tung-kwan in a sampan she should be held under water until she drowns. I wish matters could have been arranged otherwise, but there seems no alternative if this affair is to be carried through to a satisfactory conclusion.”

  ‘As he used the word “they”, and I knew that the lady A-lu-te was kept in the dark about the whole business, I jumped to the conclusion that it was you whom, in his mind, he was coupling with Kâo. That is why, at the beginning of our talk, I was under the impression that you had been in Kâo’s confidence from the beginning, and that you had arranged Shih-niang’s murder between you.’

  ‘In the circumstances I can hardly blame you for that,’ Gregory said with a wry smile. ‘And, of course, when you warned Shih-niang you had myself as well as Kâo in mind?’

  ‘Yes. Somehow it never occurred to me that a big, cheerful, lazy man like Kâo would take on that sort of unpleasant task himself.’

  ‘Nor me,’ Gregory agreed, ‘although, of course, he may have hired some thug to do it for him.’

  For a moment they were silent, and Gregory did some quick thinking. There was at least a possibility that Tû-lai was lying. As an affectionate son he might be throwing all the blame on Kâo with the object of protecting his father’s memory. Yet it seemed highly improbable that he had invented the whole story. One point that had emerged quite early in their talk could be taken as proof that he had not. He had readily admitted that the Princess was there in the house, and offered to hand her over on the payment of half a million dollars; so there could be no doubt that he had been telling the truth about how Lin Wân had demanded the sum for her from Kâo. Therefore, there could also be little doubt that Kâo had decided that some advantage to himself was to be gained by accepting Shih-niang as a substitute. But what that advantage could be remained a mystery; as did what had really happened in Tung-kwan, and how far, if at all, Kâo had been responsible for the girl’s death.

  Finishing his drink, Gregory set down the glass and asked: ‘Have you no idea at all what object your father and Kâo had in getting Shih-niang to play the part of Josephine?’

  ‘None,’ Tû-lai replied. ‘Unless it was as a temporary measure, adopted to prevent the lady A-lu-te making trouble about leaving here without the Princess.’

  ‘Yes; I thought of that. But it seems hardly likely. I see no reason why Kâo should not have explained to her that half a million dollars’ ransom was required, and that he hadn’t got it.’

  ‘True. Pe
rhaps, though, it was a temporary measure designed to give Kâo time to raise the money; and it was intended to send the real Princess on to him as soon as he had paid up.’

  ‘That is certainly possible. But, if so, why should the carrying out of the plan have necessitated Shih-niang’s death? And, more inexplicable still, why should it have been decided to kill her long before Kâo could get to a place where he had any chance of raising the money? Even if it had been regarded as essential to prevent her from revealing the secret of her temporary imposture after her usefulness had ceased, that does not make sense.’

  ‘I agree. It is quite impossible to formulate any plausible theory on the limited information we have at present. Still, there is a chance that I may come across something among my father’s papers which will throw more light on the matter.’

  Gregory sat forward eagerly. ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘Yes. My father was a very secretive man but also a very methodical one. He made careful notes of all his transactions and in addition kept several diaries dealing with various aspects of his affairs.’ Tû-lai paused and waved a hand towards the stacks of papers on his desk and several shelves of files locked behind a grille at the far end of the room, and added, ‘But you can see for yourself that it will take me weeks to go through them all.’

  ‘Yes; it looks like a long job,’ Gregory agreed. ‘And I suppose in the meantime you would not consider allowing me to take Josephine away, unless I could produce half a million dollars.’

  Tû-lai smiled. ‘I fear my honoured father would turn in his newly-made grave if I accepted much less for her; but I am open to an offer.’

  ‘You think, though, that I am in no position to make you one,’ Gregory smiled back.

  ‘If you were telling the truth when you said you did not know that my father was holding the Princess to ransom until I told you of it this morning, I should find it surprising to learn that you arrived here carrying a small fortune on you.’

  ‘I am not. But say I were, and I handed the half-million over, what would its real value be to you?’

  ‘I don’t quite understand what you are driving at,’ Tû-lai replied with a puzzled frown.

  ‘I mean, in view of what you told A-lu-te and myself about the Communists, and the way in which they now check up on all your financial transactions, what could you manage to keep for yourself out of such a sum?’

  ‘Oh, I see! Well, the answer to that is that as I should not be disposing of a tangible asset in exchange for it, I should be under no necessity to declare it. But, of course, to be of any real value I should have to get it out of the country. Smuggling currency is both difficult and expensive, and there is in addition always the risk that an agent may be caught, which means the complete loss of the consignment he is carrying. I suppose I should have to consider myself lucky if I could get anything over two hundred thousand dollars of it safely banked outside China.’

  ‘You must add to your liabilities the possibility of one of these smuggling operations being traced back to you. If that happened it would probably cost you the best part of what you had left to buy yourself off from being put in a Communist jail. I think you’ll agree that to be relieved of any such risk, and the worry inseparable from conducting such an operation, would be worth another hundred thousand.’

  ‘I suppose it would. But I still don’t see where this discussion is leading us.’

  ‘Simply to this. I am in no position to make you a concrete offer of any kind. But I know people who I am certain would empower me to do so if I were able to get in touch with them. As it is I can only ask you to accept my word for that, and rely on their goodwill. You are a representative of one of the oldest families in China, and one which was invited to settle in the Island when it was first colonised. Let me take Josephine back there and come with us yourself. If, out of gratitude, the Council does not vote you a hundred thousand dollar’s worth of real estate, with a pleasant house, servants and all the rest of it, I’ll eat my hat.’

  ‘Mon Dieu!’ Tû-lai smacked his fist down on his desk and sprang to his feet. ‘This is a terrific idea! Terrific!’

  Gregory also stood up, and, grinning at him, said, ‘Can I take it the deal is on, then?’

  ‘Of course it is on!’ exclaimed Tû-lai, shaking him warmly by the hand. ‘Nothing could suit me better. What a laugh we shall have at having got the best of that fat fool Kâo! And I shall see the enchanting lady A-lu-te again.’

  That factor, as an inescapable commitment implicit in the offer, had not escaped Gregory, and it was the one thing which had caused him to hesitate before making it. He was uneasily conscious that to invite such a likeable rival to settle in the Island might well prove against his own interests. Yet unaided it would have been very difficult for him to get back there; wheras Tû-lai, having a fleet of ships at his disposal, could get him there with comparative ease. And Tû-lai held the Princess, without whom he would have been running his head into a noose if he returned at all. On balance, he felt that he might well leave the future to take care of itself, and that by returning to the House of Lin he had achieved a remarkable triumph.

  As these thoughts were coursing through his mind Tû-lai said, ‘Come; it is long past lunch-time. Our fascinating talk has led me to forget my duties as a host, and you must be famished. After we have eaten I will take you to the women’s quarters and present you to the real Princess.’

  They fed in Tû-lai’s own apartments and over an excellent meal, cooked by a French-trained chef, he talked excitedly of their plans, asking Gregory all sorts of questions about the Island, and speculating on how soon he could wind up his father’s affairs so that they could set off there. When coffee was served he sent a servant to request Madame Fan-ti’s permission for them to wait upon her, and as soon as her consent was brought, they walked through several long airy corridors to her suite.

  They found her sitting in her boudoir with her hands crossed idly in her lap, and dressed in the pure white of deep mourning. It was evident that although eleven days had elapsed since her husband’s death, she had not yet recovered from the shock and, owing to the depth of her grief, was still hardly conscious of the world around her.

  Having apologised for disturbing her, Tû-lai said, ‘Dear Aunt, you will remember Mr. Sallust. He has returned from Tung-kwan and I am anxious to present him to the real Princess Josephine without delay. May I have your permission to send for her, in order that I may do so?’

  ‘Josephine,’ murmured the elderly lady in a grief-stricken and slightly bewildered voice. ‘Josephine; our little Princess. But have they not told you about her?’

  ‘Told me what, dear Aunt?’

  ‘I should have done so myself; but these last days I … I …’ Two large tears rolled form the corners of her once beautiful eyes and ran down her withered cheeks.

  ‘Pray calm yourself,’ begged Tû-lai, and tell us what has happened to her. Is she ill?’

  Madame Fan-ti sadly shook her head. ‘No; but two nights ago the poor child was abducted. A Communist agent got into the women’s quarters and stole her away.’

  20

  The Great Man-Hunt

  Gregory had been tempted to return to the House of Lin by the possibility that there he might fathom the mystery that surrounded the Princess Josephine; but for his chances of being able to take her back to the Island he would not have given a row of beans.

  As he had seen it, Shih-niang’s substitution for her had suggested that she was either dead or—if she ever had been an inmate of the great House of Lin at all—no longer there. If she were there, and old Lin Wân was still alive, to get her out of his clutches would prove about as difficult as getting gold out of the Bank of England. If he were dead there was no reason to suppose that his son would be any more ready to hand, her over. Lastly, even could he be persuaded or tricked into doing so, there remained the almost insoluble problem of getting her across the Pacific to an island which was not served by any regular means of transport. />
  Within a little over an hour of Gregory’s arrival all these doubts and difficulties had been miraculously resolved. The girl was said to be there, Lin Wân was dead, and by skilful negotiation Gregory had achieved the seemingly impossible. Tû-lai had become his eager ally, and was already planning a triumphant arrival at the Island in one of the Lin ships. Yet now, just as Gregory was beginning fully to savour the sweets of success, Madame Fan-ti’s revelation that Josephine had been abducted turned them to dust and ashes in his mouth.

  If anything could have added to his anger and frustration it was her statement that Josephine had been carried off by a Communist agent. After his talk with Tû-lai it had at least seemed clear that Kâo had either killed Shih-niang himself or employed someone else to do so. That he had planned her death was beyond dispute, but his plan had been to drown her one night after they had left Tung-kwan by river. As she had been knifed before they left, Kâo, after all, might have had nothing to do with it. As the Communists had actually kidnapped Josephine, it now appeared obvious that they had been involved in the affair from the beginning; so it might be that another of their agents had forestalled Kâo and, believing Shih-niang to be the real Princess, killed her before he had a chance to do so himself.

  There was yet another possibility. Had Kâo a tie-up with the Communists? Knowing himself to be unable to get the best of Lin Wân on his own, had he bought their help, or entered into some sort of deal with them? Perhaps he had got them to rid him of Shih-niang, and Josephine was now being taken south by them to join them either in Tung-kwan or some city further east. Without the government knowing anything about the matter, Kâo might have made it worth while for the local Communist boss in Tung-kwan to put his bravos on the job, in the same way that Lin Wân had employed Quong-Yü to have Josephine kidnapped in San Francisco. A bribe of say, ten thousand dollars might quite well have been sufficient to secure such co-operation; and for Kâo, at that price, it would have been dirt cheap compared with having to try to raise half a million for Lin Wân.