"But now I realized what I had done. Colonel Beetham was a hero, he was honored everywhere. What if it became known how I had left India? No journey could ever have been more innocent, but this is a cynical world. Doing a kind act, a gallant act, Colonel Beetham had put himself in the position, in the world's eyes, of running away with another man's wife. If it became known, the Colonel's splendid career would be wrecked. It must never become known. I made up my mind I would see to that."
"And you have," remarked Beetham softly. "Gentlemen, you have just heard what I did referred to as a gallant act. But it was as nothing compared with Eve Durand's gallantry ever since."
"First of all," the woman went on, "I wrote a letter to Eric. I told him he must never try to find me - for his own sake. I said that if I was found, if the story came out of how I had left India, I would not hesitate a moment. I would clear Colonel Beetham's name at once by a clear account of why I had gone. I would say I left because I discovered my husband was a murderer. Eric didn't answer, but he must have received the letter. He never tried to find me after that. He did not want any one else to find me - as he has recently proved to you."
She paused. "That is about all. I - I have had rather a hard struggle of it. I sold my jewelry and lived on the proceeds for a time. Then I went to Nice, and under the name of Marie Lantelme, I got a place in the opera company. There, for the first time, I realized that another man was on my trail - a man who would never give up. Sir Frederic Bruce of Scotland Yard, in charge of the Hilary Galt case. He knew that Eric had visited Galt's office the day of the murder, and when he read of my disappearance in India, he must have sensed a connection. One night when I came from the theater in Nice, an Inspector from Scotland Yard stopped me on the Promenade des Anglais. 'You are Eve Durand,' he said. I denied it, got away from him, managed to reach Marseilles. From there I went to New York. I changed my appearance as much as I could - the color of my hair - and under the name of Jennie Jerome, secured a position as a model. Again Scotland Yard was on my track. I had to disappear in the night. Eventually I arrived in San Francisco, desperate, penniless. On a ferry I met Helen Tupper-Brock, who had lived near us in Devonshire. She has been so kind - she got me my position here. I was happy again, until Sir Frederic Bruce came, still following that old trail."
Durand got slowly to his feet. "I hope you're satisfied," he said thickly.
"Oh, Eric -"
"You've done for me. You ought to be satisfied now." His eyes flamed red. "You've saved the spotless reputation of your damned Sir Galahad -"
"You're going to confess?" cried Flannery.
Durand shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. "Why not? What else is left?" He turned his blazing eyes on Charlie Chan. "Everything this devil said was true. I admire him for it. I thought I was clever. But he's beat me -" His voice rose hysterically. "I killed Sir Frederic. Why shouldn't I? It was the only way. He stood there grinning at me. My God - what a man! He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't call quits. Sixteen years, and he was still at my heels. Sixteen years, and he wouldn't forget. Yes, I killed him -"
"And the velvet slippers?" Chan inquired softly.
"On his feet. The same old velvet slippers I'd left in that office, long ago. I saw them just after I fired, and then my nerve went. It was like a judgment - my trade-mark - on the feet of Sir Frederic - pointing to me. I snatched them off - took them with me. I - I didn't know what to do with them. My nerve was gone - but I'd killed him first. Yes - I killed him. And I'm ready to pay. But not in the way you think."
Suddenly he wheeled about and crashed through the French window into the garden of the bungalow.
"The fire-escape," Flannery shouted. "Head him off -"
The Captain, Duff and Chan were close behind. Charlie ran to the fire-escape at the left. But it was not that for which Eric Durand was headed to-night. He leaped to the rail that enclosed the garden; for an instant his big figure poised, a dark silhouette against the misty sky. Then silently it disappeared.
They ran to the rail and looked down. Far below, in the dim light of a street lamp, they saw a black, huddled heap. A crowd was gathering around it.
CHAPTER XXII
Hawaii Bound
THEIR pursuit so tragically ended, the three men came slowly back into the living-room of the bungalow.
"Well," said Flannery, "that's the end of him."
"Escaped?" Miss Morrow cried.
"From this world," nodded the Captain. Eve Durand gave a little cry. Miss Morrow put an arm about her. "There's work for me below," added Flannery, and went quickly out.
"We'd better go home, my dear," said Miss Morrow gently. She and Eve Durand went to the hall. Kirk followed and opened the door for them. There was much he wanted to say, but under the circumstances silence seemed the only possible course.
"I can get my car," he suggested.
"No, thanks," answered Miss Morrow. "We'll find a taxi."
"Good night," he said gravely. "I shall hope to see you soon."
When he returned to the living-room, Colonel Beetham was speaking. "Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it. What a washout that life was! Poor Major."
Duff was calmly filling his pipe, unperturbed. "By the way," he drawled, "I had a cable about him this morning. He was dishonorably discharged from the British Army ten years ago. So his right to the title may be questioned. But no doubt you knew that, Colonel Beetham?"
"I did," Beetham replied.
"You knew so much," Duff continued. "So much you weren't telling. What were you doing on the floor below that Tuesday night?"
"Precisely what I told Flannery I was doing. I ran down to inform Li Gung that he needn't wait."
"I didn't know but what you'd gone down for a chat with Eve Durand?"
The Colonel shook his head. "No - I'd had my chat with Eve. You see, I'd located her several days before the dinner party. After losing track of her for ten years, I came to San Francisco on a rumor she was here. My errand on the floor below was with Li Gung, as I said it was."
"And the next day you shipped him off to Honolulu?"
"I did, yes. At Eve's request. I'd arranged that two days before. She heard Sir Frederic was interested in him, and she was afraid something might happen to wreck my next expedition. The thing was unnecessary; Li Gung would never have told, but to set her mind at rest, I did as she asked."
Duff looked at him with open disapproval. "You knew that Durand had committed one murder. Yet you said nothing to the police. Was that playing the game, Colonel Beetham?"
Beetham shrugged. "Yes, I think it was. I'm sure of it. I did not dream that Durand had been in San Francisco the night of Sir Frederic's murder. Even if I had known he was here - well - you see -"
"I'm afraid I don't," snapped Duff.
"There is really no reason why I need explain to you," Beetham went on. "However, I will. Something happened on that long trek across Afghanistan and the Kevir Desert. Eve was so brave, so uncomplaining. I - I fell in love. For the first and last time. What she has done since - for me - damn it, man, I worship her. But I have never told her so - I do not know whether she cares for me or not. While Durand lived, he was my rival, in a way. If I had given him up - what would my motive have been? I couldn't have been quite sure myself. I did suggest that Eve tell her story, but I didn't press the point. I couldn't, you see. I had to leave the decision to her. When she escaped that night from Flannery's men, I helped her. If that was what she wanted, I was forced to agree. Yes, Inspector - I was playing the game, according to my lights."
Duff shrugged. "A nice sense of honor," he remarked. "However, I will go so far as to wish you luck."
"Thanks," returned Beetham. He took up his coat. "I may say that, no doubt from selfish motives, I was keen to have you get him. And Sergeant Chan here saw to it that I was not disappointed. Sergeant, my hearty congratulations. But I know your people - and I am not surprised."
Chan bowed. "For ever with me your words will remain, lasting and beautiful a
s flowers of jade."
"I will go along," said Beetham, and departed.
Duff took up Sir Frederic's briefcase. "Perhaps you would like to look at these records, Sergeant," he remarked.
Chan came to with a start. "Pardon my stupidity."
"I said - maybe you want to glance at Sir Frederic's records?"
Charlie shook his head. "Curiosity is all quenched, like fire in pouring rain. We have looked at last behind that curtain Sir Frederic pictured, and I am content. At the moment I was indulging in bitter thought. There is no boat to Honolulu until next Wednesday. Five terrible days."
Duff laughed. "Well, I've been through the records hastily," he went on. "Sir Frederic had talked with certain friends of that porter in London. But the man himself had died before the Yard heard about him, and the evidence of his associates was hazy - hardly the sort to stand up in the courts. It needed the corroboration of Eve Durand, and that was what Sir Frederic was determined to get at any cost."
"How did Sir Frederic know that Eve Durand was in San Francisco?" Barry Kirk inquired.
"He got that information from a letter written by Mrs. Tupper-Brock to an aunt in Shanghai. There is a copy of the letter here. In it Mrs. Tupper-Brock mentioned that Eve Durand was in this city, employed in the Kirk Building. All of which explains his eagerness to make his headquarters with you, Mr. Kirk. But he hadn't located her - he died without that satisfaction, poor chap. His choice was Miss Lila Barr. He didn't dare say anything to Mrs. Tupper-Brock, for fear Eve Durand would slip through his fingers again. On the night of the dinner he was setting a trap - the desk unlocked, the safe open. He rather hoped some one would creep in for a look around. That and the chance of identifying Jennie Jerome, or Marie Lantelme - on these things he placed his reliance."
"He would have won, if he had lived," Chan remarked.
"No doubt in it. In Peshawar he established to his own satisfaction the manner in which Eve had left India. When he found her he would have told her what he knew, and she would have related her story, just as she did here to-night. His long search for the murderer of Hilary Galt would have ended then and there. Poor Sir Frederic." Duff picked up his coat, and Kirk helped him. "I'll take the briefcase," the Inspector continued. "It will be useful at the Yard." He held out his hand. "Sergeant Chan, meeting you would alone have repaid me for my long journey. Come to London some day. I'll show you how we work over there."
Chan smiled. "You are too kind. But the postman on his holiday has walked until feet are aching. Free to remark that if he ever takes another vacation, same will be forced on him at point of plenty big gun."
"I don't wonder," replied Duff. "Mr. Kirk - a pleasure to know you, too. Good-by and good luck to you both."
Kirk let him out. When he returned, Charlie was standing at the window, staring down on the roofs of the city. He swung about. "Now I go and pack."
"But you've five days for that," Kirk protested.
Charlie shook his head. "The guest who lingers too long deteriorates like unused fish. You have been so good - more would make me uncomfortable. I remove my presence at once."
"Oh, no," Kirk cried. "Good old Paradise will serve dinner in a few minutes."
"Please," Chan said, "permit me the luxury of at last beginning to mean what I say."
He went into his bedroom and in a surprisingly brief time returned. "Luggage was pretty much ready," he explained. He glanced toward the window. "Bright moon shines to-night in Honolulu. I am thinking of those home nights - long ones with long talks, long sipping of tea, long sleep and long peaceful dreams." He went to the hall, where he had left his coat and hat. "I am wondering how to make words of the deep thanks I feel," he said, returning. "Faced with kindness such as yours -"
The door-bell rang, a sharp, insistent peal. Charlie stepped into the bedroom. Kirk opened the door, and Bill Rankin, the reporter, rushed in.
"Where's Charlie Chan?" he demanded breathlessly.
"He's gone into his room," Kirk answered. "He'll be out in a minute."
"I want to thank him," Rankin continued loudly. "He sure treated me like a prince. I beat the town. And I've news for him - a woman has just been murdered over in Oakland under the most peculiar circumstances. There are all sorts of bully clues - and since he can't leave until next week -"
Kirk laughed. "You tell him," he suggested.
They waited a moment, then Kirk went into the bedroom. He cried out in surprise. The room was empty. A door leading to the passageway stood open. He stepped through it, and discovered that the door at the top of the stairs leading to the offices was also ajar.
"Rankin," he called. "Come here, please."
Rankin came. "Why - where is he -"
Kirk preceded the reporter down-stairs. The offices were in darkness. In the middle room, Kirk switched on the light. After a hurried glance around, he pointed to the window that opened onto the fire-escape. It had been pushed up as far as it would go.
"The postman," Kirk remarked, "absolutely refuses to take another walk."
"Done an Eve Durand on us!" Rankin cried. "Well, I'll be dog-goned."
Kirk laughed. "It's all right," he said. "I'll know where to find him - next Wednesday noon."
Intent on verifying this prediction, Barry Kirk appeared in Miss Morrow's dusty office the following Wednesday morning at eleven. He had stopped at a florist's and bought an extravagant cluster of orchids. These he handed to the deputy district attorney.
"What's the idea?" she asked.
"Come on," he said. "The morning's as bright as a new gold piece, and down at the docks there's a ship about to set out for the loveliest fleet of islands in any ocean. The flowers are my bon voyage offering to you."
"But I'm not sailing," she protested.
"We'll pretend you are. You're going as far as the pier, anyhow. Get your hat."
"Of course." She got it, and they went down the dark stairs.
"Have you heard anything from Charlie Chan?" she asked.
"Not a word," Kirk told her. "Charlie isn't taking any chances. But we'll find him aboard the boat. I'd gamble all I've got on that."
They entered his car, and Kirk stepped on the gas. "What a morning," he remarked. "Cooped up in that dark office of yours, you've no idea the things that are going on outside. Lady - spring is here!"
"So it seems. By the way - you know that Colonel Beetham sailed last night for China?"
"Yes. What about Eve Durand?"
"She's starting to-morrow for England. Her uncle has cabled her to come and stop with him. The Colonel is to be in the Gobi Desert for a year, and then he's going to England too. It will be spring in Devonshire when he arrives. A very lovely spring, they seem to think."
Kirk nodded. "But a year away. Too bad - so long to wait. Enjoy the spring you've got. That would be my advice."
He steered his car onto the pier. Another sailing day - excitement and farewells. Tourists and traveling salesmen, bored stewards waiting patiently in line.
Miss Morrow and Kirk ran up the gang-plank onto the deck of the big white ship. "Just stand here by the rail, please," said Kirk. "With the orchids -"
"What in the world for?"
"I want to see how you'll look in the role. Back in a minute."
When he returned, Charlie Chan was walking lightly at his side. The detective's face was beaming with a satisfaction he could not conceal.
"Overwhelmed by your attention," he said to the girl.
"Where have you been?" she cried. "We've missed you terribly."
He grinned. "Hiding from temptation," he explained.
"But Captain Flannery has taken all the credit for your wonderful success. It isn't fair."
Chan shrugged. "From the first, I knew my work on this case was like bowing in the dark. Why should I care? May I add that you present charming picture of loveliness this morning?"
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