He spoke with such ardour that Julian suddenly felt that he might have been wrong in believing the couple to be in the pay of Hayashi, and that while their attention had been distracted from the van the casket had been swapped without their knowledge.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘You stay here and in no circumstances let anyone take it from you before I come back. I’m going upstairs to see how things are going there.’
As Julian was still not prepared to trust the Paos, he went over to the porter and gave him a good tip to see that the basket he had helped bring in was not moved; then he had himself shown to the wash place. The cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding and on feeling his shoulder gingerly he decided that it was only very badly bruised. After cleaning himself up as well as he could, he took off his socks and shoes, put his socks on again and, carrying the shoes out to the hall, put them down beside a number of other pairs belonging to people who were dining upstairs. The porter then summoned one of the ‘Mesdames’ whose duty it was to chaperone the geishas and go in and out of the rooms to see that no improprieties took place during dinners. Having kowtowed to him she took him upstairs, slid back a door in the wall and signed to him to enter.
It was one of the smaller rooms and furnished somewhat differently from the usual Japanese restaurant, as a concession to the richer Westerners who could afford to pay for a proper geisha dinner. Instead of having to sit cross-legged or sideways at the table, those dining could sit on the floor with a backrest for support and could stretch their legs out at full length under it.
Hayashi and Urata, both dressed in the type of short black European coat that goes with striped trousers, were seated opposite one another, with a pretty young geisha kneeling beside each of them. They had evidently finished their dinner, as the geishas were entertaining them with childish games. At the moment all four were in turn passing round a saki vase and letting trickle from it a drop or two into an already nearly full saki cup, the game being to see who could do so last without the cup overflowing.
When Julian appeared they all stood up. Urata bowed and said, ‘Mr. Day, I am much regretting that you were detained. Please to meet Mr. Hayashi.’
It was twenty-five years since the two men had been face to face, so Julian had very little fear that the Japanese would recognise him as Hugo Julian du Crow Fernhurst; nevertheless, when they had exchanged deep bows he took his eyes quickly from Hayashi’s shrewd ones and said to Urata:
‘I owe you both a sincere apology; but a private matter suddenly cropped up that had to be attended to, and I could not possibly get here earlier. I see you have finished dinner; so you must not bother about me. I can easily get some supper later at the Miyako. When I arrived here I saw the Paos in the hall, with the Kuan-yin. As you have finished dinner, shall we have it up and get down to business?’
The Madame said something to Urata in Japanese, and he said to Julian, ‘Four special girls I have booked to sing, also do ritual dance with fan for us.’ Then he looked questioningly at Hayashi.
At that moment Hayashi was not thinking about geishas; he was wondering how Julian had managed to slip through Nagi’s fingers. Rinzai had telephoned before Hayashi left his house to say that the Englishman had, without prompting, thought of attempting to rescue the girl. But perhaps when he had arrived outside the house he had got cold feet and decided not to risk going in after all. Yet he had a slight cut on his cheek, his collar was badly crumpled and he had a button off his coat, all of which suggested that he had been in a fight. Perhaps, though, he had got as far as climbing in over the wall then, after prowling round for a while, lacked the courage to break into the house so climbed out again; such activities would be enough to account for the mark on his cheek and his slightly dishevelled appearance.
However, what had happened to Julian during the past hour was of no special importance to Hayashi, because half-way through dinner a note had been brought up to him which said that the vans had been switched successfully and that the Paos, suspecting nothing, were then on their way to the Phoenix with the one that had been substituted for theirs. Had Julian been within sight of the vans when the exchange was carried out it was certain that he would have interfered; but no mention of him had been made in the note. Obviously he must have been somewhere else at the time and knew nothing about the switch; so Hayashi felt that he had nothing to worry about.
As he had not yet signified whether he wished to see the dancers before inspecting the Kuan-yin, Urata repeated to him what Julian had said. Now, he was anxious to have done with them both; so that he could get home and make Tilly Sang squeal by prodding her with a knitting needle thrust through the wickerwork of the basket in which she had concealed herself. So he smiled, shrugged and said:
‘Without disparaging the excellent entertainment provided by my honourable host, such creatures do not particularly amuse me. By all means let us delay no longer delighting our eyes with this beautiful representation of the Queen of Heaven.’
With a nod Julian left the room, went downstairs and had the porters carry up the big creaking basket. By the time he got back the Madame and the two young geishas had disappeared. The basket was set down at the end of the low table. Pao and his wife took up positions at either end of it, the porters left the room and Julian, having slid to the door behind them, remained standing near it. With pleasurable anticipation he was watching Hayashi’s face to see how he would react when, instead of the pile of bricks he expected the basket to contain, he found that, after all, it held the beautiful Kuan-yin.
Pao and his wife undid the ties of the basket. Having eased the lid, they looked at one another; then in a loud voice Pao Tin-yum cried in Chinese, ‘Are you ready?’ and, after a long moment’s pause, ‘Now!’
On that, they both wrenched up the lid and threw it back. Everything then happened very quickly. Like a Jack-in-the-Box the head and shoulders of a woman emerged. Julian was a few feet behind her. He saw only that she had a mass of black hair, and he did not see her jerk up a hand holding a pistol. Next second a shot rang out. Hayashi, his mouth half open, went over backwards. But only for a moment. He had been sitting at the table cross-legged but, with the dexterity of an old Judo expert, he came up in the same position, and he had whipped a small automatic out of his pocket. Flame and noise spat from it. The woman in the basket gave a violent jerk. The black wig she was wearing fell off and Julian saw then that she was Tilly Sang. With a moan she flopped back into the basket.
Urata and Hayashi were now both on their feet. The former’s face showed amazement and horror; the latter’s fiendish delight. With loud wails the Paos were about to bend over the basket and attempt to aid their mistress; but Hayashi had taken a pace away from the table and, threatening them with his pistol, he hissed:
‘Back! Get back both of you. Right back.’
Cowed by his expression, they did as he had ordered. Then he looked at the others and went on quickly, ‘The shots. People come. I was showing you my pistol. An accident. You understand. Say otherwise and I will shoot you also.’
He had hardly finished speaking when the door was thrust back and the Madame appeared in it. A moment later she was joined by the porter. They looked round anxiously; but Hayashi smiled at them, toyed with his weapon casually and spoke to them in Japanese. It was clear to Julian that he was telling his story and indicating that no-one in the room had been hurt. Satisfied that no violence was in progress, the Madame and the porter withdrew. Hayashi then looked across at Urata and said:
‘Honourable acquaintance, I condole with you that you should have been drawn into this plot to kill me, for your innocence is transparent. You need feel no compassion for the woman. She was already five times a murderess, and her two servants run a brothel for her in Hong Kong. But respected persons like you and I cannot afford to be mixed up in unsavoury scandals, and Mr. Day,’ he bowed slightly to Julian, ‘will also doubtless see the wisdom of keeping his mouth shut.’ After a swift glance down into the basket, he went on, ‘The wo
man is either dead or dying. The coffin she has made for herself is thickly lined, so her blood will not trickle through to betray us. I intend to have her removed in it to my house. There I will take steps to dispose of her body.’
Turning his sharp glance on the Paos, he added:
‘You two will accompany the basket to my house. You run an illegal establishment in Hong Kong. Upon your obeying me depends whether I allow you to return there as free persons or whether you go under escort to be handed over to the Hong Kong police. But I do not propose to trust you with the basket. So I am about to telephone my people to come here and escort you back to my house with it.’
Walking forward, he waved his little gun at Julian and said, ‘Stand aside from the door please, Mr. Day; I wish to pass through it.’
‘No!’ snapped Julian. ‘I’m not going to let you get away with this. I mean to send for the police.’
‘You are being very foolish, Mr. Day, because it would involve us all in a great deal of trouble. Please to stand aside. Otherwise there will be another accident. This time a real one. You will force me to disclose this plot of Mrs. Sang’s. I shot her, you attacked me; so I was compelled to fire at you in self-defence and, most unfortunately, the bullet went through your heart.’
‘No!’ Julian repeated firmly. ‘I mean to have the police make a full enquiry. If you want to know why, it’s because you are holding Merri Sang a prisoner and they will find her in your house.’
Hayashi shrugged. ‘I see; and you are in love with her. I had temporarily forgotten that. Very well. She has served her purpose. I have no further use for her. If you will assist me to draw a veil over this affair of Mrs. Sang I will return the girl to you.’
‘No,’ said Julian for the third time. ‘That is not enough. I want you dead, or your dope racket broken up and you doing another long stretch in prison for that and for having kidnapped Merri. I’ve left a letter at my hotel that is to be given to the police at eleven o’clock should I fail to return. If you kill me they will know that it was no accident and you will be executed for it. I don’t value my life, so I’m willing to give it in order to get you.’
Giving him a puzzled look, Hayashi said, ‘The girl has come to no harm, Mr. Day, and I have ample proof that her mother was a murderess; so I do not understand this intense bitterness you show towards me.’
A grim smile twitched Julian’s lips. ‘You wouldn’t; because you failed to recognise me. My real name is Fernhurst. It was you, O’Kieff and the rest of your devilish gang who ruined my career years ago in Brussels, and caused my friend Carruthers to commit suicide. That’s why I am determined to make you pay.’
Hayashi’s cruel mouth fell open. At that moment Julian sprang. His right arm was almost useless, but with his left hand he grasped Hayashi’s hand that held the gun, forcing it upwards. For half a minute they swayed backwards and forwards in a violent struggle for the weapon. It went off and a bullet smacked into the ceiling. The crack of the pistol was followed almost instantly by two more shots. Hayashi had advanced far enough towards the door for the wicker basket to be behind him. With her last reserve of strength, Tilly Sang had risen up in it again and put two shots through his back. With a long loud groan he sank to the floor dead.
The Madame and the porter arrived on the scene again, followed by the proprietor of the establishment. The police were sent for and depositions taken. Forty minutes later the whole party piled into cars and drove to Hayashi’s house. The place was a shambles. Many of the fine statues had been thrown down, the priceless vases smashed and the beautiful paintings in silk ripped to pieces. Nagi, it transpired, had earlier been sent to hospital with a nasty wound that would keep him there for some weeks. The male staff of the household had all been badly beaten up. The head ‘boy’, his face sadly battered, told the police that soon after nine o’clock a band of hooligans had broken in and wrecked the place.
Julian and Urata searched the house from attic to cellar, and all the outhouses, for Merri; but no trace of her could be found. At half past eleven Julian returned to the Miyako. Any satisfaction he felt at Hayashi’s death was more than discounted by the fact that Merri was still missing and there was now no clue to her whereabouts. But when he got to his room the telephone was ringing. Picking up the receiver, he heard Urata’s voice:
‘Mr. Day, I have good news for you. I am most angry with Bill, but my heart finds it impossible not to forgive. He is desperate for this Merri. Knowing that Hayashi would be taking the dinner with us tonight he came back from Osaka. Here he collect many old school friends. They have many drinks, then with him they invade house. They not find Merri there, but with woman who guard her in small pavilion on lake. She iss now very happy and safe here with us.’
‘Thanks. Please give her my love,’ Julian replied tonelessly, and replaced the receiver.
So Bill had beaten him to it, and Merri had all the time been in that little pavilion at the end of the lake, near which he had stood for close on five minutes mistakenly fearful that a stone lantern was a night watchman. Had he only known during those minutes, he could have gone in and got her. But fate had been unkind to him.
As he turned away from the telephone he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the dressing table. He saw a face that looked every day of fifty. The strain of the past fortnight had aged him a lot. The hair at his temples that had been grey was now white, and his face was deeply lined. What, he wondered sadly, had he really got to offer Merri, except a certain amount of money and a knowledge of the world that could not really weigh very much against other assets that a girl not yet twenty would consider far more desirable?
Next day he lunched at the Uratas’ house. After the meal he went out with Merri alone into the garden. She could not have been sweeter as she laid her hand on his, and said softly:
‘I do hope you won’t feel too badly about things, Julian. It’s not that it was Bill who actually got me out of that awful man’s clutches. I’ve been told all you did and I’m terribly grateful. But while I was a prisoner I had a lot of time to think, and I knew then that it was Bill that I loved. Mr. Urata is being terribly kind, and now poor Mother is dead there is no longer a bar to my marrying a Japanese.’
Julian nodded. ‘I understand, and I hope you and Bill will be tremendously happy.’
‘We will,’ she replied confidently. ‘But I’m worried about you. Couldn’t you possibly bring yourself to go back to England and take up your inheritance? You’ve paid for your youthful folly a thousand times over, and I’m sure that even those few people who haven’t forgotten about that will now be ready to accept your word that you were not really to blame.’
He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps you’re right, Merri. Anyhow, I’ll think it over.’
1 See The Quest of Julian Day.
2 See The Sword of Fate.
A Note on the Author
DENNIS WHEATLEY
Dennis Wheatley (1897 – 1977) was an English author whose prolific output of stylish thrillers and occult novels made him one of the world's best-selling writers from the 1930s through the 1960s.
Wheatley was the eldest of three children, and his parents were the owners of Wheatley & Son of Mayfair, a wine business. He admitted to little aptitude for schooling, and was expelled from Dulwich College, London. In 1919 he assumed management of the family wine business but in 1931, after a decline in business due to the depression, he began writing.
His first book, The Forbidden Territory, became a bestseller overnight, and since then his books have sold over 50 million copies worldwide. During the 1960s, his publishers sold one million copies of Wheatley titles per year, and his Gregory Sallust series was one of the main inspirations for Ian Fleming’s James Bond stories.
During the Second World War, Wheatley was a member of the London Controlling Section, which secretly coordinated strategic military deception and cover plans. His literary talents gained him employment with planning staffs for the War Office. He wrote numerous papers for the
War Office, including suggestions for dealing with a German invasion of Britain.
Dennis Wheatley died on 11th November 1977. During his life he wrote over 70 books and sold over 50 million copies.
Discover books by Dennis Wheatley published by Bloomsbury Reader at
www.bloomsbury.com/DennisWheatley
Duke de Richleau
The Forbidden Territory
The Devil Rides Out
The Golden Spaniard
Three Inquisitive People
Strange Conflict
Codeword Golden Fleece
The Second Seal
The Prisoner in the Mask
Vendetta in Spain
Dangerous Inheritance
Gateway to Hell
Gregory Sallust
Black August
Contraband
The Scarlet Impostor
Faked Passports
The Black Baroness
V for Vengeance
Come into My Parlour
The Island Where Time Stands Still
Traitors’ Gate
They Used Dark Forces
The White Witch of the South Seas
Julian Day
The Quest of Julian Day
The Sword of Fate
Bill for the Use of a Body
Roger Brook
The Launching of Roger Brook
The Shadow of Tyburn Tree
The Rising Storm
The Man Who Killed the King
The Dark Secret of Josephine
The Rape of Venice
The Sultan’s Daughter
The Wanton Princess
Evil in a Mask
The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware
The Irish Witch
Desperate Measures
Molly Fountain
To the Devil a Daughter
The Satanist
Lost World
They Found Atlantis
Uncharted Seas
The Man Who Missed the War
Espionage
Bill for the Use of a Body Page 21