At its call the noise in the room died down.
“Hamby,” shouted Mr. Holtz, and Captain Hamby’s voice answered cheerily from the dark outside:
“It’s all right, Holtz. the beggar’s through.” And then Captain Hamby sauntered back deliberately through the open door as though he had just stepped out to get a breath of air.
“Smile,” Captain Hamby was humming, “smile, smile.”
“My friend,” said Mr. Holtz, “was that necessary? I told you I wanted none of that in here.”
Captain Hamby’s face wrinkled in his most exasperating smile.
“Just a peaceful merchant, aren’t you, Holtz?” he said. “You’re in this the same as everybody else. My word, the beggar was running like a rabbit. We couldn’t let him get away.”
“But he would not have got away,” said Mr. Holtz, and the flesh about his eyes had gathered into dangerous little wrinkles. “Did I not tell you this was to be done out beyond if it was necessary? An officer, a Japanese officer—it is dangerous.”
“To hell with the Japanese officers,” Captain Hamby said. “You heard what Shirov told us, didn’t you? This country will be Russian next week.”
“I am not sure,” said Mr. Holtz. “We cannot yet be sure.”
“My word,” said Captain Hamby, “you heard Shirov. We’ve done business with Shirov. We’re sure already.”
Then in the pause that followed, Mr. Moto spoke, and the contrast of his voice coming so suddenly after Captain Hamby’s unmusical speech made every word decisive.
“I am so sorry that you did that,” Mr. Moto said. “He was a very good officer. We had differences of political opinion, but he was very nice. I am so very, very sorry.”
“Sorry, are you?” Captain Hamby said. “You’d better be sorry for yourself.”
Mr. Moto looked at the Prince and at the Russian agent and then at Captain Hamby. His gold fillings glittered in a polite, intelligent smile.
“You mean I shall be liquidated also?” Mr. Moto said.
“Clever little beggar, aren’t you?” Captain Hamby said. “You let yourself in for it, didn’t you?”
Mr. Moto folded his hands on his lap.
“Perhaps,” he said, “and perhaps it is time to make myself clear. You will not liquidate me yet I think. I know so much of Mr. Holtz and so much of you all. I have such a very high opinion of General Shirov. You are all so very, very clever. I know so very well what you are thinking—that, when we are no longer useful, this young American gentleman and I will be eliminated. Do you mind if I explain myself?”
“It don’t matter,” said Captain Hamby. “We haven’t got the time.”
But Mr. Holtz interrupted.
“One little minute,” he said. “I want to hear what he says.”
“And so do I,” said General Shirov. “I want to understand.”
“Thank you, General Shirov,” said Mr. Moto, “so very, very much. I know you may be puzzled to see me here. My poor compatriot, the Major, was so very, very right. I wished that you would receive the cigarette case with the message it conveyed. I hoped so much that your brother would bring it to you, but there was so much opposition on the part of my own countrymen, so embarrassing to me. I am so afraid that your brother was alarmed when he saw me on the train. I hoped so much that he would bring it safely. I am so sorry for his accident. He was such a clever man.”
General Shirov looked at Mr. Moto distrustfully, as though there might be an infernal machine in Mr. Moto’s pocket.
“So you wanted me to get that message,” he said. “That is kind of you, but the reason is not clear.”
Mr. Moto smiled a golden, confidential smile. “Excuse me,” he said, “I know so well it sounds irregular. I am so afraid that you might suspect me. If I had not been afraid, I should have been in touch with you myself. You are such a very brilliant man, General Shirov, and we have known each other so long and so unhappily. I was afraid if I came here freely that you would draw away and I wanted so very much to see you face to face. So much simpler for us both. I did not wish you to be alarmed, General Shirov. That is why I arranged for Captain Hamby to capture me. It seemed the only way that we might meet face to face—so very naturally.”
The Russian had a peculiar and intent expression. Mr. Moto might have been a page of very fine print that he was trying to read.
“You wished to see me,” he said. “Why did you wish to see me?”
Mr. Moto’s expression had grown serious.
“Please,” he said. “I wish that matters might settle themselves in a happier way, but I am so very much afraid that one of us will not leave this place. We understand such affairs so very, very well. You are here for information and so am I. It is your desire to find out what action my country will take toward China. I could tell you now, but you would not believe. That is why I have arranged for you to receive a message from your own sources. I have arranged it against the advice and wishes of so very many people.”
“Yes,” said General Shirov, “and what do you desire?”
Mr. Moto sighed.
“My desire is so very, very simple,” Mr. Moto said. “There have been so many debates about it. Will Russia intervene if we move farther into China? We have tested the situation at the Amur River, but we are still not sure. If ever your great country will act, it will do so when you receive this message. It will be like a train of powder set alight. You and I know the situation so very, very well. We have our own intelligence in Moscow. If your country will strike, it will do so now, without an ultimatum or a declaration. Such formalities are so very, very silly. The decision must be already made I think. Your army will advance immediately to take up positions at Ghuru Nor. If it does so, we may know that we may expect an intervention. I wish to see if it does so, and I have done more than that.”
Mr. Moto paused and rubbed his hands, but Shirov did not answer.
“Yes,” said Mr. Moto. “I have done more than that. I have incurred the enmity of many important persons. I am risking my own honor. I have allowed myself to be taken with military secrets in my possession. You have already read the orders on the table? There is not a Japanese unit within two hundred miles of Ghuru Nor. You have your chance this evening—one which will not come again—and I have given you this chance. It is so important to see whether your country takes action that I have seen fit to precipitate the opportunity. This, please, is my own responsibility. I wonder what will happen when you see the message? I will tell you what it will say.”
Mr. Moto paused again and glanced about the room. Captain Hamby was frowning and the Prince sat motionless and Mr. Holtz had craned his thick neck forward. The peaceful look had left the Russian’s eyes.
“Yes,” said Mr. Moto, “I will tell you. The day after tomorrow there will be a series of incidents outside of Peiping which will lead to demands on five Chinese provinces. If your country intervenes, I think it will be now or never.” Mr. Moto rubbed his hands together.
“I think we will find out tonight. The Prince will be so interested and so will Mr. Holtz. I know so much of Mr. Holtz.”
Mr. Moto turned toward the fat man and smiled.
“Mr. Holtz has worked so hard for Russia, but he has so very many commercial interests that he must consider other matters. He has a wireless with a short-wave sending-set in the next room of this house.”
Mr. Holtz gave a startled grunt and Mr. Moto smiled again.
“Do not let it alarm you, please,” Mr. Moto said. “Our intelligence is very good. Mr. Holtz will send a message and will get an answer in a very little while, and General Shirov may listen. Mr. Holtz will tell us whether there will be a movement toward Ghuru Nor. He will want so much to know in order to decide what he must do in order to help himself. We shall all be so interested. You will be able to get the answer I think, Mr. Holtz.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Holtz, “since you know so much. They will send orders here at once if they start to move. It is—arranged.”
; “I thought so,” Mr. Moto answered. “It is so very, very nice. We shall know the news so soon, and the Prince will be so relieved and Mr. Holtz will be so relieved. They will both know which side to take. And then—if definite action is taken I shall be so very happy to kill myself. On the other hand it will be so very different. If there is no move I am so afraid that General Shirov must kill himself. Yes, I think that we shall liquidate the situation. It is my own idea.”
Mr. Moto glanced brightly about the room.
“It is so very nice that everything is so well arranged,” he said. “Do not look so anxious, Mr. Gates. Personally, I do not think that Russia is going to move. I hope so much for your sake, Mr. Gates. I hope so much I have made myself clear. Thank you so much for allowing me to speak.”
Captain Hamby swayed backwards on his heels.
“While you’ve a lucifer to light your fag,” he hummed, and no one interrupted him. “Clever beggar aren’t you, Mr. Moto? So darned bright.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Moto, “so very, very much.”
There was no doubt that Mr. Moto had made himself clear to everyone. Whether the rest of them believed or not, Calvin Gates believed him. He had seen enough and heard enough so that there could be no mistake, and now everything that Mr. Moto had said or done was intelligible. He had accomplished everything which he had set out to do, and now he sat with his hands folded in his lap.
“Perhaps,” Mr. Moto said, “Mr. Holtz will open communications upon the wireless. There should be a message soon.”
“My word,” said Captain Hamby, “this is jolly good. Get the buzzer going, Holtz.”
Without answering, Mr. Holtz walked to the far end of the room and opened the door and Calvin Gates had a glimpse of a table covered with electrical apparatus.
“Well,” said Mr. Holtz, “everything is ready.”
The Russian stood up and there was a note in his voice that had not been there before. Calvin felt the floor unsteady beneath him because he knew what was coming.
“Hamby,” said Shirov, “hand me that cigarette case, please. It will tell if this is true.”
“One minute.” The Prince spoke softly. “What price will you pay me?”
The serious, intent expression left the Russian’s face and changed into a thin, cool smile.
“We will discuss that later,” he said. “Mr. Moto’s presence makes bargaining unnecessary. The corn between the millstones should not ask for money, Excellency. Give me that cigarette case. Give it to me quickly.”
“My word,” said Captain Hamby, “that’s no way to talk.”
“You will be paid when this is over,” said General Shirov. “The cigarette case please. We must see if this is true first.”
“Now,” said Captain Hamby, “that’s no way to talk. Here it is, look at it for yourself.”
He whipped a cigarette case from his inside pocket and handed it to General Shirov. The Russian snatched it out of Hamby’s hand and stared hard at the cover. He did not speak immediately, but anyone who watched him could have told that something was wrong.
“My word,” said Captain Hamby, “what’s the matter?”
“What does this mean?” The Russian’s voice was thick. “This is not the case.”
“Not the case?” said Mr. Moto, and his face went chalky white.
The Prince was out of his chair. He had turned from a motionless Chinese portrait into a figure of the god of war. He shouted something in his own language and Hamby answered back.
“This is too much,” General Shirov shouted.
“Wait a minute,” said Captain Hamby, “wait,” and he ran to the door.
“I think,” said Mr. Moto, “that he has gone to get the young lady, and I do not think she has it. I think it is in this room.”
“Where in this room?” Shirov asked.
“Please,” said Mr. Moto, “do not excite yourself. I am as anxious as you, believe me.” He glanced soberly at Calvin Gates. “I think the young gentleman there has it. So sorry, Mr. Gates.”
21
THE PRINCE stared hard at Calvin Gates and barked out an order. It was the moment for which Calvin Gates had been waiting, but now that it had come he did not feel wholly adequate to meet it. The men with whom he had to contend were as desperate as he was and, compared with their experience, his was like a child’s. He had never seen Mr. Moto so profoundly agitated. The Prince and the Russian agent were both so stirred that they could not conceal their feelings. Surprise, indignation and distrust sounded in their words and swept across their faces.
“It is not him,” he heard Mr. Holtz call behind him. “It is that Hamby, he has got it.”
One of the Prince’s men grasped Calvin’s shoulder.
“Take your hands off me,” said Calvin Gates, and he felt more sure of himself now that he was speaking. “I haven’t got that cigarette case, but I know where it is.”
His announcement had a quieting effect and the quiet was reassuring. He stood there in the center of that drama, momentarily master of the situation, and he knew that he must make the most of it. But he paused before he spoke again, careful not to hurry, watching the faces in front of him.
“Ah,” said General Shirov, “so you know where it is.” The Prince walked forward with a quick stamp of his heavy boots and stopped in front of him—a fantastic figure in his peaked cap, his blue gown and his pigtail.
“You will tell us,” the Prince said in his high, slow voice, “at once.”
The narrow, dark eyes of the Prince were ugly, but with an effort Calvin Gates grinned back at him.
“Well,” he asked, “how much will you give me, Prince?”
“One moment,” Mr. Moto spoke quickly. “If I may say a word to Mr. Gates, please. It will do no good to force him I am afraid. He is such a stubborn man, but he will be reasonable when I explain. It is not a time to be difficult, Mr. Gates. You must understand that we are in danger. The Prince is so very angry, and General Shirov is so very angry. It may appear a small matter, but I assure you the cigarette case is vitally important please. Its loss delays everything. Until General Shirov sees it, how can he believe what I have told him? How can the Prince understand his situation? No doubt you think you are gaining something by this delay, but excuse me you are not. If we do not find this article promptly, I am so afraid it will be so very unfortunate for you. I am sure you will be reasonable, Mr. Gates.”
There was no mistaking Mr. Moto’s deep anxiety.
“I assure you, Mr. Gates,” Mr. Moto added, “that there is nothing subtle in what I say.”
The whole situation was ironical, but he had learned a good deal from Mr. Moto’s subtlety. For once he was able to match his own wits against Mr. Moto’s, and to speak in the same polished phrases.
“There is only one trouble,” he said. “It is that our points of view are different, Mr. Moto. I do not care about the Russo-Japanese situation. The only thing I care about is personal freedom and my neck.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Moto gently, “that is so very logical, Mr. Gates, but please, if you are stubborn, you will be made to tell and that will not be very nice. Here is Miss Dillaway I think. I am so sure that she will agree with me.”
The door of the bungalow had opened and Captain Hamby, with a firm grasp on Miss Dillaway’s arm, was pushing her into the room.
“There’s no use arguing,” he was saying. “You don’t want to see Gates killed, do you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Miss Dillaway said. She looked very small and lonely, but if she was afraid she did not show it. Her answer was brisk and uncompromising. Her head was defiantly erect.
“Now,” said Captain Hamby and he gave her a gentle shake, “that’s no way to talk.”
Although it was not the time or place for like or dislike, Calvin Gates did not like Captain Hamby’s manner. Something had broken down the restraint he had put upon himself, and there may have been some unconsidered reason for his action. He may have r
ealized that he was safe for the moment. He was beside them before he knew what he was doing, and before caution or judgment came into play he had his hands on Captain Hamby and Captain Hamby dropped her arm.
“Here,” said Captain Hamby, “here.” And Captain Hamby stepped backward and put his hand in his pocket.
“I wouldn’t try that,” said Calvin Gates. “I know where the cigarette case is, Hamby.” And Mr. Holtz had stepped down between them before he had finished speaking. He thought that they would seize him, but no one in the room moved.
“You can leave Miss Dillaway alone,” Calvin said. “You all want to know where the cigarette case is, don’t you? Well, I’ll tell you where it is. Miss Dillaway gave Captain Hamby her own cigarette case, and she gave the other one to me, back there in the shed where you locked us up. Do you want to know what I did when I got it? Would that interest you, Mr. Moto? Would you be interested, Mr. Shirov?”
Calvin walked back to the center of the room. Everyone was giving him full attention although he could not tell even then whether his plan was good or bad.
“I looked at the design very carefully. There were some little birds and grasses. I remember every detail of that design and I can describe it accurately. If you give me a pencil and a paper I can draw it. I wonder if you get my point. Do you understand me, General Shirov?”
The Russian did not answer immediately, but Mr. Moto’s mind was quicker.
“Mr. Gates,” Mr. Moto said, “you are a very clever man, so very, very clever. You have of course destroyed the cigarette case.”
“Exactly,” said Calvin Gates. “It’s out there in the shed very badly crushed. You won’t be able to put it together I’m afraid, but I have it in my mind. Would you like me to draw it for you? I shall do it right away if we come to an agreement. I shall have to take your word and General Shirov’s that one of you will see Miss Dillaway, Dr. Gilbreth, and me safely out of here, and that you will promise not to interfere with us further.”
The proposal was received in absolute silence, a silence that was broken by a short, ugly laugh from Captain Hamby.
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