Still arm and arm, they continued past the warehouses to a group of neat white buildings at the far corner of the compound, the door of one of which Captain Hamby pushed open. It was an office brightly lighted by a gasoline lantern, evidently where the business of Mr. Holtz was transacted. It was strange after the sights outside to be in a room with ledgers and tables and adding machines, and Captain Hamby must have understood Calvin’s surprise.
“Holtz’s office,” he said. “It takes a bit of figuring to run this show.” The hard light made the Captain’s face jovially harsh. “Well,” he said, “go on and talk. Now what’s the game, Gates?”
Captain Hamby grew brisk and businesslike and everything about him was genial except the cool glow in his eye. He stood with his hands on his hips, his feet wide apart.
Calvin Gates looked back at him and answered promptly.
“He brought me up here,” he admitted, “but I’ve come here because I want to. I’ve come here to make you a proposition, Hamby.”
Captain Hamby’s eyes narrowed, but he still looked friendly.
“That’s fine,” he answered cordially. “So you thought over what I said on the train? Well, what’s your proposition?”
It had seemed simple when he had thought of it, but now he was not so sure.
“A while ago,” said Calvin Gates, “you offered me money to tell you what Mr. Moto wanted. I didn’t know then, Hamby, but I know now. Is your proposition still open?”
Captain Hamby rubbed his hand softly on his coat.
“So you’re tired of playing with the Japanese?” Captain Hamby said. “You figure there’s more for you in it this way? Is that the picture, Gates?”
“That’s the picture,” Calvin answered. “I am going to get what I want out of this, Hamby, and you can give it to me and Mr. Moto can’t.”
It sounded brutally frank as he said it and it showed him how greatly he had changed. All his old compunctions had left him. Mr. Moto had used him and now he was using Mr. Moto. For the first time in his life he was changing circumstances to fit his own desires.
“My word,” said Captain Hamby, “that’s the sort of talk I like. What is it you want of me, Gates?”
“Nothing that ought to trouble you,” Calvin said. “I want you to take me to Dr. Gilbreth. I’ve come a long way to see him. And I want you to promise that Miss Dillaway is put into Dr. Gilbreth’s care. And I want you to arrange that I stay safe with you until this trouble’s over. China and Japan won’t be healthy for me after this. I’m coming over to your side, Hamby.”
“Oh,” said Captain Hamby, “I thought you didn’t trust me, Gates.”
“I don’t,” said Calvin, “about most things. But I see no reason why you shouldn’t do this, because it isn’t going to help you not to do it, and it isn’t going to cause you trouble. There isn’t any other place for me to go. Maybe I’ll be useful to you, Hamby.”
Captain Hamby nodded thoughtfully.
“You wouldn’t lie to me, Gates?” he asked. “My word, if you’re lying, you won’t live.”
Calvin shrugged his shoulders.
“I wouldn’t be here if I were lying,” he said, “and you know it.”
Captain Hamby smiled brightly.
“You must want to see this Dr. Gilbreth a hell of a lot,” he remarked. “What’s the idea, Gates?”
“That’s my business,” Calvin answered.
Captain Hamby chuckled softly; he did not appear to be offended.
“Well, well,” he said. “Don’t be so touchy, Gates. You’re talking the way I like a man to talk. Right in my own language. You tell me what Moto wants, and I’ll know if it’s the truth or not, no fear. And if it is the truth—” Captain Hamby grinned and held out his hand. “I’ll do what you want, word of honor, Gates. You’ll see Gilbreth, and Miss Dillaway will be put in Gilbreth’s care, and you’ll come up along with me, and everything is fine. I know how to keep a promise, Gates, no fear. Now what does Moto want? Shake hands.”
Their hands met and Captain Hamby’s grasp was firm and hard.
“No fear, Gates,” Captain Hamby said.
“All right,” said Calvin Gates, “I’m going to trust you, Hamby. Mr. Moto’s after you.”
Captain Hamby rubbed the palms of his hands carefully on the sides of his coat.
“Is that a fact?” he said.
“He wants to get you to the China Hotel,” Calvin said. “He wanted me to make it clear to you that he’s alone there, but I don’t believe it. He’s after something, Hamby. He’s able to run the whole Japanese army if he wants. I’ve seen him give orders to a general.”
Captain Hamby swung back and forth on his heels. “Smile,” he hummed, “smile, smile.” And Calvin felt his eyes move over him, examining his clothes and hands and feet.
“I don’t want to be a party to a murder,” Calvin said. “Moto’s strong on liquidation, Hamby.”
Captain Hamby teetered from his toes to his heels and back.
“Damned considerate of you,” Captain Hamby said. “My word, I’d never thought of that. Are you telling me he’s out from Tokyo and that he’s giving orders to the army? My word, I’ve seen him do that once before. Has he got papers on him? Tell me what you saw, Gates.”
Calvin told him while Captain Hamby teetered on his heels and listened.
“My word,” said Captain Hamby, “he’s got full powers, has he?” He stopped and began humming his favorite tune. “What’s the use of worrying,” Captain Hamby hummed, “it never was worth while … My word, you’re selling out too cheap. You’re either a fool or a damned liar, Gates.”
“You can take your choice,” Calvin answered.
“I will,” said Captain Hamby. “You’ll get what you want if it’s true. Just step along with me now. Just keep smiling.” Captain Hamby linked his arm through Calvin’s. “Don’t get jumpy, Gates.”
“Well,” said Calvin, “where are we going?”
“My word,” said Captain Hamby, “no need to be so curious. You’ve been so deuced interesting that I want you to meet more company. Mr. Holtz and the Prince are over yonder. What you have said may change things quite a bit. Now don’t get jumpy, Gates.”
“What Prince?” asked Calvin Gates.
They were walking toward a brightly lighted building not far from the one they had left and Captain Hamby’s hand tightened on Calvin’s arm.
“No end obliged to you,” he said, “for telling me all this. Puts a fascinating new complexion on matters. What Prince? My dear esteemed patron, Prince Wu of Ghuru Nor. He just came in last night to meet me. You saw some of his laddies by the gate eating mutton. Jolly sort of fellow, the Prince, the sharpest trader I ever knew. Steady’s the word for it. Take things as they come and smile.”
“Where’s Miss Dillaway?” asked Calvin Gates.
“She’s all right,” said Captain Hamby, “right as rain. Don’t get jumpy, Gates.”
CHAPTER XVII
Someone in front of the doorway called out sharply, and when the Captain answered a Mongol carrying a rifle stepped out from the shadows.
“The Prince’s guard,” said Captain Hamby, “one of my boys. Never seen better soldiers. Well, here’s Holtzy’s house. Does himself rather well. No need of knocking, not a bit of need.”
The house was one of those uncompromising, English bungalows, the architectural qualities of which do not vary much, no matter in what part of the world one finds them. Captain Hamby led him into a broad living room furnished with a number of comfortable chairs. He had a glimpse of a table covered with magazines, and of a wall covered with photographs. The room and its furnishings, all so familiar and commonplace, made the people in it the more remarkable. Seated in an oak mission chair, beside a table with a lamp upon it, was a middle-aged man whose whole appearance marked him as an exalted person. His hair was done up tight in a grayish black queue. His cheekbones were high and his dark brown eyes were so narrow that they seemed to be creased in a smile when he was not smili
ng. His cheeks were gaunt and sunken and a long thin, grayish moustache curled delicately past the corners of a proud, thin mouth. There was no doubt that Calvin was looking at the Prince of Ghuru Nor. He was in a gown of turquoise blue, and the pointed toes of his high boots curved upward. He sat erect with a hand resting on each knee, like an ancestral portrait from the Manchu dynasty. Behind his chair were two Mongols, each leaning on a rifle, and a third, a thin pock-marked young man, crouched on his heels at the Prince’s right. Mr. Holtz, still in his shirt sleeves, was seated near by drinking a glass of beer, and at the other end of the room four or five more of the Prince’s retinue were standing: shiny-faced, glossy-haired young men, leaning on their rifles; but these were not all.
A man in white, seated in a chair near the Prince, had turned to look when the door had opened, and Calvin Gates remembered his face. It was Major Ahara with the saber scars upon his cheek. Major Ahara’s heavy mouth had fallen open, and he was starting to rise from his chair.
“Sit down, Major,” Captain Hamby said. “Surprised to see this gentleman, aren’t you? Your Excellency—this is the American of whom I told you.”
The Prince’s eyes moved toward Calvin Gates and he nodded.
“I speak English,” he said very slowly. “It is all we here can speak together. You go to join Dr. Gilbreth—he did not speak of you.”
The slow voice stopped, but not long enough to allow Calvin to answer.
“What is it you want?” the Prince said to Captain Hamby. “We have been waiting.”
“Your Highness.” The Captain spoke both respectfully and familiarly, like a trusted advisor. “The matter of the cigarette case, Your Highness—it is my advice not to sell it yet.”
Major Ahara was leaning forward in his chair listening.
“This Japanese officer has made us a generous offer for it,” the Captain went on, “but a situation has arisen. This American has come from Mr. Moto. We must be careful, Your Highness. Mr. Moto is above the army.”
The blank expression of the Prince showed plainly that his command of English was not good. He did not understand, but the Japanese major understood, and something in the careful speech caused him to jump to his feet.
“That is not so,” the Major cried. “Moto has nothing to do with this, nothing to do with the army!”
Captain Hamby turned on him quickly and spoke in his loud, unmusical voice.
“Sit down,” he said. “You Japanese are all alike, always so damn clever. You came here to buy that cigarette case. You flew here from Peiping. We didn’t ask you here. Sit down and keep still.”
Captain Hamby turned towards Mr. Holtz, who had set his glass of beer upon the floor, and jerked his thumb toward Calvin Gates.
“Holtz, you’ve got sense,” Captain Hamby said. “This man, Gates, Moto sent him. Moto—the one who was here before—and he’s in the China Hotel. Well, I’m going out to find him. Moto’s been sent direct from Tokyo to give the order to the army. My word he has—and we can’t let this go.”
Mr. Holtz pursed his lips.
“These Japanese,” he said. “My dear friend, it is a trap—perhaps.”
Captain Hamby grinned.
“It won’t be a trap,” he said, “if I bring a handful of my boys.”
Mr. Holtz rubbed his hand across his mouth.
“You don’t never stop, my friend,” he said, “when there’s money.”
“Righto,” said Captain Hamby. “Too right.” He whirled around to Calvin Gates. “He was alone, last you saw of him, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Calvin Gates, “he was alone.”
“My friend,” said Mr. Holtz, “I should be careful. Why should our dear friend Mr. Gates be here with such a story?”
Captain Hamby grinned.
“Because Moto couldn’t come here himself,” he answered. “Bloodthirsty devils, the Japanese. Like as not Moto knows he’d be assassinated if he showed his nose in the street. It’s their army and their conservatives fighting. Subtle little beggars, the Japanese, always doing things hind end before. He doesn’t want Ahara to get that cigarette case. My word, Moto’s got some scheme.”
Major Ahara pulled himself out of his chair a second time.
“It has nothing to do with the present situation,” Major Ahara said. “Mr. Moto is a very bad man, very dangerous. Remember, if you please, the Japanese army will control this country in a very little while. The Prince will do well to respect the Japanese army. It will be better for everyone. I am offering a price for that cigarette case—ten thousand dollars gold—and a further sum for immediate occupation of Ghuru Nor—”
Captain Hamby’s grin grew broader. He was evidently enjoying the situation, and the blank expression of the Prince, the sly watchfulness of Mr. Holtz. He was reading something between the lines and Calvin was more sure than ever that Hamby was no fool.
“You’re offering money because you couldn’t get it any other way,” Captain Hamby said. “My word, you tried.”
The Major’s face twisted with a sudden spasm of temper. Although he controlled his facial muscles, his eyes were glowing.
“It will be better for you to take my offer,” he said. “There are other things that I may do.”
“Is that a threat?” Captain Hamby asked.
“Yes,” the Major said in his guttural English, “that is a threat.”
Captain Hamby laughed.
“My word,” he said, “you Japanese johnnies are getting insolent. You’re talking to a white man, Major—to an army officer, and a damned sight better one than you’ll ever be. I don’t give sixpence halfpenny for your army. Maybe we’ll sell you that cigarette case and maybe we won’t. Sit down, Major. We haven’t talked to Russia yet.”
Major Ahara did not sit down.
“I shall leave here at once,” he said.
“Oh no you won’t,” said Captain Hamby. “You’ll sit down and take it easy, Major.”
The Major glanced about the room, shrugged his shoulders and sat down, but his eyes never left Captain Hamby’s face.
“You are making a very great mistake,” he said. “You insult the Japanese army.”
Captain Hamby did not appear impressed; neither did the Prince, who still sat with his clawlike hands resting on his turquoise knees, nor Mr. Holtz who had folded his hands across his stomach.
“To hell with the Japanese army,” Captain Hamby said. “Two Russian army corps could whip you.”
Mr. Holtz raised a hand and dropped it limply on his knee.
“My dear friend,” he said, “there is no reason to be insulting. Major Ahara is a nice gentleman. He has offered us a sum of money, not much, but he may offer more, and you are keeping us all waiting. What is it that you wish to do?”
Captain Hamby stepped up to Mr. Holtz and leaned over his chair.
“We don’t go ahead,” said Captain Hamby slowly, “until I see Moto.”
“My friend!” expostulated Mr. Holtz.
“Wait a minute,” said Captain Hamby. “Listen to me.” And he leaned forward and whispered.
The whisper made the heavy body of Mr. Holtz grow taut and his eyes move forward through the wrinkles in his face like a crab’s.
“My friend,” said Mr. Holtz, “I never thought of that. No, you never stop where there is money. You had better tell the Prince.”
“I’ll tell him,” said Captain Hamby. “His Highness is a sporting gentleman.”
Then Captain Hamby spoke to the Prince in a tongue which was neither Chinese nor Japanese and the Prince answered in sharp interrogation. Captain Hamby looked back at Mr. Holtz.
“I told you,” he said, “His Highness was a sporting gentleman.”
Mr. Holtz moved restlessly and the chair creaked beneath his weight.
“I do not like it, Captain Hamby. Why do you trust our dear friend, Mr. Gates? Why do you think he tells the truth?”
Until his name was mentioned, Calvin had not’ realized how absorbed he had been. He had been trying har
d to piece together what was behind the words.
“I’ll take a chance on his telling the truth,” Captain Hamby said. “Moto’s alone at the China Hotel, isn’t that right, Gates?”
“I told you he was,” said Calvin Gates, “and I told you it’s a trap.”
“That’s fine,” said Captain Hamby, “that’s just fine. You wouldn’t be fooling me, would you, Gates? I’m depending a lot on your word. I’m going up to the China Hotel, and if I’m not back here in an hour, you’re going to be shot.”
“What are you talking about?” said Calvin Gates.
Captain Hamby looked at him hard.
“If I’m not back here in an hour it will mean you haven’t told the truth, and you’re going to be shot. We haven’t time to be gentle tonight.”
Calvin Gates glanced across the room and met the Prince’s smiling eyes.
“Are you trying to frighten me?” Calvin asked.
“My word no,” said Captain Hamby, “I’m just giving you the facts. You’re in the middle of a serious business conference. The Prince is trying to decide whether to sell out to Russia or Japan. If I don’t come back you won’t be alive to know it. Anything you want to say? It’s a fair proposition, isn’t it?”
“And suppose you do come back?” said Calvin Gates.
Captain Hamby laughed.
“That’s the way to talk,” he said. “I’ve always liked you, Gates. My word, if I come back, you won’t lose. The Prince will give you a cut-in, and I’ll let you out to see the fun and I’ll keep my promise. You only have to wait an hour.” The Prince had pushed himself out of his chair and was standing, a gaunt, oldish man in a silk gown, leaning an him on the shoulder of the attendant who had created beside him.
“Easy,” said Captain Hamby, “don’t get jumpy, Gates. I don’t want to see Mr. Moto. I want to bring him here alive, and I’ll get him if you’ve been accurate. Anything you want to say?”
Calvin Gates did not answer. Major Ahara shouted something and two of the Prince’s guard seized him by the shoulders and pushed him back into his chair. The Prince called out an order and two more of the oily-faced men walked toward Calvin Gates.
Mr. Moto Is So Sorry Page 16