Miss Wharf looked at her excited little friend with an indulgent smile. "Really I don't see why you should trouble," she said with a smile. "Let the Major do what he likes."
"He's up to some mischief," persisted the old maid, "and I'd like to find out what it is. He is supposed to be keeping his room, because of a cold, and I find he is not in. People with colds," added the lady, impressively, "do not go into the night air."
"How do you know Major Tidman has?"
"Because he would be at the ball, were he in the hotel. I shall ask Clarence to see what he is doing."
"Why?" asked Miss Wharf, puzzled.
"Because--oh, just because," replied Miss Pewsey, tossing her head in a sharp way, like the Red Queen in Alice's Adventures. "But the fan, dearest Sophia?--Can't I take charge of it?"
Miss Wharf grasped the fan tighter. "No, certainly not. It is worth five thousand pounds."
"And perhaps more," said Miss Pewsey. "Remember, dearest Sophia, that is the sum offered, but you might ask more. It is very important that this Mandarin should get the fan back. Dr. Forge told me."
"Why is it important?"
"Theophilus didn't tell me that, but he said that this Mandarin--I quite forget his queer name--would give even more than five thousand to get it back."
"His emissary didn't seem very anxious to buy."
"Oh, that is craft," rejoined Miss Pewsey, tossing her head. "The Chinese are very double, Theophilus says."
"I don't think so, Lavinia. I would have sold this fan for a few pounds had I not known such a large sum was offered. Tung-yu is not a good business man, or else the Mandarin must be a millionaire."
"He is--he is. I wish you would let me conduct the business, anddolet me take the fan?"
"No, I shall keep it."
"Sophia," said Miss Pewsey, solemnly, "that is dangerous. Rupert Ainsleigh hates you and needs money; he might kill you to get that fan, and sell it for five----"
"Nonsense. I cannot be murdered in a house full of people like this. I know another Chinaman hints at murder--you told me so----"
"Olivia told me to tell you," put in the little woman, quickly.
"Well, Hwei isn't here, and I'll sell the fan to Tung-yu to-morrow."
Miss Pewsey would have said more, but at this moment Dr. Forge approached, with a crooked elbow and a dreary smile. "Allow me to take you into supper, Miss Wharf."
"Certainly," she rose and took the arm. "I am really hungry. Lavinia?"
"I shall look for Clarence. I must find out what has become of Major Tidman," and the old maid hurried away while the doctor escorted Miss Wharf to the supper-room.
Clarence was not drinking at the buffet, though his aunt went there to find him as the most likely place. Nor was he in the ball-room, although a new dance had begun. She could not see him in the card-room, but finally ran him to earth on the terrace, where he was leaning against a tree-fern with folded arms and with his wicked black eyes fixed on a couple some distance away. Miss Pewsey followed his gaze and her eyes also flashed, for she beheld Rupert talking with Olivia. Both their heads were bent, and they conversed earnestly. The little woman hated Olivia and detested Rupert, so the sight was gall and worm-wood to her. "Why don't you ask her to dance?" she demanded, touching her nephew's arm.
"Because there would only be a row," he rejoined sullenly. "I feel inclined to spoil that chap's looks I can tell you."
"Do you really love the girl, so?"
"Yes I do. I'd give anything to marry her, and I shall too."
"There's not the slightest chance. Ainsleigh will not surrender her I can tell you."
"Then why did you make me waste that fan."
"You didn't waste it on her," said Miss Pewsey coldly, "she refused to take it like a fool, and now Sophia has it, there is no chance of getting it back. Had I known the fan was of such value, you wouldn't have caught me advising you to part with it. If you knew what this Hwei said, why didn't you tell me the fan was valuable."
"I did not see Hwei until I had parted with the fan," said Clarence crossly, "and we can do nothing now."
"You are not so bold as Major Tidman," she whispered.
"What's that?" asked the buccaneer sharply.
"He's not in his room," rejoined Miss Pewsey in a low voice, "he pretends illness, to carry out his plan to get the fan."
"How do you know that?"
"Because Tung-yu is in the hotel. The Major will try and get the fan to sell it to him."
"In that case he would have come to the ball and have seen Miss Wharf to get it from her."
"No. He has some other plan. What it is I don't know. But I wish you would look round for him, Clarence, and watch him."
"Bah! It's all stuff." Burgh turned to look at the sea and the pier and the luminous night. "I'm getting sick of this business," he went on discontentedly, "and but for the chance of gaining Olivia, I would bunk out on the long trail. There's a barky out there," he continued pointing to the right of the pier, "yonder--the one with the green light. I saw her anchor early in the afternoon--a kind of gentleman's yacht I fancy. She'd just do for me. I'd like to take a boat and pull out to her, and then get up steam for the South Seas. There's a clear path leads there, down channel," and he stared at the flickering green light which winked amongst many red ones.
"You'll never get Olivia," said Miss Pewsey, in a sharp tense voice, "and you can go away as soon as you like. Meantime, look for Major Tidman and tell him I want him."
Clarence lazily stretched himself, and moved off along the balcony. At the end there was a flight of shallow steps leading down to an iron gate which was open. Thence one could pass to the Esplanade and the beach, if so inclined. But the guests kept to the populous end of the balcony where the lights clustered. Near the stairs, there were hardly any lamps, and a screen of flowers curtained it off from the rest of the hotel. Clarence passed through this floral arch, and Miss Pewsey lost sight of him. Her eyes turned to the couple she hated, and she carelessly moved near them. No one noted her as the balcony was not so full, and she sat down behind a fern where she could hear without being seen by the two, she was spying on. Their voices were low, but hate sharpened Miss Pewsey's ears, and she listened intently.
"My aunt is much more amiable to-night," Olivia was saying, "I suppose the chance of making five thousand pounds has appealed to her."
"She gave me the chance of making it, provided I gave you up," said Rupert, "and she lost her temper with me because I declined."
"Will you never be friends with her?"
"I fear not, while Miss Pewsey is in the way," said Rupert. "Olivia, it is that woman who makes all the mischief."
"I think it is," replied the girl with a weary smile, "but she seems to have a kind of hypnotic power over my aunt--"
"What do you mean?"
"Aunt Sophia has bad headaches and Miss Pewsey sometimes hypnotises her to send away the pain."
"Miss Wharf is foolish to allow her to do such a thing. That little woman is no more to be trusted than her scamp of a nephew is."
"Well it doesn't matter," said Olivia, feeling in her pocket. "I want to talk about ourselves. See Rupert you wanted a silk tie the other day. I have knitted you one--red and yellow."
Rupert took the tie and admired it in the lamp light. He would have kissed Olivia's hand after a few words of warm thanks, but she prevented him.
"Someone might see and tell Aunt Sophia," she said hurriedly, "I should have given it to you the other day when I called at the Abbey, but I forgot, so I decided to give it to you to-night. It's rather awkward your having it now. Give it to me again."
"No! I'll put it in my overcoat in the cloak room," said Rupert, rising, "but I must take you back to Miss Wharf, or she will be angry."
"I wish this deception was at an end and I could be with you altogether," said Olivia rising with a sigh.
It was at this moment that Miss Pewsey chose to come forward. She was furious at the way in which the couple spoke of her, but long habit enabled her to smooth her face to a treacherous smile.
"Oh dear Olivia," she said. "I have been looking for you everywhere."
"Does my aunt want me?" asked the girl calmly.
"No. She is in the supper-room with Mr. Forge. But Mr. Walker--"
"I don't want him," said Miss Rayner quickly, and with a change of voice.
"Yes--yes," said Rupert in a low voice. "Go with her, and dance with Walker; it will prevent Miss Wharf being cross."
"Very well," rejoined Olivia quietly: then turned to Miss Pewsey who smiled like a grotesque image. "Let us go to the ball-room."
"Won't Mr. Ainsleigh escort us?" asked the old maid, blandly. Rupert bowed, and smothering his feelings, which always revolted at the sight of the woman, he walked beside the two to the ball-room. Miss Pewsey took Olivia's arm and chattered effusively all the time. At the door they met Chris Walker, who hurried up at once and asked for a dance. Leaving the two ladies with him, Rupert went towards the cloak room. Here to his surprise he saw Major Tidman clothed in a heavy fur coat, talking to Tung-yu. Tidman looked white and uneasy, but the Chinaman still preserved his impassive face. Rupert took no notice but simply nodded to the Major as he passed, pulling out the yellow and red tie as he did so. Tidman changed colour, apparently not pleased at being found talking to Tung-yu, and laughed uneasily. "That's a bright piece of goods Ainsleigh."
"It's a present," said Rupert thrusting the tie into the pocket of his over coat. "I should think it would match your friend's dress."
"Hush," said Tidman quietly, "he speaks English. He will hear," then he added aloud. "Let me introduce you to Mr. Ainsleigh, Tung-yu."
The Chinaman turned and looked impassive enough. But his eyes had an enquiring look in their black depths. "Tung-yu and I met in Canton, where we had an adventure," said the Major, with a titter.
"About that famous fan?" asked Rupert smiling.
Tung-yu started and looked quickly at Tidman, who was again pale. "I don't remember about the fan," said Tung-yu, "did our friend find it in Canton."
"No! No I never did," said Tidman hurriedly,--"that is Forge found the fan--"
"And gave it to Miss Wharf. Quite so," replied Tung-yu blandly. "I see her to-morrow about the matter," then he bowed to Rupert and moved away slowly.
"I thought you had a bad cold," said Rupert to Tidman, who was looking after the Chinaman with a scared expression.
"Yes--yes--but that is better now," said the Major hurriedly, "so Miss Wharf is here, and has the fan?"
"Yes, she offered to give it to me if I surrendered Olivia."
"Refuse--refuse," cried Tidman hurriedly: he approached his lips to Ainsleigh's ears. "There is death in the air to-night."
"Tidman," cried Ainsleigh starting away and staring.
"Yes--yes--say nothing. I wish you hadn't mentioned about my having the fan. Tung-yu never knew--but it can't be helped. Ainsleigh, is there another Chinaman here to-night?"
"I have seen none. Do you expect Hwei? If so we had better warn Miss Wharf. She has the fan and--"
"No! No--say nothing. Don't touch the accursed thing."
"How do you know it is accursed?"
"I knew in Canton, and in a very unpleasant way. But I'll tell you my adventure to-morrow--yes I will--if nothing happens to-night."
Rupert stared still harder. "What can happen to-night man alive?"
"Nothing--nothing," said the Major hurriedly. "I'll get back to my room--you needn't say you have seen me. I--"
"Just the man I want," cried a bold free voice, and Burgh's slim hand fell on the Major's shoulder. "Miss Pewsey asks for you."
"For me. Any more trouble?"
"I guess not. She wants to fuss round about your cold. Heaping coals of fire's the English of it."
"Let her leave me alone," said the Major petulantly. "I'm quite well. I am going back to my room," and with a nod to Rupert, he marched out.
Burgh looked after him with a smile and a shrug: then he turned to Rupert who was moving towards the door. "Can I speak with you?" he asked with a frown.
"Not here Mr. Burgh," cried Ainsleigh, "this is not the place for a quarrel."
"And why not," cried the other, advancing with clenched fists, "I--"
"Keep your distance," said Ainsleigh sharply starting back on his guard, "the attendant is looking on," and he pointed to the man behind the counter who attended to the hats and cloaks.
Burgh tossed him a shilling, "Go and get a drink," he ordered.
"Stop where you are," commanded Rupert, "or I'll report you."
But the man, who was a dissipated-looking waiter pretended not to hear this last remark, and disappeared from behind the counter. The two men were alone, and Burgh spoke first. "I guess I'm going to lay you out," said he, "on account of--"
"Stop," said Rupert, "mention no names."
"I'll mention what I like and Olivia--"
Ainsleigh let drive before he could finish the word and in a second Burgh was sprawling on the floor. He rose with an oath and slipped round his right hand. "You draw a revolver and I'll break your neck," panted Rupert, "you bully, what do you mean by--"
Burgh drew his hand away--perhaps he was afraid a shot would bring in others to see the fray. But he dashed again at the young man. A short struggle ensued, which ended in Burgh being thrown again. Then Rupert, disinclined for a vulgar row, walked away. He stopped at the door to give his antagonist a bit of advice. "You touch me again," he said, "and I'll hand you over to the police after giving you a good thrashing. It's what a bully like you deserves. And if you dare to speak to Miss Rayner I'll make Marport too hot to hold you." When Rupert vanished, Burgh raised himself slowly and with an evil smile. "Perhaps the place will be too hot for you my fine gentleman," he said savagely, and began to think.
Meanwhile Rupert went to the ball-room and saw that Olivia was dancing with Dr. Forge. Chris Walker told him that Miss Wharf had gone on to the balcony for the fresh air. Miss Pewsey was not to be seen or Rupert would have told her to look after her disreputable relative in the cloak-room. The young man thought he would go up to the Major's room and have a smoke, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. There stood Tung-yu.
"Excuse me sir," said the Chinaman in his excellent English, "I am your friend. Major Tidman and Dr. Forge are your enemies, and you have a third enemy in that young man Burgh."
"But how do you know--" began Rupert.
Tung-yu bent forward and whispered. "I know how your father died," he said softly and before Rupert could detain him, he vanished.
But Ainsleigh waited but for a moment. The speech was so surprising, that he determined to learn more. At once he ran after the Chinaman but could not see him. In spite of his noticeable clothes, he was swallowed up in the crowd and Rupert plunged into the gay throng determined to find the man who could solve the mystery of Markham Ainsleigh's death.
The night wore on and the fun became fast and furious. Towards twelve the guests began to depart, but many choice spirits declared they would keep the ball rolling till dawn. One of these was Chris Walker, who had imbibed more champagne than was good for him. While he talked excitedly Miss Pewsey came to him hastily. "Where is my dear Sophia?" she asked, "I can't find her, and with her delicate health it is time she was home in bed."
"I have not seen her. Have you, Dr. Forge?"
The lean doctor shook his head, "I have been in the card room for the last hour," he said, "and as Miss Wharf's doctor I assuredly say, she should go home, there's midnight," and as he spoke the strokes boomed from a tall clock in the hall.
"Clarence, have you seen her?" asked Miss Pewsey of the buccaneer who had Olivia on his arm.
"No! I've just been waltzing with Miss Rayner."
"Then you Mr. Ainsleigh?"
"I have been smoking on the balcony," said Rupert, who looked tired.
"Oh, dear me," said Miss Pewsey wringing her hands, "I wonder if dear Sophia has gone to see Major Tidman. She is so kind-hearted and he is ill--at least he says he is. Did he tell you Clarence?"
"I saw him only for a minute and he went back to his room I guess."
"Then Sophia must have gone there," cried Miss Pewsey and hurried away. Olivia followed with Forge as she thought also, that her aunt ought to go home, and Clarence's attentions were becoming so embarrassing that she feared there would be trouble with Rupert. But soon, Miss Pewsey appeared again and said that Miss Wharf was not in the Major's room, nor was the Major there. Taking Olivia and Clarence and Forge, she went to search for the missing lady. Rupert lingered behind as he did not wish to come into contact with the buccaneer.
The hunt proceeded for some time, and every room in the hotel was searched. But Miss Wharf could not be found. Finally everyone--for many of the guests were hunting by this time--, went out on the balcony. Miss Wharf was not there. "Oh, dear me," cried Miss Pewsey, "wherever can she be."
The balcony was searched from end to end. Then one of the guests more venturesome, descended the steps. He gave a cry of horror. "Bring a light," he cried.
Lights were brought and everyone rushed after them. Half way down the steps lay Miss Wharf--dead--strangled, and round her throat tightly bound was a yellow and red silk tie.
The murder of Miss Sophia Wharf at the Bristol Hotel ball, made a great sensation. She had been well-known in Marport, and her many friends were enormously excited that each and everyone of them had been acquainted with a person who had been--as one of them put it--done to death. Also the circumstances of the murder were most extraordinary. It seemed almost incredible that a popular lady should be murdered in so public a place; though many said, that the safety of the assassin lay in the very fact that he had chosen to commit his crime, a few yards away from a spot where many people were congregated. But who had killed Miss Wharf and why she was killed in so brutal a manner, no one could understand.
When the local police heard of the assassination, an Inspector with two subordinates took possession of the hotel, and obtained from the manager a list of the guests present at the ball. As these amounted to something like two hundred, it seemed like looking for a needle in a haystack to search for the criminal amongst them. And many of them did not know Miss Wharf even by sight, so it was certain that the task of identifying the assassin would be one of enormous difficulty. And the question was asked on all hands. "What had taken the deceased lady down the little-frequented steps?" The fan was missing--Miss Pewsey noticed that, when she bent over the dead, but the story of the fan was not yet public property.
According to custom the local police communicated with the Treasury, who placed the case in the hands of the Criminal Investigation Department, and thus it came about, that a plain clothes officer--in other words a detective--was sent down to Marport. This individual was called Rogers, and after paying a visit to the Superintendent of the Marport Police Office, he went to Ivy Lodge. Here, everything was gloomy and silent. The body of the unfortunate woman had been brought home, and was laid out for burial. Dr. Forge, who with others had been on the spot at the time of the discovery, examined the corpse, and asserted that the miserable woman must have been murdered just an hour, or half an hour previous. As midnight was chiming shortly before the discovery of the crime, it can be safely declared--and Dr. Forge did declare this--that Miss Wharf was strangled between eleven and twelve. When the corpse was found it was yet warm, Clarence haunted the Lodge and talked with his aunt, but Olivia kept to her own room.
"Tung-yu did it of course," said Mr. Burgh decisively. "I reckon he came down to get that fan, and grudged giving so much cash for it. I surmise that he lured the old girl to those steps, and then slipped the silk string round her neck."
"The silk tie," said Miss Pewsey whose eyes were very black and glittering, though red round the rims, from weeping.
"How do you know it's a tie?" asked Clarence with a start.
"I know," replied his aunt tightening her thin lips, "and I know to whom the tie belongs. But you say that Tung-yu?--"
"Who else could have scragged the old girl aunt Lavinia. The fan's gone--leastways I didn't see it when we spotted the deader."
Miss Pewsey nodded. "Yes, the fan is gone," she assented, "but if Tung-yu murdered dearest Sophia, he can easily be arrested."
"Oh, I guess not," replied Mr. Burgh easily. "Tung-yu's no slouch, you bet, and didn't intend to lose his prize--"
"The fan?" inquired Miss Pewsey.
"Just so, the fan," replied Clarence imperturbably, "and he's on his way to China by this time."
"Clarence?" Miss Pewsey rose, much excited; then calmed down. "I do not agree with you," said she firmly. "Tung-yu is innocent."
"I'll lay a couple of dollars he isn't, Aunt Lavinia. Do you remember that yacht I pointed out to you last night. Well, t'was a steam deep-sea barky, two hundred tons, Lloyd's measurement I reckon--quite heavy enough to cut round the Cape into Chinese waters. Well, she arrived in the afternoon yesterday and after midnight she lighted out."
"But how do you know Tung-yu was on board?"
"Well, I only size that up," said Clarence musingly, "but it looks to me as though he'd engineered the job. 'Twould be easy I guess for him to have had a boat waiting for him. After he'd killed the old girl and annexed the fan, he could dance down those steps like a two year old and pick up the boat on the beach. Course it's all my fancy," added Burgh modestly, "but I guess I'm right."
"I guess you're not," snapped Miss Pewsey in rather an unlady-like manner, and she rose to shake out her skirts. "I know who killed dearest Sophia," she added, wagging a lean finger at her nephew. "I know who possessed the tie, and I shall hand that man--"
"Who the dickens is he anyhow?"
"Rupert Ainsleigh," replied Miss Pewsey with a grim smile, and left the room, while the buccaneer stared, and then smiled. It was pleasant to think that his rival--as he considered Rupert,--should be in such straits and should be pursued by the vindictive hatred of Miss Pewsey, who would leave no stone unturned to bring about the conviction of young Ainsleigh.
"Well," said the buccaneer with his hands in his pockets, "I guess I'm not taking a hand in this biznai, and it ain't lively round these quarters, I'll git."
And this Mr. Burgh did. When he passed out of the front door, he brushed against a plainly dressed rubicund man with sharp grey eyes who glanced at him inquisitively. However, the stranger said nothing but proceeded to ring the bell. The maidservant who appeared took him into the drawing-room and carried a card to Miss Pewsey. The name thereon was, Orlando Rodgers, C.I.D.
With this in her hand Miss Pewsey sailed into the drawing-room and looked at the comfortable creature who rose to greet her. "Mr. Orlando Rodgers, C.I.D.?" queried the little old lady.
"Criminal Investigation Department," said the man in a cool voice, and with a sharp glance at the dry drab woman, "I'm in charge of the Wharf Murder Case, and have been sent down by the Treasury. As I have seen the Superintendent and can learn nothing likely to throw light on the subject, I have come to you--a relative?"
"No," answered Miss Pewsey sitting down, in a rigid way. "I am the companion of the late Miss Wharf. Her only relative, down here at all events, is Miss Olivia Rayner."
"Can I see her?"
"I think not--at present. She is in her room weeping. Though why she should display such grief I can't understand," added Miss Pewsey spitefully.
"It's natural in a relative, miss," said the detective looking hard at the withered little face.
Miss Pewsey laughed in a shrill manner, and spoke between her teeth more than ever, emphasising every word as usual. "Oh, dear me, no," said she. "Miss Wharf and Olivia never got on well. The girl hated her aunt, though dearest Sophia--Miss Wharf, you know, sir--brought her up, when she hadn't a shilling or a friend in the world."
"To whom have I the honour of speaking?" asked Rodgers wondering how much of this spiteful speech was true, and seeing plainly enough that the speaker was no friend to the niece.
"I am Lavinia Pewsey," said that lady, "and for years I have been the cherished friend and dearest companion of Sophia. We were at school together, and were--as I may say--like two cherries on one stalk. Anything I can do to avenge her death will be done."
"Punishment by the law, doesn't come under the head of vengeance!"
"It comes under the head of hanging, and I'll be glad to see the rope round his neck."
"Of whom are you talking?" asked Rodgers phlegmatically.
"Of the man who killed my dearest friend."
"Oh. I understood from the Superintendent that the affair was quite a mystery."
"Not to me," snapped Miss Pewsey, "Rupert Ainsleigh strangled her to get the fan."
"What fan?" asked the detective taking out his note-book, "and who is Rupert Ainsleigh?"
Miss Pewsey spread her skirts and folded her hands together in a prim way. "I shall tell you all," she cried, "and please take down all I say. I am prepared to make this statement in a law court."
"Well," said Rodgers moistening his pencil, "you may have to. Now this Mr. Ainsleigh?----"
"Of Royabay, a few miles from Marport," said Miss Pewsey, "quite one of the old families. A nice come down for the Ainsleighs, for the last of them to die on the gallows."
"He is not there yet," said Rodgers dryly, "and may I ask you to speak in a more reasonable way. I see you don't like the man."
"I hate him," Miss Pewsey drew a long breath, "and I hated his father before him, to say nothing of his mother, who was a cat."
"Then your evidence is prejudiced, I fancy."
"Never you mind, Mr. Orlando Rodgers," she replied sharply, "take down what I say, and then you can sift the matter out for yourself. My Sophia was murdered to obtain possession of a fan----"
"What fan?" asked Rodgers again.
Miss Pewsey smiled, and calmly detailed all she had learned from Dr. Forge concerning the fan. "You can ask my nephew, Clarence Burgh, about these things also," she ended, "and Dr. Forge, and Mr. Christopher Walker, who brought the Chinaman Tung-yu to the ball, and----"
"Wait a bit," interrupted the detective, "it appears to me from what you say," he ran a quick eye over his notes, "that the suspicion points to these Chinamen you mention. They advertised, and they wanted the fan. Now Hwei--as I hear from you--was not at the ball, but Tung-yu was. Therefore Tung-yu----"
"Didn't do it," said the little woman. "I don't pretend to understand why Hwei offered death and Tung-yu money for the possession of the fan; nor do I know why this Mandarin, whatever his name may be, is so anxious to get possession of the article. But I know that the fan is gone and that Tung-yu, who did not intend murder, hasn't got it."
"Then who has?"
"Rupert Ainsleigh. He went up about the advertisement and knew all about the fan. I believe he killed my Sophia, and got the fan, so as to sell it for five thousand to Tung-yu--"
"But a gentleman of property wouldn't--"
"A gentleman of property," snorted the old maid smoothing her dress, "why he's head over ears in debt and will lose Royabay before the end of the year on account of the foreclosure of a mortgage. He'd have done anything to get money, and five thousand pounds is not a small amount."
"This is all very well: but I don't see how you connected Mr. Ainsleigh with the crime."
"By means of the silk necktie," said Miss Pewsey with a triumphant smile, and related how Rupert had received the scarf from Olivia, "if he is guiltless how came his silk tie round the throat of Sophia?"
Rodgers was shaken by this piece of evidence. "It looks queer I admit," he said: then added, "I understand that Mr. Ainsleigh is an admirer of Miss Rayner."
"He wants to marry her, and she is in love with him," said Miss Pewsey, "which is an additional reason for the crime."
"I don't understand."
"You're not a sharp man," said the old woman tranquilly, "don't you see that as Miss Rayner inherits dearest Sophia's money, she will get the mortgage also. Then with that, and the five thousand pounds Mr. Ainsleigh would be free from his money-troubles. Well," she added sharply, as the detective rose, "what do you say?"
"Nothing at present. Give me the address of Dr. Forge who, I believe, examined the body, and of your nephew and Mr. Ainsleigh."
Miss Pewsey did this with alacrity and accompanied Rodgers to the door. "Don't spare him," she said venomously, "he's guilty and he shall hang," and she shut the door herself.
"What a spiteful woman," mused Rodgers, leaving Ivy Lodge, "her story is so very explicit that I am inclined to doubt it. She wants this young man scragged. Why?"
He could find no answer to this question, but went on his way to see Clarence Burgh. His interview with the buccaneer was brief, Clarence related the story of the yacht, and set forth his theory of Tung-yu. "Mind," said he, "I don't like Ainsleigh, as he's trying to run the girl I want to hitch long-side of. But I guess he didn't scragg the old girl."
"You speak fairer than your aunt," said Rodgers dryly.
Clarence heaved up his right shoulder, "Huh," said he, "if you go by woman's jaw, you'll get on the shoals. Tung-yu scragged the old girl, you bet, and he's on his way to China in that yacht."
"Well, we'll see if we can't stop the yacht. She must coal somewhere. What is her name?"
"The Stormy Petrel," said Clarence, "I got that out of a boatman, who was rowing about her yesterday."
"Did he see any Chinaman on board?"
"No. He didn't see anyone. There didn't appear to be anyone about, or else they were at tea," concluded Clarence ungrammatically.
"Humph," said the detective, noting the name of the yacht, "do you know anything of the silk tie?"
"No. Aunt Lavinia says it belongs to Ainsleigh, but I never saw it till it was round the throat of the old girl. I should like to think he put it there," said Clarence pleasantly, "for I want that chap out of the way; but I believe Tung-yu's the man."
"Perhaps he is. Have you a copy of that advertisement?"
"No. But I reckon Ainsleigh has. Ain't you going to see him?"
Rogers nodded. "Straight away. And I thank you for what you have told me. You want him hanged I presume."
"Well no I reckon not. He's in my way, but I can lay him out on my own, without the lynching biznai."
"You are fairer than your aunt," said the detective once more.
"Go slow. She's only an acid-drop, and you can't size her up, just as an ordinary girl. She was crazy on Markham, the father of this young Ainsleigh, and----"
"And proposes to hang the son to avenge herself on his father. A nice woman, truly. But it seems to me Mr. Burgh that if anyone killed Miss Wharf, Hwei is the man."
"Might be. He wasn't at the ball anyhow. Tung-yu was."
"But Tung-yu--as I understand from Miss Pewsey--intended to call the next day--to-day that is--and buy the fan for five thousand."
"Huh," Clarence heaved up his shoulder again, "perhaps he thought he'd settle in another way. 'Day. I'll be along here whenever you like to call. I wish to see this biznai through, you bet."
Rodgers departed, and sought out Rupert at Royabay. The young man was walking up and down the terrace smoking furiously. At the sight of the stranger he frowned and Rodgers noted that he looked worn and ill. "Might be money worries," thought the detective, "and it might be the other thing."
However, he kept these thoughts to himself and merely detailed what he had learned from Miss Pewsey and set forth the accusation she brought against him. Ainsleigh heard the detective quietly enough, and smiled wearily when the explanation was concluded. "Miss Pewsey doesn't love me," he said quietly, "and would like to see me out of the way, so that Miss Rayner could marry her nephew."
"I see," nodded Rodgers, "Miss Rayner will have the dead lady's money, and the nephew is poor."
"I really don't know," replied Rupert coldly, "Mr. Burgh is a mystery to me. He comes from nowhere, though I believe he has been in China."
"And knows what about the fan?"
"I think so. At all events, young Walker declares that Burgh was talking to a Chinaman near the Mansion House. Burgh admits this, and also admits that the Chinaman was Hwei, who put in that advertisement.
"I'm inclined to suspect Hwei himself," said Rodgers looking keenly at the worn face of the young man, "but this silk tie----"
"It is mine, Mr. Rodgers. Miss Rayner gave it to me last night."
"So Miss Pewsey says--on the balcony."
"Quite so. Miss Pewsey was spying and saw the tie given. As the colours are rather pronounced, she could easily identify it. I took it to the cloak-room and placed it in the pocket of my overcoat."
"And took it out again?"
"No." Rupert rose and grew crimson, "surely you are not so unjust as to believe Miss Pewsey's malignant tale."
"You may be sure, Mr. Ainsleigh, that I'll act fairly towards you," said the detective dryly, "but the tie having been used to strangle--"
"I don't know how it came round her throat," interrupted Ainsleigh imperiously, "I placed the tie in my overcoat pocket--that was the last I saw of it, until I noticed it on Miss Wharf's dead body."
"Did anyone else see the tie?"
"Yes, Major Tidman?"
"Who is he?"
"A retired Army man--South American Army--who stops at Bristol Hotel. He is much respected here. I went to the cloak room, and found him talking to Tung-yu. Both, saw me place the tie in my coat."
Rodgers sat up. "Oh," said he opening his eyes widely, "then Tung-yu saw you place the tie in the coat."
"He did, but if you suspect he took it out again, I think you are wrong. He left the room and I exchanged a few words with Major Tidman."
"What about?"
"About this fan. Major Tidman told me to leave it alone. But of course I never intended to meddle with it. Miss Wharf had it, and she hated me too much to let me handle it, though she did give me the chance of making the money," said Rupert, with an after thought.
"Eh, how was that?"
"She offered to let me have the fan if I gave up my claim to Miss Rayner, whom she desired should marry Mr. Burgh, I refused."
"Humph," said Rodgers again, "and how does Major Tidman come to know about the fan?"
"I refer you to him for an answer."
"And how did he come to know Tung-yu?"
"I believe he met him in Canton," replied Rupert restlessly, "he had some adventure there--?"
"Connected with this ubiquitous fan?" asked Rodgers sharply.
"Yes. He promised to tell me the adventure to-day, but I had not seen him yet."
"Humph. He may come after all. I'll call on this gentleman. At the Bristol you say. Quite so," Rodgers took a note. "Now then Mr. Ainsleigh, tell me how you came to go up about the advertisement?"
Rupert related his father's dealings with Lo-Keong, and referred to the secret said to be connected with the fan. The detective heard him in silence, and appeared to be struck by his frankness. "I think it's one of the most complicated cases I ever had to do with, Mr. Ainsleigh, and will take a lot of searching into."
"I hope you don't suspect me?"
"Humph, the tie is, strangely enough, the rope used to strangle this woman, and you admit that it is yours. But Tung-yu saw you put it in your overcoat pocket, and he wanted the fan--"
"For five thousand pounds remember. Hwei was the one who threatened to gain the fan, by killing."
"Don't defend Tung-yu too much," said the detective dryly, "your position is not a pleasant one and--"
"Do you mean to arrest me?" asked Rupert rising angrily.
"Not at present. But no doubt at the inquest you can prove an alibi."
Rupert turned away, "I can't," he said in a low voice, "I was walking outside smoking between eleven and twelve--on the beach."
"That's a pity, Mr. Ainsleigh, I may have to arrest you after all. But who is this gentleman. Major Tidman!--quite so. Good-day Major."
Major Tidman who was standing at the foot of the terrace stared at the man before him. "How do you know my name?" he asked, and looked towards Rupert for a reply.
Mr. Rodgers produced a red silk handkerchief and wiped his face for it was noon and very warm. "A guess on my part," he answered, "Mr. Ainsleigh said you might come here, to tell him of your Canton adventure, and I fancied it might be you, Major Tidman."
"I am not aware," said the Major loftily, "why you should interest yourself in my private affairs."
"I interest myself in everybody's private affairs, when they have to do with murder," said Rodgers quietly.
Tidman stared and gasped. "Then you are?"--
"The detective in charge of the Wharf murder case. I am glad to see you, sir," he laid a finger on Tidman's chest, "you have something to tell me no doubt?"
"No," said the Major gasping again, "I have not."
Rupert looked at him suddenly and the Major's small eyes fell before that direct gaze. "Let us go, into the library," said Ainsleigh tranquilly, "we may as well have a long talk before I am arrested."
Tidman jumped. "Arrested," he cried staring.
Something in his looks, made Rodgers take the cue thus offered, "I may have to arrest Mr. Ainsleigh for the murder," he said significantly.
"But that's rubbish, why should he murder Miss Wharf?"
"On account of the fan," put in Rupert grimly.
"I'll never believe that--never," said Tidman vigorously.
Rodgers looked at him sideways. "Well you see," said he in a cheerful voice. "Miss Wharf was strangled with a red and yellow silk tie, belonging to Mr. Ainsleigh."
"I know, and I saw him place that tie in his overcoat pocket."
"You say that. Quite so. Mr. Ainsleigh might have taken it out again."
"No. He couldn't have done that. The attendant came back, and remained in the room all the rest of the evening."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I returned to the cloak-room to see if Mr. Ainsleigh was there. I learned from the attendant," said the Major volubly, "that Mr. Ainsleigh and Mr. Burgh had been fighting--"
"Oh," said the detective, "so Mr. Burgh knew of the tie also?"
"He did not," put in young Ainsleigh rapidly, "he came in, after I put the tie away. He insulted me, about--about a lady," said Rupert hesitating, "and I knocked him down twice."
"Didn't the attendant interfere?"
"No. Burgh threw him a shilling and told him to cut. I ordered the man to stay, but he obeyed Burgh. Then we had a row, and I went away."
"Leaving Mr. Burgh in the cloak-room?" asked Rodgers shrewdly.
"Yes. But he knew nothing about the tie. He could not have taken it. I am sure he didn't."
The detective smiled in a puzzled manner. "Upon my word Mr. Ainsleigh, you defend everyone. First Tung-yu, now Mr. Burgh, who is your enemy."
"I have so many enemies," said Rupert with a shrug, "Tung-yu told me that Burgh and Forge and Major Tidman were my enemies."
"That's a lie on Tung-yu's part," chimed in the Major angrily. "I am not your enemy."
Rupert turned on him quickly. "Prove it then," he said, sharply, "by stating that I was with you on the beach last night after eleven."
"Oh, oh," cried Rodgers smiling, "so you can prove an alibi after all, Mr. Ainsleigh."
"Yes," said Rupert shortly. "But I did not wish to speak, until I heard what Major Tidman had to say."
Rodgers shook his head. "You have too nice a sense of honour," was his remark, "or else you are very deep."
Rupert did not reply. His eyes were fixed on the Major's face, which changed to various colours. "You knew my father well Tidman?"
"Yes. We were old friends--good friends," faltered the other.
"Do you know how he died?"
"No I do not." The Major wiped his face, "I can safely say I do not."
"But you know he was murdered."
The Major started. "Who told you that?"
"Tung-yu, and you know Tung-yu, who might have explained the circumstances of my father's death to you."
"He did not," said Tidman earnestly, "but I heard that Mr. Ainsleigh did die by violence. I don't know under what circumstances."
"This is all very well gentlemen," said the detective, "but it does not help me."
"It may help you, Mr. Rodgers. The murder of Miss Wharf is connected with this fan, and the Major can tell you about his Canton adventure which has to do with it also."
Major Tidman turned grey and his face looked fearful, "I came to tell you, Rupert," he said trying to be calm, "but it won't help this man," he nodded towards Rodgers, "to find the assassin."
"We'll see about that," replied Rodgers briskly, "let us go in and sit down. The fan is at the bottom of this business, and when I learn all about it, I may know how to act."
The Major shrugged his plump shoulders and walked towards the open French window. When he passed through to the library, the detective and Ainsleigh followed. In a few minutes, they were comfortably seated. Rupert asked the two if they would have some refreshments, and receiving a reply in the affirmative, rang the bell. "Though mind you, Mr. Ainsleigh," said Rodgers, "this drinking a glass of wine doesn't stop me from arresting you, if I see fit."
"You can set your mind at rest," said Rupert coldly, "I have no wish to tie you down to a bread and salt treaty. Some wine, Mrs. Petley."
The housekeeper, who had entered, was as plump as ever, but her face looked yellow, and old, and haggard, and there was a terrified look in her eyes. In strange contrast to her usual volubility, she did not speak a word, but dropping a curtsey, went out.
"That woman looks scared," said the detective,
"Sheisscared," assented Rupert, "we have a ghost here, Mr. Rodgers--the ghost of a monk, and Mrs. Petley thought she saw it last night."
"Really," said the detective with good-humoured contempt, "shethoughtshe saw a ghost. What nonsense."
"No, sir. It ain't nonsense."
It was the housekeeper who spoke. Having seen the Major coming up the avenue, she knew that he would require his usual glass of port, and therefore had prepared the tray, while the conversation was taking place on the terrace. This accounted for her quick return, and she set down the tray with the jingling glasses and decanter as she spoke. "It was a ghost, sure enough," said Mrs. Petley, when the small table was placed before the three gentlemen, "the ghost of Abbot Raoul. I've seen him times and again, but never so plainly as last night. It was between eleven and twelve," added Mrs. Petley without waiting for permission to speak, "and I sat up for Master Rupert here. I took a walk outside, it being fine and dry, and like a fool, I went in to the abbey."
"Why shouldn't you go there?" asked Rodgers.
"Because Abbot Raoul always walks where he was burnt," replied Mrs. Petley, "and there he was sure enough. No moonlight could I see, but the stars gave a faint light, and he was near the square--the accursed square where they burnt the poor soul. I gave one screech as he swept past in his long robes and a cowl, and when I come to myself on the damp grass, he was gone. I hurried in and told Petley, who came out and searched, but bless you," went on the housekeeper with contempt, "he couldn't find a thing that had gone back to the other world--not he."
"It was a dream, Mrs. Petley," said Rupert soothingly.
"No, sir. Trouble is coming to the Ainsleighs, as always does when the Abbot walks. And this morning I went out and found this," and Mrs. Petley, fishing in her capacious pocket, produced a small stick which smelt like cinnamon. Round it was a roll of scarlet paper inscribed with queer characters. Rupert stretched out his hand to take it, but the detective anticipated him.
"It's a joss-stick," said Rodgers. "I've seen them in the Whitechapel opium dens. Humph! Why should the ghost of an old monk use a joss-stick, like the Chinese?"
Before anyone could reply, Mrs. Petley gave a cry, "I told you trouble was coming, Master Rupert, dear," she said with the tears streaming from her fat face, "and anything to do with that weary Chiner where your poor pa lost his life always do bring trouble. Oh, dear me," she put her silk apron to her eyes and walked slowly out of the room. "I must tell my John. He may be able to say what's coming, as he have a gift of prophecy, that he have."
When Mrs. Petley closed the door after her, the three men looked at one another. "Do you believe in this ghost, Mr. Ainsleigh?" asked the detective, examining the joss-stick.
Rupert did not give a direct answer. "I don't know what to believe, Mr. Rodgers. Our family traditions have always pointed to the walking of of Abbot Raoul before trouble, and it might be so. I have never seen the ghost myself, though."
"Your ghost is a Chinaman," said the detective, tapping the stick.
"But what would a Chinaman be doing in the cloisters?"
"Ah. That's what we've got to find out. There was a yacht in Marport Harbour last night, which came at midday, and departed in a hurry after midnight. Burgh says he believes Tung-yu went away in her, after committing the murder."
"Even if he did," said Rupert, calmly, "that does not show how the joss-stick came here, or why a Chinaman should be masquerading as a monk, for that, I take it, is your meaning."
"It is. I believe there were other Chinamen on board that boat," was the detective's reply. "Perhaps this man Hwei came to the Abbey."
"He might have come," said Ainsleigh, carelessly.
"Or Tung-yu," went on Rodgers.
"No," said the Major who had kept silent all this time, but had observed everything, "it was not Tung-yu's day."
Rodgers turned on him. "What do you mean by that?"
The Major settled himself more comfortably in his chair. "I'll tell you my adventure at Canton first," he said, "and then you may understand. I can't get to the bottom of the matter myself, for why Lo-Keong should have a private god of good luck is more than I can tell."
The others looked at him, amazed at this queer speech. "What is this private god?" asked the detective.
"I don't know, save that it is called Kwang-ho."
Rupert started. "That was the god mentioned in the advertisement."
"Yes, so it was," replied the Major, quietly, "but just you wait and hear my story. It may lead to something being discovered."
"One moment, Mr. Ainsleigh. Show me the advertisement."
Rupert rose, and going to the writing-desk took therefrom the slip he had cut from the paper. Rodgers read it, quietly. "I see. Here is mentioned the doom of the god, Kwang-ho."
"Lo-Keong's private god of good luck," said the Major.
"Are there private as well as public gods in China?"
Tidman looked perplexed. "I can't say. I know nothing. Wait and hear what I can tell," he settled himself again and began to speak rapidly. "I was in Canton seven years ago," said he, "I had made my money here, and didn't intend to travel again. But Miss Wharf persuaded me to go to China, to see if I could find out why Markham Ainsleigh had been killed."
Rupert looked astonished. "Why? she hated my father."
"She loved him first and hated him later," said Tidman, quietly, "a fine woman was poor Miss Wharf. I was in love with her--"
"I never knew that Tidman."
"I was though," said the Major, "and Miss Pewsey hated me for being in love with her. I spoke badly of Miss Wharf to you Ainsleigh because I was angered with her--"
"You called her a mass of granite."
"And so she is," said the Major angrily, "she promised to marry me if I went to China and learned how your father came by his death. I did go, but I came back without learning more, than that he was murdered, so Miss Wharf refused to keep her promise. I believe it was that Pewsey cat's fault."
"Well--well--go on," said Rodgers looking at his watch, "all this business is very round-about. I want to get on with my work."
"This may have to do with it," said the Major smartly. "Well, I was in Canton, and intended to go up to the Kan-su province to make enquiries. I met Forge in Canton. He had just come from Pekin, and showed me round. He laughed at the idea that Markham had died by violence, and said it was dysentery."
"So he always said," murmured Rupert, who listened intently.
"And told a lie," retorted Tidman, "however I believed him, but all the same I intended to make enquiries at the mine of the Hwei River in the Kan-su province. But I stopped in Canton with Forge for a time, as he said he would go up with me. In some way, the fact of my trying to learn the truth about Markam's death got about."
"No doubt Forge told it to others," suggested Rupert.
"I don't know. I never got to the bottom of the business. But one day a half-starved Chinaman stopped me in the street, and told me he could explain, if I came with him. I went to a miserable house in a low part of the city. The man closed the door, and then drew a fan from his breast--"
"The fan in question?" asked Rodgers making a note.
"Yes--the very article. He told me that this fan would reveal the truth, and offered it to me."
"For money?"
"No. He refused to take a penny. He seemed anxious to get rid of the fan, and kept looking round everywhere as though he thought someone might be listening. I asked him how the fan could tell about the death, but all he said, was, that it could."
"But in what way?" asked Ainsleigh, puzzled.
"I really don't know," said the Major, with an air of fatigue. "I am telling you all I know. I took the fan and cleared, and got home safely enough. Then I hid away the fan--where it doesn't matter; but I have travelled so much that I always keep a secret place for money and valuables. I placed the fan there, though I really didn't know what to make of the matter. After a few days I came to my rooms to find that everything had been ripped open and smashed and searched--"
"And the fan was gone," said Rodgers.
"Not it. They--whosoever they were who searched, could not find my hiding place. Well, a day or two later, as I was walking along the street at night, I was seized up and gagged, and carried to some low Chinese house. There a Chinaman examined me, and asked me what I had done with the fan--"
"What sort of a man was he?" asked Rupert, "would you know him again?"
The Major looked doubtful. "Chinamen are all so alike," he said, "but this chap had only one eye, and was a villainous looking beast. He declared that he knew the first Celestial had given me the fan, and that he wanted it. I refused to give it up. He took out a knife, and said he would slice me up. Oh," broke off the Major looking grey and old, "however shall I forget that terrible moment, Ainsleigh. Do you wonder that I shudder to relate this adventure, and that I refuse to speak of it. I was in that miserable place, in the midst of a horde of Chinamen, bound and helpless, with a knife at my throat. I never did care for death," said Tidman boldly, "but to be cut slowly into slices, was more than I could stand."
"Why didn't you give up the fan then?" asked Rodgers.
"Because I made up my mind that slicing or no slicing, I wasn't going to be bullied by a lot of heathen devils. The position was awful, but I'm an Englishman, and I resolved to hold off to the last moment, I dare say I would have given up the fan after all, as the one-eyed brute began to cut me up, I lost a big toe--"
"Oh," said Rupert, while Rodgers shook his head, "did this man cut a toe off?"
"Yes--my big toe. I was about to give in, when suddenly a small Chinese boy dressed in red--queerly enough, as the Chinese don't go in much for that colour--appeared and said something. The one-eyed Chinaman scowled, and put his knife away. Then he cleared out with the boy and his other friends and I was left alone. Then with the loss of blood, and the pain of my toe I fainted."
"No wonder," said Ainsleigh, "I don't blame you. Well?"
"Well, then I came to my senses in my own room. Forge was with me and said that he had traced me to the hovel and had rescued me with the aid of the Canton police. He declared that I would have to leave Canton at once, or this one-eyed Chinaman would be after me. I agreed, and with Forge I went that very day on board a homeward-bound steamer. I thanked Forge for having helped me, and he asked if I would give him the fan as a reward. I refused, as I wanted to know how it could tell about Markham's death. Forge said that if I kept possession of the fan, the one-eyed Chinaman would track me to England and kill me. But I held out, till I got to Marport. Then I grew weary of Forge worrying me, particularly as he promised to do what he could to learn the secret of the fan, and help me to marry Miss Wharf. So he took the fan, and then, as you know, Ainsleigh, he took it out to China again, where it fell into the hands of a pirate from whom Clarence Burgh received it."
"But how did it get from Dr. Forge's hands into those of the pirate?" asked Rodgers curiously.
"I don't know; you can ask Forge. He lives here?"
The detective took a note of the doctor's address. "That's all right," he said, "there's no doubt the poor lady was killed to procure this fan. Did you tell her of your adventure?"
"No," said the Major with a shudder. "I merely said that I could not learn how Markham was killed and she refused to marry me. I did not care about speaking of the adventure. You know how the fan came into Miss Wharf's possession Mr. Rodgers?"
"Yes," the detective nodded, "Mr. Burgh told me, but I'll have another talk with him. Humph. It seems to me that one of these Chinamen killed Miss Wharf, and that the tie was used to lay the blame on Mr. Ainsleigh here."
"Well," said Ainsleigh drawing a breath, "I am glad to hear that you don't suspect me, but I can't think that Tung-yu stole the tie, even though he did see me place it in the coat."
"I'll look after that cloak-room attendant," said Rodgers, making another note, "and he'll have to give an account of himself. But I don't see what this private god Kwang-ho has to do with the matter."
"I can only tell you this," said Major Tidman, "I had a cold last night and stopped in my room. But I heard that Tung-yu was down the stairs, and, as I knew him in Canton, I went to have a look for him. He was a pleasant companion in Canton."
"Did you tell him about the fan and your adventure?"
"No, Ainsleigh, and I was annoyed that you should have let slip that I had such an adventure, I don't want to be mixed up in the matter. Tung-yu is nice enough, but if he has to do with the fan he is quite capable of turning nasty and making things unpleasant for me. But I mentioned about his advertisement, and how I came to know of it through you. He confessed that Lo-Keong had lost the fan and wished it back again, as it had to do with some family business. The finding of it was referred to the god Kwang-ho, and the priest of the god, said that two men were to search for the fan."
"Hwei and Tung-yu."
"Yes. They were to search on alternate days. If Hwei found it he was to kill the person from whom he got it. If it was Tung-yu's day he was to give the fortunate person five thousand pounds."
"And whose day was it on the night of the crime?"
"Hwei's," said the Major, "that was why Tung-yu could not buy the fan when Miss Wharf offered it to him."