Czytaj książkę: «The Mandarin's Fan», strona 7

CHAPTER X
A Mysterious Case

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 mid-night 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 maid-servant 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 fore-closure 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 longside 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."

CHAPTER XI
The Canton Adventure

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 everybodys 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.

"She is scared," 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, "she thought she 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 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 – "