Charlie Chan - Charlie Chan Carries On Part 19

"I have no idea what alley you're talking about. I saw none of my people from the time I went to the office until I returned to the s.h.i.+p. I suggest you get on with this. Time is pressing."

"Whom is it pressing?" asked Chan suavely. "Speaking for myself, I have six days to squander. Mr. Tait, do you cling to legal rights, or will you condescend to tell humble policeman how you spent last evening?"

"Oh, I've no objection," returned Tait, amiable with an effort. "Why should I have? Last night, about eight o'clock, we started a contract bridge game in the lounge. Aside from myself, Mrs. Spicer, Mr. Vivian and Mr. Kennaway took part in it. It's a foursome that has had many similar contests as we went round the world."

"Ah, yes - travel is fine education," nodded Chan. "You played until the boat sailed."

"We did not. We were having a splendid game when, at about eight-thirty, Mr. Vivian raised the most unholy row -"

"I beg your pardon," Vivian cut in. "If I broke up the game, I had an excellent reason. You have heard me tell my partner a thousand times that if I make an original two bid, I expect her to keep it open, even if -"

"So - you told me that a thousand times, did you?" flared Mrs. Spicer. "A million would be more like it. And I've explained patiently to you that if I had a flat hand, I wouldn't bid - no, not even if Mr. Whitehead was sitting beside me with a gun. The trouble with you is, a little knowledge is a dangerous -"

"Pardon me that I burst in," Charlie said, "but the matter becomes too technical for my stupidity to cope with. Let us seize on fact that game broke up."

"Broke up in a row, at eight-thirty," Tait continued. "Mr. Kennaway and I went out on to the deck. It was raining hard. Mark said he thought he'd get his rain-coat and take a stroll up to the town. I saw him leave about ten minutes later. I told him I preferred to stay aboard."

"And did you?" Charlie asked.

"No, I didn't. After Mr. Kennaway had gone, I remembered that I'd seen a copy of the New York Sunday Times hanging outside a news-stand on King Street yesterday morning. I'd meant to go back and get it. I hadn't seen one for ages, and I was keen to have it. The rain seemed to be letting up a bit. So I got a coat my hat and stick -"

"Your Malacca stick?"

"Yes - I believe I carried the Malacca. At about ten minutes of nine I walked up-town, bought the paper, and returned to the s.h.i.+p. I'm a slow walker, and I suppose it was about twenty minutes past the hour when I came aboard again."

Chan took his watch from his left-hand vest pocket. "What time have you now, Mr. Tait?" he asked quickly.

Tait's right hand went to his own waistcoat pocket. Then it dropped back to his lap, and he looked rather foolish. He extended his left wrist, and examined the watch on it. "I make it ten-twenty-five," he announced.

"Correct," smiled Charlie. "I make it the same, and I am always right."

Tait's bushy eyebrows rose. "Always?" he repeated, with a touch of sarcasm.

"In such matters - yes," nodded the Chinese. For a moment he and the lawyer stared at each other. Then Chan looked away. "So many changes of time as you peruse way around world," he said softly. "I merely wished to be certain your watch is up to date. Mr. Vivian, what was your course of action after bridge table eruption?"

"I, too, went ash.o.r.e," Vivian responded. "I wanted to cool off."

"With hat, coat and Malacca stick, no doubt?" suggested Charlie.

"We've all got Malacca sticks," snapped the polo player. "They're almost obligatory when you visit Singapore. I walked about the city, and got back to the s.h.i.+p a few minutes before it sailed."

"Mrs. Spicer?" Charlie's eyes turned in her direction.

She looked weary and fed-up.

"I went to bed when I left the bridge table," she told him. "It had been a somewhat trying experience. Bridge is only fun when you happen to have a gentleman for a partner."

"Mr. Kennaway, your actions have already been detailed by Mr. Tait."

Kennaway nodded. "Yes - I took my little stick and went ash.o.r.e. I didn't stay long, however. I thought Mr. Tait might want me to read to him, so I came back to the s.h.i.+p soon after nine. But Mr. Tait, to my surprise, wasn't aboard. He appeared about nine-twenty, as he told you, and he had the Times under his arm. We went to our cabin, and I read to him from the paper until he fell asleep."

Charlie looked around the circle. "And this gentleman?"

"Max Minchin, Chicago. And nothing to hide, get me?"

Charlie bowed. "Then you will be glad to detail your actions?"

"Yes - and it'll take just one minute - see?" Mr. Minchin fondled an expensive, half-smoked cigar, from which he had failed to remove a s.h.i.+ning gold band. "Me and Sadie - that's the wife - was doing the town, in the rain. Well, the evening wasn't so much on the up and up with me, so I dragged the frau into a pitcher show. But we seen that filum a year ago in Chi., and Sadie was itching to get back to the stores, so we made our get-away quick. After that, just buying right and left. We didn't have no truck with us, and when we couldn't handle no more, Sadie agreed to quit. We staggered back to the s.h.i.+p. I didn't have no gat on me, and I wasn't carrying no Malacca stick. When I carry a cane, it'll mean my dogs ain't no good no more - I told Sadie that in Singapore."

Charlie smiled. "Mr. Benbow?" he suggested.

"Same story as the Minchins," that gentleman replied. "We did the stores, though they're not much after those Oriental bazaars. Sat a while in the Young lobby and watched it rain. I said I wished I was back in Akron, and Nettie practically agreed with me. First time we've been in accord on that point since the tour started. But we were on good old U.S. soil, even if it was pretty sloppy, and we came back to the s.h.i.+p walking high, wide and handsome. I think we stepped aboard about nine-fifteen. I was dead tired - I'd bought a motion picture projector in Honolulu, and the weight of one of those things is n.o.body's business."

"Miss Pamela," said Chan. "I already know how your evening was spent. Leaving, I think only two yet to be inquisitioned. This gentleman - Captain Keane, I believe."

Keane leaned back, stifled a yawn, and clasped his hands behind his head. "I watched the bridge for a while," he replied. "Not as a kibitzer, you understand." He glanced at Vivian. "I never interfere in affairs that don't concern me."

Recalling the captain's record outside various doors, Charlie felt the remark was somewhat lacking in sincerity. "And after the bridge -" he prompted.

"When the battle broke," Keane went on, "I took to the open air. Thought some of getting my own little Malacca stick and going ash.o.r.e, but the rain gave me pause. Never did care for rain, especially the tropical kind. So I went to my cabin, got a book, and returned here to the smoking-room."

"Ah," remarked Chan. "You now possess a book."

"What are you trying to do, razz me?" said the captain. "I sat here reading for a while, and about the time the boat sailed, I went to bed."

"Was any one else in this room while you were?"

"n.o.body at all. Everybody ash.o.r.e, including the stewards."

Charlie turned to the man whom he had purposely saved until the last. Ross was sitting not far away, staring down at his injured foot. His stick, innocent of its rubber tip, lay beside him on the floor.

"Mr. Ross, I believe you will complete the roster," Chan remarked. "You went ash.o.r.e last evening, I have heard."

Ross looked up in surprise. "Why, no, Inspector," he replied. "I didn't."

"Indeed? Yet you were seen to come aboard s.h.i.+p at nine-fifteen."

"Really?" Ross lifted his eyebrows.

"On authority not to be impeached."

"But - I am sorry to say - in this case quite mistaken."

"You are sure you did not leave the s.h.i.+p?"

"Naturally I'm sure. It's the sort of thing I ought to know about, you must admit." He remained entirely amiable. "I dined aboard, and sat in the lounge for a while after dinner. I'd had a rather hard day - a lot of walking, and that tires me. My leg was aching, so I retired at eight o'clock. I was sound asleep when Mr. Vivian, who shares my cabin, came in. That was in the neighborhood of ten, he told me this morning. He was careful not to wake me. He is always most considerate."

Chan regarded him thoughtfully. "Yet at nine-fifteen, as I have said, Mr. Ross, two people of unreproachable honesty saw you come up the plank, and you pa.s.sed them on deck."

"May I ask how they recognized me, Inspector?"

"You carried stick, of course."

"A Malacca stick," nodded Ross. "You have seen what that amounts to."

"But more, Mr. Ross. You were walking with customary difficulty, owing to unhappy accident which is so deeply deplored by all."

For a moment Ross regarded the detective. "Inspector," he remarked at last, "I've watched you here. You're a clever man."

"You exaggerate shamelessly," Charlie told him.

"No, I don't," smiled Ross. "I say you're clever, and I believe that all I need do now is to tell you about a queer little incident that happened on this s.h.i.+p late yesterday afternoon." He picked up his stick. "This was not bought in Singapore, but in Tacoma some months ago just after I had my accident. After I bought it, I looked around until I found a rubber tip - a shoe, I believe it is sometimes called - to fit over the end of it. This made walking easier for me, and it did not scratch hardwood floors. About five yesterday afternoon, I returned to the s.h.i.+p and took a brief nap in my cabin. When I rose and went down to dinner, I was conscious of something - something wrong - at first I didn't know just what. But presently I realized as I walked, my stick was tapping on the deck. I looked down in amazement. The rubber tip was gone. Some one had taken it." He stopped. "I remember Mr. Kennaway came along at that moment, and I told him what had happened."

"That's right," Kennaway agreed. "We puzzled over the matter. I suggested somebody was playing a joke."

"It was no joke," remarked Ross gravely. "Some one, I now believe, was planning to impersonate me for the evening. Some one who was clever enough to recall that my stick made no sound when it touched a hard surface."

No one spoke. Mrs. Luce appeared in the distant doorway, and came swiftly to Chan's side. The detective leaped to his feet.

"What's this I hear?" she cried. "Poor Inspector Duff!"

"Not badly injured," Charlie a.s.sured her. "Recovering."

"Thank heaven," she replied. "The aim is wavering. The arm is getting weak. Well, too much shooting is bad for anybody. I take it you are with us in Inspector Duff's place, Mr. Chan?"

"I am unworthy subst.i.tute," he bowed.

"Unworthy fiddlesticks! You can't put that over on me. Known Chinese most of my life - lived among *em. At last we're going to get somewhere. I'm sure of it." She glanced belligerently around the circle. "And about time, if you ask me."

"You arrive at good moment," Charlie said. "I will request your testimony, please. Last night, after I brought you to dock, you and Miss Pamela sat on deck near top of gangplank. You beheld several members of party return to s.h.i.+p. Among them, Mr. Ross here?"

The old lady stood for a moment staring at Ross. Then she shook her head. "I don't know," she answered.

Chan was surprised. "You don't know whether you saw Mr. Ross or not?"

"No, I don't."

"But, my dear," said Pamela Potter, "surely you remember. We were sitting near the rail, and Mr. Ross came up the plank, and pa.s.sed us -"

Again Mrs. Luce shook her head. "A man who walked with a stick, and limped, pa.s.sed us - yes. I spoke to him, but he didn't answer. Mr. Ross is a polite man. Besides -"

"Yes?" Charlie said eagerly.

"Besides, Mr. Ross carries his stick in his left hand, whereas that man last night was carrying his in the right. I noticed it at the time. That's why I say I don't know whether it was Mr. Ross or not. My own feeling at the moment was that it was not."

Silence followed. Finally Ross looked up at Charlie. "What did I tell you, Inspector?" he remarked. "I did not leave the s.h.i.+p last evening. I had rather a hunch the matter would be proved in time, though I didn't expect the proof so soon."

"Your right leg is injured one," Charlie said.

"Yes - and any one who has never suffered such an injury might suppose that I would naturally carry my stick in the right hand. But as my doctor pointed out to me, the left is better. I am more securely balanced, and I can move much faster."

"That's O.K., Officer," put in Maxy Minchin. "A few years back an old pal of mine winged me in the left calf. I found out then the dope was to carry the cane on the opposite side. It gives you better support - get me?"

Ross smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Minchin," he said. He glanced at Chan. "These clever lads always slip up somewhere, don't they?" he added. "Here is one who had brains enough to want my rubber shoe so his stick couldn't be distinguished on that score - and then, in his haste, forgot to notice in which hand I carried mine. Well, all I can say is, I'm very glad he did." His eyes traveled questioningly about the little circle.

Charlie stood up. "Meeting now adjourns for time being," he announced. "I am very grateful to you all for kind cooperating."

They filed out, until Tait alone remained with the detective. He strolled over to Chan with a grim smile on his face.

"You didn't get much out of that session," he remarked.

"You believe not?" Chan inquired.

"No, but you did your best. And on one point, at least, you showed unusual ac.u.men. That about the watch, I mean."

"Ah, yes - the watch," Charlie nodded.

"A man who has been accustomed all his life to carrying a watch in his vest pocket, and then switches to a wrist.w.a.tch is inclined to put his hand to the old location when suddenly asked the time."

"So I noticed," the detective replied.

"I thought you did. What a pity you wasted that experiment on an innocent man."

"There will be more experiments," Chan a.s.sured him.

"I hope so. I may tell you that I purchased a wrist.w.a.tch just before I came on this tour."

"Before you came on the tour." The first word was accented ever so slightly.

"Exactly. I can prove that by Mr. Kennaway. Any time at all."

"For the present, I accept your word," Charlie replied.

"Thank you. I trust I shall be present when you attempt those other experiments."

"Do not worry. You are plenty sure to be there."

"Good. I like to watch you work." And Tait strode debonairly from the room, while Chan stood looking after him.

The investigation was young yet, Charlie thought, as he walked toward his cabin to prepare for lunch. No great progress this morning, but a good beginning. At least he had now a pretty shrewd idea as to the character and capabilities of the people with whom he had to deal. Know them better tomorrow. No place like a s.h.i.+p for getting acquainted.

A boy appeared with a radiogram. Chan opened it and read: "Charlie, as a friend, I implore you to drop the whole matter. I am getting on beautifully and can take up the trail soon myself. Situation is far too dangerous for me to ask such a service of you. Believe me, I was quite delirious when I suggested you carry on. Duff."

Charlie smiled to himself, and sat down at a desk in the library. After due deliberation, he composed an answering message: "You were not delirious last night, but I have deep pain to note you are in such state now. How else could you think I would not pursue to very frontier of my ability this interesting affair? Remain calm, get back health promptly, and meantime I am willing replacement. Hoping you soon regain reason I remain your solid friend, C. Chan."

After lunch, Charlie spent several hours meditating in his cabin. This was a case after his own heart, six long days to ponder it, while the person he sought must stay within easy reach of his hand.

That evening after dinner the detective came upon Pamela Potter and Mark Kennaway having coffee in a corner of the lounge. At the girl's invitation, he joined them.