The Greatest Works of Earl Derr Biggers (Illustrated Edition). Earl Derr Biggers
Читать онлайн книгу.
one. Mr. Thorn, another suggestion occurs. Take handkerchief and bind up wounded hand of chief."
Thorn produced a handkerchief and Madden held out his hand. "What the devil are we waiting for?" snarled the millionaire.
"We await come back of Mr. Bob Eden," replied Chan. "I am having much to impart when he arrives."
Thorn completed his act of mercy, and slunk back to his chair. The tall clock by the patio windows ticked on. With the patience characteristic of his race Chan sat, staring at his odd assortment of captives. Fifteen minutes passed, a half-hour, the minute hand began its slow advance toward the hour of nine.
Victor Jordan shifted uneasily in his chair. Such disrespect to a man worth millions! "You're clear out of your mind, Charlie," he protested.
"Maybe," admitted Chan. "We wait and see."
Presently a car rattled into the yard. Chan nodded. "Long wait nearly over," he announced. "Now Mr. Eden comes."
His expression altered as a knock sounded on the door. It was pushed open and a man strode bruskly in. A stocky, red-faced, determined man—Captain Bliss of the Homicide Squad. After him came another, a lean wiry individual in a two-quart hat. They stood amazed at the scene before them.
Madden leaped to his feet. "Captain Bliss. By gad, I'm delighted to see you. You're just in time."
"What's all this?" inquired the lean man.
"Mr. Madden," said Bliss, "I've brought along Harley Cox, Sheriff of the County. I guess you need us here."
"We sure do," replied Madden. "This Chinaman has gone crazy. Take that gun away from him and put him under arrest."
The sheriff stepped up to Charlie Chan. "Give me the firearms, John," he ordered. "You know what that means—a Chinaman with a gun in California. Deportation. Good lord—he's got two of them."
"Sheriff," said Charlie with dignity. "Permit me the honor that I introduce myself. I am Detective-Sergeant Chan, of the Honolulu Police."
The sheriff laughed. "You don't say. Well, I'm the Queen of Sheba. Are you going to give me that other gun, or do you want a charge of resisting an officer?"
"I do not resist," said Chan. He gave up his own weapon. "I only call to your attention I am fellow policeman, and I yearn to save you from an error you will have bitter cause to regret."
"I'll take the chance. Now, what's going on here?" The sheriff turned to Madden. "We came about that Louie Wong killing. Bliss saw this Chinaman on a train last night with the fellow named Eden, all dolled up in regular clothes and as chummy as a brother."
"You're on the right trail now, Sheriff," Madden assured him. "There's no doubt he killed Louie. And just at present he has somewhere about him a string of pearls belonging to me. Please take them away from him."
"Sure, Mr. Madden," replied the sheriff. He advanced to make a search, but Chan forestalled him. He handed him the necklace.
"I give it to your keeping," he said. "You are officer of law and responsible. Attend your step."
Cox regarded the pearls. "Some string, ain't it? Kinda pretty, Mr. Madden. You say it belongs to you?"
"It certainly does—"
"Sheriff," pleaded Charlie, with a glance at the clock, "if I may make humble suggestion, go slow. You will kick yourself angrily over vast expanse of desert should you make blunder now."
"But if Mr. Madden says these pearls are his—"
"They are," said Madden. "I bought them from a jeweler named Eden in San Francisco ten days ago. They belonged to the mother of Mr. Jordan here."
"That's quite correct," admitted Victor.
"It's enough for me," remarked the sheriff.
"I tell you I am of the Honolulu Police—" protested Chan.
"Maybe so, but do you think I'd take your word against that of a man like P.J. Madden? Mr. Madden, here are your pearls."
"One moment," cried Chan. "This Madden says he is the same who bought the necklace at San Francisco jeweler's. Ask him, please, location of jeweler's store."
"On Post Street," said Madden.
"What part Post Street? Famous building across way. What building?"
"Officer," objected Madden, "must I submit to this from a Chinese cook? I refuse to answer. The pearls are mine—"
Victor Jordan's eyes were open wide. "Hold on," he said. "Let me in this. Mr. Madden, my mother told me of the time when you first saw her. You were employed then—where—in what position?"
Madden's face purpled. "That's my affair."
The sheriff removed his ample hat and scratched his head. "Well, maybe I better keep this trinket for a minute," he reflected. "Look here, John—or—er—Sergeant Chan, if that's your name—what the devil are you driving at, anyhow?"
He turned suddenly at a cry from Madden. The man had edged his way to the array of guns on the wall, and stood there now, with one of them in his bandaged hand.
"Come on," he cried, "I've had enough of this. Up with your hands—Sheriff, that means you! Gamble—get that necklace! Thorn—get the bag in my room!"
With a magnificent disregard for his own safety, Chan leaped upon him and seized the arm holding the pistol. He gave it a sharp twist, and the weapon fell to the floor.
"Only thing I am ever able to learn from Japanese," he said. "Captain Bliss, prove yourself real policeman by putting handcuffs on Thorn and the professor. If the sheriff will so kindly return my personal automatic, which I employ as detective in Hawaii, I will be responsible for this Madden here."
"Sure, I'll return it," said Cox. "And I want to congratulate you. I don't know as I ever saw a finer exhibition of courage—"
Chan grinned. "Pardon me if I make slight correction. One recent morning at dawn I have busy time removing all cartridges from this splendid collection of old-time pistols on the wall. Long dusty job, but I am glad I did it." He turned suddenly to the big man beside him. "Put up the hands, Delaney," he cried.
"Delaney?" repeated the sheriff.
"Undubitably," replied Chan. "You have questioned value of my speech against word of P.J. Madden. Happy to say that situation does not arise. This is not P.J. Madden. His name is Jerry Delaney."
Bob Eden had entered quietly from the patio. "Good work, Charlie," he said. "You've got it now. But how in Sam Hill did you know?"
"Not long ago," answered Chan, "I shoot gun from his grasp. Observe the bandage on his hand, and note it is the left. Once in this room I told you Delaney was left-handed."
Through the open door behind Eden came a huge, powerful, but weary-looking man. One of his arms was in a sling, and his face was pale beneath a ten days' growth of beard. But there was about him an air of authority and poise; he loomed like a tower of granite, though the gray suit was sadly rumpled now. He stared grimly at Delaney.
"Well, Jerry," he said, "you're pretty good. But they always told me you were—the men who ran across you at Jack McGuire's. Yes—very good, indeed. Standing in my house, wearing my clothes, you look more like me than I do myself."
Chapter XXII. The Road to Eldorado
The Man at the door came farther into the room and looked inquiringly about him. His eyes fell on Thorn.
"Hello, Martin," he said. "I warned you it wouldn't work. Which of you gentlemen is the sheriff?"
Cox came forward. "Right here, sir. I suppose you're P.J. Madden?"
Madden nodded. "I suppose so. I've always thought I was. We telephoned