The Greatest Works of Earl Derr Biggers (Illustrated Edition). Earl Derr Biggers
Читать онлайн книгу.
Good-bys and final admonitions filled the air.
A steward stepped forward and took Chan's bag. "Hello, Sergeant," he said. "Going home, eh? What room, please?"
Chan told him, then turned to the young people at his side. "At thought of your kindness," he remarked, "I am choking. Words escape me. I can only say—good-by."
"Give my regards to the youngest Chan," said Kirk. "Perhaps I'll see him some day."
"Reminding me," returned Chan, "that only this morning I scour my brain to name him. With your kind permission, I will denote him Barry Chan."
"I'm very much flattered," Kirk answered gravely. "Wish to heaven I had something to send him—er—a mug—or a what-you-may-call-it. You'll hear from me later."
"I only trust," Chan said, "he grows up worthy of his name. Miss Morrow— I am leaving on this dock my heartiest good wishes—"
She looked at him oddly. "Thank you," she remarked in a cool voice. "I wish you could have stayed, Mr. Chan. But of course I realize your point of view. The case was too difficult. For once, Charlie Chan is running away. I'm afraid the famous Sergeant of the Honolulu police has lost face to-day."
A startled expression crossed that usually bland countenance. For a long moment Chan looked at her with serious eyes, then he bowed, very stiffly. "I wish you good-by," he said, and walked with offended dignity up the gang-plank.
Kirk was staring at the girl in amazement. "Don't look at me like that," she cried ruefully. "It was cruel, but it was my last chance. I'd tried everything else. Well, it didn't work. Shall we go?"
"Oh—let's wait," pleaded Kirk. "They're sailing in a minute. I always get a thrill out of it. Look—up there on the top deck." He nodded toward a pretty girl in gray, with a cluster of orchids pinned to her shoulder. "A bride, if you ask me. And I suppose that vacant-faced idiot at her side is the lucky man."
Miss Morrow looked, without interest.
"A great place for a honeymoon, Hawaii," went on Kirk. "I've often thought—I hope I'm not boring you?"
"Not much," she said.
"I know. Brides leave you cold. I suppose divorce is more in your line. You and Blackstone. Well, you shan't blast my romantic young nature." He took out a handkerchief and waved it toward the girl on the top deck. "So long, my dear," he called. "All the luck in the world."
"I don't see Mr. Chan," said the young woman from the district attorney's office.
Mr. Chan was sitting thoughtfully on the edge of the berth in his stateroom, far below. The great happiness of his long anticipated departure for home had received a rude jolt. Running away—was that it? Afraid of a difficult case? Did Miss Morrow really think that? If she did, then he had lost face indeed.
His gloomy reactions were interrupted by a voice in the next stateroom— a voice he had heard before. His heart stood still as he listened.
"I fancy that's all, Li," said the familiar voice. "You have your passport, your money. You are simply to wait for me in Honolulu. Better lie low there."
"I will do so," replied a high-pitched, singsong voice.
"And if any one asks any questions, you know nothing. Understand?"
"Yes-s-s. I am silent. I understand."
"Very good. You're a wonderful servant, Li Gung. I don't like to flatter you, you grinning beggar, but I couldn't do without you. Good-by—and a pleasant journey."
Chan was on his feet now, peering out into the dim passageway along which opened the rooms on the lowest deck. In that faint light he saw a familiar figure emerge from the room next door, and disappear in the distance.
The detective stood for a moment, undecided. Of all the guests at Barry Kirk's party, one had interested him beyond all others—almost to the exclusion of the others. The tall, grim, silent man who had made his camps throughout the wastelands of the world, who had left a trail of the dead but who had always moved on, relentlessly, toward his goal. Colonel John Beetham, whom he had just seen emerging from the stateroom next to his with a last word of farewell to Li Gung.
Chan looked at his watch. It was never his habit to hurry, but he must hurry now. He sighed a great sigh that rattled the glasses in their rings, and snatched up his bag. On the saloon deck he met the purser.
"Homeward bound, Charlie?" inquired that gentleman breezily.
"So I thought," replied Chan, "but it seems I was mistaken. At the last moment, I am rudely wrenched ashore. Yet I have ticket good only on this boat."
"Oh, they'll fix that up for you at the office. They all know you, Charlie."
"Thanks for the suggestion. My trunk is already loaded. Will you kindly deliver same to my oldest son, who will call for it when you have docked at Honolulu?"
"Sure." The "visitors ashore" call was sounding for the last time. "Don't you linger too long on this wicked mainland, Charlie," the purser admonished.
"One week only," called Chan, over his shoulder. "Until the next boat. I swear it."
On the dock, Miss Morrow seized Kirk's arm. "Look. Coming down the gang-plank. Colonel Beetham. What's he doing here?"
"Beetham—sure enough," said Kirk. "Shall I offer him a lift? No—he's got a taxi. Let him go. He's a cold proposition—I like him not." He watched the Colonel enter a cab and ride off.
When he turned back to the Maui, two husky sailors were about to draw up the plank. Suddenly between them appeared a chubby little figure, one hand clutching a suitcase. Miss Morrow gave a cry of delight.
"It's Chan," Kirk said. "He's coming ashore."
And ashore Charlie came, while they lifted the plank at his heels. He stood before the two young people, ill at ease.
"Moment of gentle embarrassment for me," he said. "The traveler who said good-by is back before he goes."
"Mr. Chan," the girl cried, "you dear! You're going to help us, after all."
Chan nodded. "To the extent of my very slight ability, I am with you to finish, bitter or sweet."
On the top deck of the Maui the band began to play—Aloha, that most touching of farewells. Long streamers of bright-colored paper filled the air. The last good-bye, the final admonitions—a loud voice calling "Don't forget to write." Charlie Chan watched, a mist before his eyes. Slowly the boat drew away from the pier. The crowd ran along beside it, waving frantically. Charlie's frame shook with another ponderous sigh.
"Poor little Barry Chan," he said. "He would have been happy to see me. Captain Flannery will not be so happy. Let us ride away into the face of our problems."
Chapter VI. The Guest Detective
BARRY KIRK tossed Chan's suitcase into the luggage compartment of his roadster, and the trio crowded again onto its single seat. The car swung about in the pier shed and emerged into the bright sunlight of the Embarcadero.
"You are partially consumed with wonder at my return?" suggested Chan.
The girl shrugged. "You're back. That's enough for me."
"All the same, I will confess my shame. It seems I have circulated so long with mainland Americans I have now, by contagion, acquired one of their worst faults. I too suffer curiosity. Event comes off on boat which reveals, like heavenly flash, my hidden weakness."
"Something happened on the boat?" Miss Morrow inquired.
"You may believe it did. On my supposed farewell ride through city, I inform you of Li Gung. I tell you he must be questioned. He can not be questioned now."
"No? Why not?"
"Because