Chinese -- England -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction
"When did you see Burgh last?"
"At dinner last night. He said nothing about going away, and I quite
believed he would stop on. He's in good quarters here and Miss Pewsey is
paying the bill. But he took a small bag with him, saying he was going
up town for a few days, and left by the nine evening train."
"Ah! He may come back after all."
"He may: but I doubt it. He doesn't want to face an inquiry. You see he
gave the tie to Forge and said nothing about it at the inquest, so that
makes him an accessory after the fact."
"But Burgh didn't know Forge's game."
"No. All the same he should have spoken out at the inquest. Well, and
what is to be done now?"
"Nothing. I'm sick of the whole business. But Forge told me that this
Mandarin, Lo-Keong, holds eight thousand pounds belonging to my father.
I intend to write for it."
Tidman looked doubtful. "I don't think you'll get it," said he, "unless
you produce the fan."
"Oh! I expect Forge has taken that away with him."
"Well then, Tung-yu and Hwei will be on his track, and I shouldn't give
much for his life."
"Wait a bit. He may get the money from Tung-yu."
"If he chances on Tung-yu's day. Queer start that," added the Major
musingly, "the red boy appeared when I just had my big toe cut off and
saved my life. It happened, much the same with you, and Hwei lost his
power, as he was getting ready to kill you. I wonder these two
scoundrels obey the god so slavishly."
"Oh, they are both afraid of the god," said Rupert, rising to take his
leave, "but I must get home. There's nothing more to be discussed."
"Nothing," replied the Major chuckling, "unless it is about that old
cat's disappointment. I'll go up to St. Peter's church and see how she
takes it."
"Of course," said Ainsleigh lingering at the door, "it's her wedding
day. I expect she knows by this time, that Forge has cut."
"I hope not," said the Major cruelly. "I wouldn't lose the fun for
something."
Rupert didn't agree with his callous view of the case, as Miss Pewsey
was a woman after all, although a bad one; and it would be hard that she
should suffer, what she would certainly regard as a public disgrace. So
Rupert avoided St. Peter's Church, and went home again. Here he found
Olivia with a letter.
"This arrived by the early post," she explained, "but you went out so
quickly, that I could not give it to you. Just look at it Rupert, such
beautiful writing."
"A foreigner's evidently," said her husband, looking at the really
elegant calligraphy. "They take more care than we do of their
pot-hook and hangers. Olivia." He started.
"What's the matter?"
Rupert put the envelope under her nose. "Smell it. Don't you recognise
the scent."
"No," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, "it's a strange scent."
"Very, and was used to perfume the letter which Tung-yu sent to
Major Tidman. This may have to do with the fan again."
Olivia looked nervous. "I wish we could hear the last of it," she said.
"It has caused enough trouble already. Open the letter, dear."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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