Chinese -- England -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction
"I apologise," said Tidman, seeing nothing else was to be done.
"Apology isn't money," snapped Miss Pewsey.
"Oh, if you want money, again I refer you to the fan."
The Major was getting angry. He didn't very much care if Miss Pewsey did
bring an action at the moment, though with saner thoughts he would have
been horrified at the idea. "I apologise," said he again, "but I was
misled by Dr. Forge."
"How were you misled by me?" demanded Forge impassively.
"You said you had the fan in your cabinet, and that it had been stolen.
Mrs. Bressy swore she did not take it, and I thought--"
"That I was the thief," cried Miss Pewsey shrilly, "oh how clever of
you--how very, very clever. You thought that I got the key from the
watch-chain of Dr. Forge where he always carries it, to open the cabinet
and steal a fan, I knew nothing about it. I never even knew of the
existence of the fan--there Judas," snapped the lady once more.
"Then I was mistaken, and Dr. Forge was mistaken also."
"I confess that I did make a mistake," said the doctor with a sad face,
"but that does not excuse your libelling the lady I hope to call my
wife. My memory is not so good as it was, and I fear that the drugs I
take to induce sleep have impaired what memory I have left. I suffer
from neuralgia," added the doctor turning to Miss Pewsey, "and in China
I contracted the habit of opium smoking, so--"
"Marriage will put that right," said the lady patting his hand. "I do
not expect a perfect husband--"
"I never knew you expected a husband at all," said Tidman injudiciously.
"Ho," cried Miss Pewsey drawing herself up. She had been standing all
the time, "another libel. I call Dr. Forge to witness it."
"I really think Tidman you'd better hold your tongue," said the doctor
gently, "but I must explain, that I quite forgot that I had parted with
the fan. Yes. I received it from you, seven years ago when I brought you
home after that adventure in Canton. Two years later I returned to
China, to see Lo-Keong on business, and I took the fan with me. He
received it."
"No," said the Major shaking his bald head, "I can't believe that,
Forge. You declared that you hated Lo-Keong and that the fan would harm
you and him also."
"I do hate the man," cried Forge looking more like a bird of prey than
ever, "but I got a concession about a gold mine, by giving back the fan.
I wanted the money more than Lo-Keong's life. As to my own life, it was
in danger from the enemies of the Mandarin, who want the fan to ruin
him. That was why I spoke as I did. Are you satisfied?"
"Not quite," said Tidman who was puzzled, "how did the fan come to
England again?"
"My nephew Mr. Burgh will tell you that," said Miss Pewsey, "when he has
administered the beating I have asked him to inflict."
"Beating," shouted the Major snatching a knife from the breakfast table,
"let that young whelp dare to hint such a thing, and I'll kick him round
Marport."
"Clarence is not the man to be kicked."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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