Chinese -- England -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction
Miss Wharf hesitated. Her avarice was aroused by the hope of getting rid
of a trifle for five thousand pounds but she did not wish to risk
herself alone with a blood-thirsty celestial. "If you will come also,"
she said, hesitating.
Tung-yu reflected. "Madam, I will be plain with you," he said gravely,
"as I am here, I can act on behalf of my friend Hwei--but to-morrow."
Miss Wharf tendered the fan. "Why not take it to-night and give me a
cheque," she said quickly.
"To-morrow," replied the Chinaman, rising and bowing politely, "I will
call on you, if you will permit me. Mr. Walker will show me the way. I
will then arrange to buy the fan at a price to which you will not
object. Meanwhile--" he bowed again and gravely departed.
Miss Wharf, rather annoyed and surprised by this behaviour, looked round
for Miss Pewsey, to whom she was accustomed to tell everything. The
little woman appeared at that moment pushing her way through the crowd
in a state of excitement. "Oh, Sophia!" she said, throwing herself down.
"Oh, Sophia."
"What's the matter?" asked Miss Wharf coldly.
"I might ask you," said Miss Pewsey, parrying the question, "you look so
upset, my Sophia."
"It is with pleasure then," said the old maid, dryly, "I have arranged
to sell this fan to-morrow for five thousand pounds."
"Oh," Miss Pewsey clasped her hand, "What joy; you will be able to add
to your income. But, Sophia, I really can't keep it any longer. That
Major Tidman----"
"Well. What about him?"
"Mr. Ainsleigh said he had a cold and was confined to his room. I went
up to see, as I don't trust that Major a bit. He's so wicked. I went to
his room, and peeped in. Sophia," added Miss Pewsey in a tragic manner.
"He is not there--the room is empty!"
CHAPTER IX
THE END OF THE BALL
Miss Wharf looked at her excited little friend with an indulgent smile.
"Really I don't see why you should trouble," she said with a smile. "Let
the Major do what he likes."
"He's up to some mischief," persisted the old maid, "and I'd like to
find out what it is. He is supposed to be keeping his room, because of a
cold, and I find he is not in. People with colds," added the lady,
impressively, "do not go into the night air."
"How do you know Major Tidman has?"
"Because he would be at the ball, were he in the hotel. I shall ask
Clarence to see what he is doing."
"Why?" asked Miss Wharf, puzzled.
"Because--oh, just because," replied Miss Pewsey, tossing her head in a
sharp way, like the Red Queen in Alice's Adventures. "But the fan,
dearest Sophia?--Can't I take charge of it?"
Miss Wharf grasped the fan tighter. "No, certainly not. It is worth five
thousand pounds."
"And perhaps more," said Miss Pewsey. "Remember, dearest Sophia, that is
the sum offered, but you might ask more. It is very important that this
Mandarin should get the fan back. Dr. Forge told me."
"Why is it important?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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