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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