Burma frontier, and if my Chinese is shaky, my Burmese is sound.” He glanced at his watch. “Jenkins is late. Feeling hungry?”
“No.” Tony shook his head. “After my first bath for weeks in a civilized bathroom, a change of clothes and a drink, I feel delightfully relaxed.”
“Good for you. Jenkins has another guest who is probably reveling in a warm bath, too, after a long journey; Jeanie Cameron-Gordon. Her father, an old friend of mine, is the world-famous medical entomologist, Dr. Cameron-Gordon. His big work on sleeping sickness and the
“Whatever brings his daughter here?” Tony wanted to know.
Before Nayland Smith could reply, the stout, smiling and capable resident Chinese housekeeper, whom Tony had met already, came in. She was known simply as Mrs. Wing. She bowed.
“Miss Cameron-Gordon,” she said, in her quaint English, “is dressed, and asks if she should join you, or if you are in a business conference.”
Nayland Smith smiled broadly. “The conference is over, Mrs. Wing. Please ask Miss Jeanie to join us.”
Mrs. Wing bowed again, went out, and a moment later Miss Cameron-Gordon came in, her face shaded by a wide-brimmed hat. She wore a tailored suit of cream shantung which perfectly fitted her perfect figure. Smart suede shoes. She had remarkable grace of movement.
For an interval that couldn’t be measured in terms of time. Tony stood rigid. Then he sprang forward.
Miss Jeanie Cameron-Gordon found herself locked in his arms.
“Moon Flower! Moon Flower!”
“I had an idea,” Nayland Smith said dryly, “that you two might be acquainted . . .
* * *
Ray Jenkins joined them for lunch. He was evidently used to uninvited guests, for he expressed no surprise when Tony and Moon Flower were introduced. A thin man with large, wiry hands, gaunt features, Chinese yellow, and a marked Cockney accent, he had a humorous eye and the self-confidence of a dentist. Moon Flower was reserved and embarrassed, avoiding Tony’s looks of admiration. He felt he was the cause of this and cursed the impulse which had prompted him to betray their intimacy. He didn’t attempt to deny that he was in love with her, but gave a carefully edited account of their meeting and of how he had come to form a deep affection for his native helper.
“I never saw Jeanie in her other kit,” Jenkins said nasally. He called one and all by their first names. “But, looking at her now, Tony, I should say you were nuts not to know she wasn’t Chinese.”
“But I am,” Moon Flower told him, “on my mother’s side.”
Ray Jenkins regarded her for a long time; then: “God’s truth!” he remarked. “Your mother must have been a stunner!”
Nayland Smith threw some light upon what had happened at Lao Tse-Mung’s. He had arrived there several hours ahead of Tony, intending to proceed at speed to Chungking directly Tony showed up. He found the mandarin in an unhappy frame of mind. The daughter of his old friend. Dr. Cameron-Gordon, who had been staying at his house, had disappeared nearly a week before. He suspected that she had gone in search of information about her father, contrary to his, Lao Tse-Mung’s, advice. He had used all the facilities (and they were many) at his disposal, but with no result.
“I’ll leave it to Moon Flower, as you call Jeanie, to tell you the whole story, McKay,” Sir Denis said, with one of his impish grins. “She will tell it better than I can.”
Moon Flower gave him a reproachful, but half-playful glance.
“I was staggered,” he went on. “I had heard in Hong Kong that her father had died in a fire which destroyed the medical mission building. But I supposed that Jeanie was still in England. Unfortunately, I didn’t know that Cameron-Gordon had a married sister in Hong Kong, or I might have been better informed.”
He paused to congratulate Mrs. Wing, who had just come in, upon her cooking, and when that lady, smiling happily, went out, he continued:
“I was discussing the problem of Jeanie’s disappearance with Tse-Mung when his secretary ran in and announced,
“Snappy action was called for. Very cautiously I made my way back toward the entrance gate. From behind a bank of rhododendrons I had the pleasure of seeing my old friend Dr. Fu Manchu, wearing what looked like a Prussian uniform, striding up to the house. A big Nubian, whom I had seen somewhere before, followed him.”
“You probably saw him in Niu-fo-Tu,” Tony broke in. “I was running away from him when you spoke to me!”
“Possibly. Fu Manchu’s car, a Buick, still hot, was in the garage. It was parked alongside a majestic Rolls belonging to Lao Tse-Mung. My old Ford stood ready in the yard. What to do next was a problem. I had to stand by until you arrived. But I had to keep out of the way of Fu Manchu, as well, I thought up several plans to intercept you, when suddenly they were all washed out,’
“What happened?” Tony asked excitedly.
“My walkie-talkie came to life! Tse-Mung’s secretary reported that Jeanie and a Chinese companion, Chi Foh, were in the gate-lodge! I had arranged with Tse-Mung, if I should miss you and you appeared at the house, to direct you to the garage. But I hadn’t expected Jeanie.”
“Heart failure,” Ray Jenkins murmured nasally.
“What?” Nayland Smith demanded.
“I should have had heart failure.”
“No, you wouldn’t. I know you better. You’d have done some fast thinking, as I did. I told Sun Shao-Tung, the secretary, to send me a driver who knew the way to Chungking, to order the man to stand by the Ford in the garage. Then I headed for the gate lodge. Mat Cha, the gardener’s widow, who lives there—we are old friends— after she recovered from her surprise, told me that Moon Flower (as she had always called Jeanie), was in the bedroom sorting out some clothes which she had left with Mai Cha to be cleaned and pressed . . . I had Moon Flower away with her bundle of dresses, inside five minutes. Am I right, Jeanie?”
“Yes,” Moon Flower agreed, and her eyes told the story of her gratitude. “You certainly drove me remorselessly!”
“And so here you are! God knows where you’d be if Dr. Fu Manchu had found you. The driver was standing by, as ordered, and off you went in my Ford to Ray Jenkins, a harbor in any storm.”
“Thanks a lot,” Ray Jenkins said. “Drinks all round, if I may say so. Keep a pretty good cellar, Denis.”
“Your absence, McKay,” Sir Denis added, “was an unexpected headache. But you have told me how Tse- Mung handled a difficult situation. You took your cues perfectly. And so, for the moment, Dr. Fu Manchu is baffled . . .”
* * *
On the flower-covered porch of the bungalow, with a prospect of snowy poppy fields below extending to the distant foothills, Tony at last found himself alone with Moon Flower. She lay beside him, in a long cane chair, smoking a cigarette and no longer evading his looks of adoration.
“We’re a pair of terrible liars, aren’t we?” she said softly; and the sound of her musical voice speaking English made his heart glad.
“I’m still in a maze, Moon Flower. I seem to have come out of a wonderful dream. And I still don’t know where the dream ends and real life begins. I know, of course, that you’re not a Chinese girl and you know I’m not a fisherman from Hong Kong. I never suspected that you weren’t what you pretended to be, but I often thought you had doubts about me.”
“How right you were, Chi Foh. (I like Chi Foh better than Tony.) But it was a long time before doubts came. That part is all over now, and I think I’m sorry.”
Tony reached across urgently: grasped her arm. “You don’t regret an hour of it, Moon Flower? Tell me you don’t.”
“Not one minute,” she whispered.
“You know I learned to adore you as Yueh Hua, don’t you? I had planned to risk everything and to marry my little river girl. In my heart, anyway, I shall always call you Yueh Hua—”
“And to me, Tony, you will always be Chi Foh.”
