“There were five men,” said Chan. “Yourself already counted.”
“Five men, yes,” Durand replied. “And five charming girls.”
“Five men—the other four officers, like yourself?” Charlie continued.
“Three of them were officers. One was not.”
Chan’s face lighted. “One was not?”
“No. The party was given in his honor, in a way. You see, he was a famous man—everyone was eager to pay tribute to him. He had just been a guest at the Viceregal Lodge, he’d spoken in the throne-room, and they’d pinned medals and things on him. All India was ringing with his praises. He’d recently come back from a beastly perilous journey through Tibet—”
Chan’s eyes narrowed. “He was an explorer?”
“One of the best. A brave man.”
“You are referring to Colonel John Beetham?”
“Yes, of course. Then you knew?”
Kirk and Miss Morrow sat up with sudden interest. Chan nodded. “I had guessed,” he said. He was silent for a moment. “Colonel Beetham is at this moment in San Francisco,” he added.
“Really?” answered the Major. “An odd coincidence. I should like to meet him again. He was most sympathetic.”
“The party was in his honor, you have said?” Charlie went on.
“Yes—a sort of farewell. You see, he was leaving the next day. Leaving for home, but not by the conventional route—not Beetham. He was going by caravan through the wilds of Afghanistan and across the great salt desert of Persia to Tehran.”
“Through Khyber Pass?” Chan asked.
“Oh, yes—through the Khyber. A dangerous business, but he had a big retinue of servants who had been with him on other expeditions—and the Emir of Afghanistan had invited him. He left early the next morning and I have never seen him since.”
“Early the next morning,” Chan repeated slowly. “Going home.” He stared for a moment at the misty window. “I had hoped to go home in the morning myself. But always something rises up making me break my word to my little son. What a despicable father he will think me. However”—he shrugged—“what is to be, will be.”
Paradise came into the room, pompously wheeling a tea-wagon. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.
“Tea, sir,” said the butler.
“I hope so, I’m sure,” replied Kirk.
Paradise served Miss Morrow, and then turned to Inspector Duff. “What will you have in yours, sir?” he inquired.
The Inspector looked him firmly in the eye. “One lump of sugar,” he said. “And—nothing else.”
XIV
Dinner for Two
With a grave face Paradise served the tea, passed sandwiches and cakes, and then silently withdrew. Barry Kirk paused with his cup at his lips, an inquiring look in his eyes. Inspector Duff saw it and smiled.
“I may tell you,” he said, “that hydrocyanic acid has a quite distinctive odor. A pungent odor of peach blossoms.”
“That’s very good of you,” answered Kirk. “I shall remember what you say. And you, Charlie—you’d better do the same. At the first intimation that we are in a peach orchard, we call up the employment agency and engage a new butler.”
“I have made a note,” Chan told him.
“At any rate,” Kirk continued, “life’s going to be rather a sporting proposition from now on. ‘To be, or not to be: that is the question.’ ”
“We must treat Paradise with kindly consideration,” Chan suggested. “We must bear in mind that a good word has heat enough for three winters, while a hard one wounds like six months of cold. It is going to improve our characters.”
“I’ll say it is,” agreed Kirk. He looked at Major Durand and reflected that perhaps the conversation was a bit flippant in view of that gentleman’s mission in San Francisco. Poor devil—what a life he must have led. Seeking about to include him in the talk, Kirk was able to hit upon nothing save the aged and obvious bromide. “Tell us, Major,” he said. “What do you think of the States?”
“Ah, yes,” replied Durand. “My impressions. Well, really, I’m afraid I can’t be very original. My sole impression so far is one of—er—bigness. Size, you know. My word—your country is tremendous.”
Duff nodded. “We could talk of little else on the train coming out. You can scarcely imagine the effect of America on the minds of men who hail from a country like England. There, a ride of a few miles in any direction and you are on the coast. But here—day after day we looked from the car windows incredulous, amazed. We thought we should never come to the end of our journey.”
“No doubt about it,” Kirk returned, “there’s plenty of the United States. Too much, some people think.”
“We haven’t said that,” Durand reminded him, smiling faintly. “However, the possibilities of such a country seem endless. I may add”—he looked at Miss Morrow—“that I find your young women charming.”
“How very polite of you,” she smiled.
“Oh, not at all. I really mean it. If you will pardon me—I did not quite catch your connection with this affair?”
“I am in the district attorney’s office,” she told him.
“Like our crown prosecutor, the district attorney,” Duff explained. “This young woman is, I believe, a student of the law.”
“My word,” said Durand. “Just fancy. Then it surprises me there is not more respect for law in the States.”
“Thank you,” Miss Morrow answered. “That’s flattering to me, if not to the States.”
Durand rose. “You must forgive me if I run along,” he said. “I have found the long journey somewhat fatiguing—and added to that is the disappointment I suffered a few moments ago. I pretended, of course, that I had no hope, but it wasn’t quite true. As a matter of fact, despite all the false rumors in the past, I still go on hoping. And this time, with the word of a man like Sir Frederic Bruce involved—well, my mind will never be at rest until I have seen the woman who left so suddenly tonight.”
“She may yet be found,” Duff suggested.
“I hope so, I’m sure. Are you coming, old chap?”
“Of course,” Duff replied, rising.
“You and I must have that talk soon, Inspector,” Chan said.
Duff stopped. “Well, I’ve always
