“Very good,” Durand answered. “I have engaged a room for you at the St. Francis Hotel. I trust you’ll approve of my choice.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” Duff told him. “I’ll see you shortly.”
Durand turned to Barry Kirk. “You’ve been very hospitable to a stranger.”
“Not at all,” Kirk said. “You must drop in often. I hope you won’t be lonely here. I’ll send you a card for a club or two, and if you like, we’ll have a little party occasionally.”
“Frightfully kind, I’m sure,” Durand replied warmly. “A thousand thanks.” He added his farewells and went out.
“Poor man,” Miss Morrow said.
“A nice chap,” Duff remarked. He turned briskly to Charlie. “But this isn’t getting us forward, Sergeant. Where shall we begin? I learned from Captain Flannery that no records of any case were found among Sir Frederic’s effects?”
“None whatsoever,” Chan corroborated.
“Then it looks like theft as well as murder, for unquestionably such records were kept. Somewhere—unless they have been destroyed by the same hand that killed Sir Frederic—there must be in existence detailed accounts of the Hilary Galt case, as well as the disappearance of Eve Durand—”
“You have heard that, in Sir Frederic’s thinking, these two matters boast some obscure connection?” Chan asked.
Duff nodded. “Yes, I saw the copy of the letter from my Chief at the Yard. I should say from the sound of it that he’s as much in the dark as we are. But I have already cabled him for any information he may have.”
“You act with beautiful speed,” Chan approved. “One thing this Major Durand has told us puts new face on whole matter. Up to now, it was entirely unknown round here that Colonel John Beetham attended picnic that unforgotten night at Peshawar.”
“What about Beetham? He’s in San Francisco, you say?”
“Very much so. He was present at dinner. A strange, silent, mind-beguiling man.”
Miss Morrow spoke suddenly. “Why, of course,” she cried. “Colonel Beetham at the picnic—that means he knew Eve Durand. On the night he came here to dinner, he must have been brought up in the elevator by little Jennie Jerome Marie Lantelme. If she was Eve Durand, he probably recognized her.”
“Undubitably,” Chan agreed.
“Why, that makes it all very simple,” Miss Morrow continued. “I’ll get hold of him at once, and ask him—”
Chan raised his hand. “Humbly begging pardon to cut in—would you ask a blind man the road?”
“Why—I—what do you mean?”
“I have known for some days that the Colonel was in neighborhood of Peshawar that early May, 1913. Until tonight I did not dream he was member of picnic party. Even so, the last act I would consider would be to make inquiries.”
“Surely you don’t think—”
“I have not decided what to think. A member of that party—the fact may mean much, or it may mean nothing at all. On chance that it means much, let us say nothing to the Colonel just yet. To do so might defeat our own ends. There was once a man who pinched the baby while rocking the cradle. His work was not regarded a very large success.”
Miss Morrow smiled. “I shall take your advice, of course.”
“Thank you. Before we act, permit that I dig about some more amid events of past.” Chan turned to the Inspector. “Dropping the Colonel for the moment, I mention those velvet slippers.”
“Yes,” said Duff. “The velvet slippers. A bit of a mystery, they are. Carried off by the murderer, it seems. But why? And what did he—or she—do with them? It’s not unreasonable to suppose they were hurriedly chucked away somewhere. In England, we have a system in such a case—we advertise and offer a reward.”
“Splendid idea,” agreed Chan.
“Surely Captain Flannery has thought of it?”
Chan shrugged. “Captain acts much like little child caught in cross-woven net. He can only struggle, always getting deeper. But I must restrain my criticism. Free to admit the plan had not occurred even to me.”
Duff laughed. “Well, I’ll look the Captain up after dinner and suggest that he try it. By the way, I’m quite at a loss—the city is new to me. Could I prevail on you, Sergeant, to dine with me? We can talk things over, and afterward you can show me about, and direct me to Flannery’s office.”
“Deeply pleased at the invitation,” Chan beamed. “I have much to learn. Where better could I study than in your distinguished company?”
“Well—er—that’s a bit strong,” returned Duff. “However, we’ll have a jolly little dinner. Any time you’re ready—”
“I procure hat and coat with instant action,” Chan replied.
Duff turned to Kirk and the girl. “Great pleasure to meet you both,” he said. “Miss Morrow, to work with a charming young woman on a case will be a new experience for me—and a delightful one.”
“You must think it an utterly ridiculous situation,” she remarked.
“I haven’t said so,” he smiled.
Chan returned, and he and Duff went out together. Miss Morrow took up her coat.
“Just a minute,” Kirk protested. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” she told him.
“To a lonely dinner,” he suggested.
“You needn’t hint. I can’t invite you tonight. I shall need loads of time to prepare that pie—”
“Of course. I wasn’t hinting. But oddly enough, I’ve gone sort of cold on the idea of dining here in my cozy little nest. I propose to go where there are lights, laughter, and a waiter I can trust. And unless you prove more cruel than you look, I’m not dining alone.”
“But I really should go home—and freshen up.”
“Nonsense—you’re blooming now. Like a peach tree covered with blossoms—I wonder how I came to think of that? No matter—will you join me?”
“If you want me to.”
Kirk rang the bell, and Paradise appeared at once. “Ah—er—I’m dining out tonight,” the young man explained.
Paradise looked distressed. “Very good, sir. But if I may make so bold—”
“Yes—what is it?”
“I trust this is not a sign of waning confidence in me, sir? I have been hoping for the old relations between us—”
“Nonsense. I often dine out. You
