Charlie shrugged. “Why should I trouble you? The matter appears to mean nothing. True enough, I might make a surmise—a most picturesque surmise. But I see you, Captain, floundering about in difficult murder case. Should I ask such a man to come with me and gaze upon the bright tapestry of romance?”
“Whatever that means,” Flannery returned. “If I hadn’t got that Barr girl in, I’d still be in the dark. I was too smart for you—I hit on Beetham’s trail myself—but that doesn’t excuse you. I’m disappointed in the pair of you.”
“Overwhelmed with painful regret,” Chan bowed.
“Oh, forget it.” A man in uniform ushered Colonel Beetham into the room.
The Colonel knew a good tailor, a tailor who no doubt rejoiced in the trim, lithe figure of his client. He was faultlessly attired, with a flower in his buttonhole, a stick in his gloved hand. For a moment he stood, those tired eyes that had looked on so many lonely corners of the world unusually alert and keen.
“Good morning,” he said. He bowed to Miss Morrow and Chan. “Ah—this, I believe, is Captain Flannery—”
“Morning,” replied Flannery. “Meet Inspector Duff, of Scotland Yard.”
“Delighted,” Beetham answered. “I am very happy to see a man from the Yard. No doubt the search for Sir Frederic’s murderer will get forward now.”
“I guess it will,” growled Flannery, “if you answer a few questions for us—and tell the truth—”
The Colonel raised his eyebrows very slightly. “The truth, of course,” he remarked, with a wan smile. “I shall do my best. May I sit down?”
“Sure,” replied Flannery, indicating a dusty chair. “On the night Sir Frederic was killed, you were giving a magic lantern show on the floor above—”
“I should hardly have called it that. Motion pictures, you know, of Tibet—”
“Yes, yes. You did a lecture with these lantern slides, but toward the end you dropped out and let the performance run itself. Later Miss Morrow here asked you—what was it you asked him, Miss Morrow?”
“I referred to that moment when he left the machine,” the girl said. “He assured me that he had not been absent from the room during the interval.”
The Captain looked at Beetham. “Is that right, Colonel?”
“Yes—I fancy that is what I told her.”
“Why?”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“Why did you tell her that when you knew damn well you had been down on the twentieth floor talking with a Chinaman?”
Beetham laughed softly. “Have you never done anything that you later regretted, Captain? The matter struck me as of no importance—I had seen nothing of note on my brief jaunt below. I had a sort of inborn diffidence about being involved in the scandal. So I very foolishly made a slight—er—misstatement.”
“Then you did go down to the twentieth floor?”
“Only for a second. You see, a motion-picture projector and seven reels of film make a rather heavy load. My old boy, Li Gung, had assisted me in bringing the outfit to Mr. Kirk’s apartment. I thought I should be finished by ten, and I told him to be back then. When I left the machine at fifteen minutes past ten, I realized that I still had another reel to show. I ran downstairs, found Gung waiting on the lower floor, and told him to go home. I said I would carry the machine away myself.”
“Ah, yes—and he left?”
“He went at once, in the lift. The lift girl can verify my statement—if—”
“If what?”
“If she will.”
“You were going to say—if we can find her.”
“Why should I say that. Isn’t she about?”
“She is not. In her absence, maybe Li Gung can back up your story?”
“I’m sure he can—if you care to cable him. He is in Honolulu at the moment.”
“He left the next noon, on the Maui?”
“Yes, he did.”
“You saw him off?”
“Naturally. He has been with me more than twenty years. A faithful chap.”
“When you said goodbye, you told him to lie low over in Hawaii.”
“Yes, I—yes, I did. You see, there was some trouble about his passport. I was fearful he might get into difficulties.”
“You also told him to answer no questions.”
“For the same reason, of course.”
“You knew he would have to show his passport on landing. If it wasn’t OK did you suppose lying low after that would do any good?”
“Show his passport at another American port? Really, you know, I’m frightfully ignorant of your many rules and regulations. Quite confusing, I find them.”
“You must—a man who’s traveled as little as you have, Colonel.”
“Ah, yes. Now you’re being sarcastic.”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Flannery said. “We’ll drop Li Gung. But I’m not through yet. I understand you were at Peshawar, in India, on the night of May third, nineteen hundred and thirteen.”
Beetham nodded slowly. “That is a matter of record.”
“And can’t very well be denied, eh? You went out into the hills on a picnic. One of the party was a woman named Eve Durand.” Beetham stirred slightly. “That night Eve Durand disappeared and has never been seen since. Have you any idea how she got out of India?”
“If she has never been seen since, how do you know she did get out of India?”
“Never mind. I’m asking you questions. You remember the incident?”
“Naturally. A shocking affair.”
Flannery studied him for a moment. “Tell me, Colonel—had you ever met Sir Frederic before the other night at Barry Kirk’s bungalow?”
“Never. Stop a bit. I believe he said he had been at a dinner of the Royal Geographical Society in London, and had seen me there. But I did not recall the meeting.”
“You didn’t know that he had come to San Francisco to find Eve Durand?”
“Had he really? How extraordinary.”
“You didn’t know it?”
“Of course not.”
“Could you have given him any help if you had?”
“I could not,” replied Beetham firmly.
“All right, Colonel. You’re not thinking of leaving San Francisco soon?”
“In a few days—when I have completed arrangements for my next long expedition.”
“You’re not leaving until we find out who killed Sir Frederic. Is that understood?”
“But, my dear fellow—surely you don’t think—”
“I think your
