“Perfectly. I shall hope, however, for your early success.”
“We all hope for it.”
“Of course.” Beetham turned to Inspector Duff. “A frightful thing. Sir Frederic was a charming fellow—”
“And much beloved,” said Duff evenly. “Please don’t worry. Everything possible is being done, Colonel Beetham.”
“I am happy to hear that.” Beetham rose. “Now—if there’s nothing more—”
“Not at present,” said Flannery.
“Thank you so much,” replied the Colonel, and went debonairly out.
Flannery stared after him. “He lies like a gentleman, don’t he?” he remarked.
“Beautifully,” sighed Miss Morrow, her eyes on the door through which the explorer had gone.
“Well, he don’t fool me,” Flannery continued. “He knows more about this than he’s telling. If he was anybody but the famous Colonel Beetham, I’d take a chance and lock him up this morning.”
“Oh, but you couldn’t,” the girl cried.
“I suppose not. I’d be mobbed by all the club women in the Bay District. However, I don’t need to. He’s too well known to make a getaway. But I’d better keep him shadowed, at that. Now, let’s get to business. If only Li Gung was here, I’d sweat something out of him. What was that Sir Frederic told you, Sergeant? About Li Gung’s relatives in Jackson Street? I might look them up.”
“No use,” Chan answered. “I have already done so.”
“Oh, you have? Without a word to me, of course—”
“Words of no avail. I made most pitiful failure. I am admitted to house, but plans are foiled by kind act of boy scout—”
“A boy scout in the family, eh?”
“Yes—name of Willie Li. The family of Henry Li, Oriental Apartment House.”
Flannery considered. “Well, the young generation will talk, if the old one won’t. Willie ought to have a chance.”
“He has obtained it. He tells me little—save that once on a hard journey Colonel Beetham kills a man.”
“He told you that? Then he knows something about Beetham’s journeys?”
“Undubitably he does. He has overheard talk—”
Flannery jumped up. “That’s enough for me, I’ll have Manley of the Chinatown Squad bring the kid here tonight. They’re all crazy about Manley, these Chink kids. We’ll get something.”
The telephone rang. Flannery answered, and then relinquished it to Miss Morrow. As she listened to the news coming over the wire, her eyes brightened with excitement. She hung up the receiver and turned to the others.
“That was the district attorney,” she announced. “We’ve got hold of a letter mailed to Mrs. Tupper-Brock from Santa Barbara. It was written by Grace Lane, and it gives her present address.”
“Fine business,” Flannery cried. “I told you she couldn’t get away from me. I’ll get a couple of men off in a car right away.” He looked at Miss Morrow. “They can stop at your office for the address.”
She nodded. “I’m going right back. I’ll give it to them.”
Flannery rubbed his hands. “Things are looking up at last! Make it seven tonight—I’ll have the kid here then. Sergeant—you’re coming. I may want your help. And you can look in if you like, Inspector.”
“Thanks,” Duff said.
“How about me?” asked Miss Morrow.
He frowned at her. “I’m not so pleased with you. All those secrets—”
“But I’m so sorry.” She smiled at him. “And I was a little help to you in finding Grace Lane, you know.”
“I guess you were, at that. Sure—come along, if you want to.”
The party scattered, and Charlie Chan went back to the bungalow, where he found Barry Kirk eagerly awaiting news. When he heard the plan for the evening, Kirk insisted on taking Miss Morrow and Chan to dinner. At six thirty they left the obscure little restaurant he had selected because of its capable chef, and strolled toward the Hall of Justice.
The night was clear and cool, without fog, and the stars were bright as torches overhead. They skirted the fringe of Chinatown and passed on through Portsmouth Square, the old Plaza of romantic history. It was emptied now of its usual derelicts and adventurers; the memorial to R. L. S. stood lonely and serene in the starlight.
Flannery and Duff were waiting in the former’s office. The Captain regarded Barry Kirk without enthusiasm.
“We’re all here, ain’t we?” he inquired.
“I thought you wouldn’t mind,” smiled Kirk.
“Oh, well—it’s all right. I guess it’s pretty late now to bar you out.” He turned to Miss Morrow. “You saw Petersen, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I gave him the address.”
“He had Myers with him. Good men, both of them. They’ll be in Santa Barbara this evening, and can start back at sunrise. Barring accidents, they’ll bring Grace Lane into this office late tomorrow afternoon. And if she gets away from me again, she’ll be going some.”
They sat down. Presently a huge police officer in plain clothes, with a khaki shirt, came in. He was kindly and smiling, but he had the keen eye of a man who is prepared for any emergency. Flannery introduced him.
“Sergeant Manley,” he explained. “Head of the Chinatown Squad for seven years—which is a good many years longer than anyone else has lived to hold that job.”
Manley’s manner was cordial. “Glad to meet you,” he said. “I’ve got the kid outside, Captain. I picked him up and brought him along without giving him a chance to run home for instructions.”
“Good idea,” Flannery nodded. “Will he talk?”
“Oh, he’ll talk all right. He and I are old friends. I’ll bring him in.”
He disappeared into the outer office and returned with Willie Li. The boy scout was in civilian clothes, and looked as though he would have welcomed the moral support of his uniform.
“Here you are, Willie,” Manley said. “This is Captain Flannery. He’s going to ask you to do him a big favor.”
“Sure,” grinned Willie Li.
“All boy scouts,” Manley went on, “are American citizens, and they stand for law and order. That’s right, ain’t it, Willie?”
“In the oath,” replied Willie gravely.
“I’ve explained to him,” Manley continued, “that none of his family is mixed up in this in any way. They won’t be harmed by anything he tells you.”
“That’s right,” said Flannery. “You can take my
