Suddenly he wheeled about and crashed through the French window into the garden of the bungalow.
“The fire-escape,” Flannery shouted. “Head him off—”
The Captain, Duff and Chan were close behind. Charlie ran to the fire-escape at the left. But it was not that for which Eric Durand was headed tonight. He leaped to the rail that enclosed the garden; for an instant his big figure poised, a dark silhouette against the misty sky. Then silently it disappeared.
They ran to the rail and looked down. Far below, in the dim light of a street lamp, they saw a black, huddled heap. A crowd was gathering around it.
XXII
Hawaii Bound
Their pursuit so tragically ended, the three men came slowly back into the living-room of the bungalow.
“Well,” said Flannery, “that’s the end of him.”
“Escaped?” Miss Morrow cried.
“From this world,” nodded the Captain. Eve Durand gave a little cry. Miss Morrow put an arm about her. “There’s work for me below,” added Flannery, and went quickly out.
“We’d better go home, my dear,” said Miss Morrow gently. She and Eve Durand went to the hall. Kirk followed and opened the door for them. There was much he wanted to say, but under the circumstances silence seemed the only possible course.
“I can get my car,” he suggested.
“No, thanks,” answered Miss Morrow. “We’ll find a taxi.”
“Good night,” he said gravely. “I shall hope to see you soon.”
When he returned to the living-room, Colonel Beetham was speaking. “Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it. What a washout that life was! Poor Major.”
Duff was calmly filling his pipe, unperturbed as a Chinese. “By the way,” he drawled, “I had a cable about him this morning. He was dishonorably discharged from the British Army ten years ago. So his right to the title may be questioned. But no doubt you knew that, Colonel Beetham?”
“I did,” Beetham replied.
“You knew so much,” Duff continued. “So much you weren’t telling. What were you doing on the floor below that Tuesday night?”
“Precisely what I told Flannery I was doing. I ran down to inform Li Gung that he needn’t wait.”
“I didn’t know but what you’d gone down for a chat with Eve Durand?”
The Colonel shook his head. “No—I’d had my chat with Eve. You see, I’d located her several days before the dinner party. After losing track of her for ten years, I came to San Francisco on a rumor she was here. My errand on the floor below was with Li Gung, as I said it was.”
“And the next day you shipped him off to Honolulu?”
“I did, yes. At Eve’s request. I’d arranged that two days before. She heard Sir Frederic was interested in him, and she was afraid something might happen to wreck my next expedition. The thing was unnecessary, Li Gung would never have told, but to set her mind at rest, I did as she asked.”
Duff looked at him with open disapproval. “You knew that Durand had committed one murder. Yet you said nothing to the police. Was that playing the game, Colonel Beetham?”
Beetham shrugged. “Yes, I think it was. I’m sure of it. I did not dream that Durand had been in San Francisco the night of Sir Frederic’s murder. Even if I had known he was here—well—you see—”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” snapped Duff.
“There is really no reason why I need explain to you,” Beetham went on. “However, I will. Something happened on that long trek across Afghanistan and the Kavir Desert. Eve was so brave, so uncomplaining. I—I fell in love. For the first and last time. What she has done since—for me—damn it, man, I worship her. But I have never told her so—I do not know whether she cares for me or not. While Durand lived, he was my rival, in a way. If I had given him up—what would my motive have been? I couldn’t have been quite sure myself. I did suggest that Eve tell her story, but I didn’t press the point. I couldn’t, you see. I had to leave the decision to her. When she escaped that night from Flannery’s men, I helped her. If that was what she wanted, I was forced to agree. Yes, Inspector—I was playing the game, according to my lights.”
Duff shrugged. “A nice sense of honor,” he remarked. “However, I will go so far as to wish you luck.”
“Thanks,” returned Beetham. He took up his coat. “I may say that, no doubt from selfish motives, I was keen to have you get him. And Sergeant Chan here saw to it that I was not disappointed. Sergeant, my hearty congratulations. But I know your people—and I am not surprised.”
Chan bowed. “Forever with me your words will remain, lasting and beautiful as flowers of jade.”
“I will go along,” said Beetham, and departed.
Duff took up Sir Frederic’s briefcase. “Perhaps you would like to look at these records, Sergeant,” he remarked.
Chan came to with a start. “Pardon my stupidity.”
“I said—maybe you want to glance at Sir Frederic’s records?”
Charlie shook his head. “Curiosity is all quenched, like fire in pouring rain. We have looked at last behind that curtain Sir Frederic pictured, and I am content. At the moment I was indulging in bitter thought. There is no boat to Honolulu until next Wednesday. Five terrible days.”
Duff laughed. “Well, I’ve been through the records hastily,” he went on. “Sir Frederic had talked with certain friends of that porter in London. But the man himself had died before the Yard heard about him, and the evidence of his associates was hazy—hardly the sort to stand up in the courts. It needed the corroboration of
