The tomb of Ts'in
never pleasant to know that one whom in your heart you grade below
your own intellectual level is your superior in scholastic
attainments.
“I picked it up in the place where one acquires much enlightenment,”
said Soo carelessly.
He blew a ring of smoke towards the ceiling, and watched it disappear.
“You wouldn’t imagine,” said he, “that I was intended for the
ministry; yet that is the fact. There were good people who thought I
would make an ideal missionary, and by the force of my personality and
the knowledge of my own people, wean them from the traditions and the
philosophies of two thousand years to the half-hearted philosophies,
imperfectly understood and imperfectly promulgated in twenty different
ways by the intelligent people of this country.”
De Costa said nothing. He was too wily a man to be drawn into a
discussion on a subject with which he was not too well acquainted.
Soo had an irritating trick of getting him out of his depths.
“I understand you’ve got the bracelet,” said the Chinaman, and the
other acknowledged the possession.
He unlocked the drawer of his desk, and took out a steel box. From
this he extracted the bangle which Talham had handed to his son.
It was still in its paper wrapping, and Soo paused awhile before he
removed the tissue.
“It is very light for jade,” he said suspiciously.
He threw the end of his cigarette into the fireplace with a quick
movement of his hand, and stripped the ornament of its wrapper.
He looked at it carefully, twisting the bangle about in his hand.
“This is not jade,” he said.
“Not jade,” repeated the merchant, and half rose from his chair. “Are
you sure?”
“This is celluloid,” said the calm Soo, “cleverly copied and possibly
weighted to give it the appearance of jade.”
He balanced it carefully on his hand; then he examined the gold bands.
“Yes, as I thought,” he said, “the weight is in the gold.”
He inspected the inscriptions and read them carefully. Half
obliterated as they were, it was no easy task to decipher them by
artificial light. Then he put the bangle upon the table.
“Your friend has deceived you,” he said quietly. “This is not the
famous Shu Shun bracelet. It is not even an imitation. These
writings”--he tapped the bangle with his fingers--“are commonplace
copybook maxims, as you would call them in this country.”
He picked up the ornament again, and read: “An ungrateful son is a
disappointed father.” “The father of patience is wisdom, and the
source of peace is love.”
“You have been fooled, my friend!” he said.
De Costa sprang to his feet.
“Explain what you mean,” he said.
The Chinaman was lighting another cigarette.
“It is very simple.” He looked abstractedly at the ceiling, and spoke
half to himself: “The girl had the original bracelet, and has returned
this. Either she, or one of her friends, has the bangle; and it is our
business to get it. Without that”--he lowered his voice--“everything
that happened yesterday was in vain.”
“Don’t talk about yesterday,” said De Costa hurriedly. “That is a
subject which I never wish to discuss; you don’t know how I’m feeling
about it, Soo. I never wanted anybody hurt, I swear I didn’t.”
The Chinaman interrupted him with a slow smile.
“These things are not done by politeness,” he said. “You are going
into a big enterprise, and you must take a correspondingly big risk.”
“I take no risks,” said De Costa, white of face. “I know nothing
whatever about it. Two deaths! My God, they couldn’t----”
Soo nodded.
“They could indeed,” he said easily. “If anybody hangs for what
happened last night, be sure that you hang with them. You have gone
into this matter, De Costa, with your eyes open. You saw a chance of
obtaining an enormous treasure, and you took all risk. You
Westerners,” he went on, “place too high a value upon human life.”
He half rose from his chair, leant across to the desk, and picked up
the bangle again, examining it with an amused smile. Then, as he
replaced it upon the table, he said grimly: “The events of yesterday
about which you do not wish to speak, would have been wholly
unnecessary had I known in time that this bangle existed.”
“But surely,” began De Costa, “the paper you found----”
Soo shook his head. He was calmness itself. “I have no papers,” he
said simply.
De Costa stared at him.
“No papers! What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly what I say,” said the other. He marked the situation
upon the outstretched fingers of his hand. “Three men were sent to
secure an envelope from the Chinese Ambassador’s bureau, and one of
them was killed. Two made their escape with the papers concerning the
matter. I have not seen them since.”
“Gone?” said De Costa.
“Gone!” repeated the other. “There is another influence at work. I am
inclined to associate an old acquaintance of mine--Captain Talham. You
probably know him!”
De Costa nodded.
“He is interested in this matter of Mount Li. So firm was my
conviction that he was behind the treachery of my two men, that I took
the liberty of preparing a little surprise for him last night.
Unfortunately,” he said with regret, “it did not materialise. But
to-night--who knows?”
He rose abruptly, and buttoned his overcoat, turning up the collar
about his neck.
“I must go now,” he said. “There is a lot of work to be done before
to-morrow morning.”
“What work?” asked De Costa.
“I am going to recover the bracelet,” said Soo, and there was that in
his eyes which made the older man quail.
“There will be no violence?” he stammered.
“None, I assure you,” said the other airily.
“Remember,” said De Costa almost tremulously, “that it is a woman you
have to deal with.”
“I have dealt with many women,” said Soo, “and I find very little
difference between the sexes save that the gentler is a trifle more
courageous, and a little more willing to bear the consequences of
their folly.”
De Costa accompanied him into the regions of the kitchen and showed
him to the door which led to the area. Not another word was spoken
between the two men.
De Costa closed the door behind his visitor and bolted it securely. He
went back to his study and drained off a glass of neat brandy.
He went to bed that night in no happy frame of mind.
He might have been less happy, as he lay tossing from side to side in
his bed, had he seen the dark figure of a man stealing in the shadow
of the wall which formed a tiny courtyard at the back of his house.
CHAPTER VI.
A CRIME OF TILLIZINNI.
Whoever the masked man was who was working so deliberately at the
back door of Mr. de Costa’s respectable dwelling, he went to work
methodically and without any indication that he feared detection. He
carried a little tiny kit of tools which he had spread upon the
ground, and from time to time he leant down and selected one of these
by the light of a small electric lamp which he flashed for a moment
upon the kit’s contents.
He took some trouble to avoid anything in the nature of a violent
noise, and it was half an hour before the lock, and a portion of the
door, came away very gently in his hand.
As methodically he leant down and rolled up the tools, placing them in
his pocket; he pushed the door open, and entered.
He had no difficulty in forcing another door, or in gaining the wide
hallway which formed the principal entrance to the house.
In half an hour he pursued his inquiries with quiet confidence.
The dining-room yielded nothing; the rather ornate drawing-room no
more. Yet he made a systematic search, flickering his light here and
there, moving such pictures as he thought might conceal that which he
sought.
He reserved his examination of the study till the last. He found some
cigarette ends in the fireplace and picked them up cautiously,
examining the brand with the light of his lantern. These he wrapped
carefully in a piece of paper, and placed in his waistcoat pocket. He
opened all the drawers and methodically examined them, replacing them
just as he had found them, and relocked the drawers after him with a
curious key which he took from his pocket.
After a while he mounted the stairs.
De Costa occupied the first room on the second floor, and the door
faced the stairs, and on the right was another door, which led to the
dressing-room, which again gave access to the principal bedroom.
The visitor made no attempt to force the door for some minutes, but
devoted his attention to the door on the right.
It opened easily. He stood in the doorway listening. For all he knew
De Costa may have had alarms fixed; but no bell or buzzer woke the
stillness of the night. He closed the door gently behind him; the
floor was carpeted with thick felt, and the precaution he had taken of
enclosing his feet in goloshes was unnecessary. In this room, as he
knew, was the intimate safe of the merchant’s.
He had come prepared to open that safe and inspect its interior. In
his pocket was a heavy iron bottle containing sufficient oxygen for
his purpose, and in another pocket the blow-pipe and the instruments
necessary to burn out the lock of the safe.
He switched on his pocket light, and turned it unhesitatingly in the
direction of where the safe was to be found. Instantly his thumb
closed upon the switch, and his light went out. Facing him was a man
who stood with his back to the safe. His face was covered with a black
crêpe mask, and in his hand, pointing insistently in the direction of
the other, was a long-barrelled Colt revolver.
He might have saved himself the trouble of switching off his light,
for instantly from the stranger’s disengaged hand a white beam of
light shot out. He had come similarly equipped.
“Go downstairs,” whispered the man by the safe, “and keep your hands
away from your pockets.”
There was nothing for the burglar to do but to obey. Without a word he
turned and walked out of the room, the other following a few paces
behind.
“To the kitchen!” whispered the second man, and the burglar turned
obediently.
They entered the big, underground kitchen together, the second man
closing the door behind him before he felt on the wall for the switch.
In a minute the room was illuminated, and they stood facing each
other.
“Who are you?” asked the second man quietly.
“I prefer to remain anonymous,” said the burglar.
He was the taller of the two, a man above medium height, and his voice
had just that touch of culture which one does not expect from a member
of the criminal classes.
“I prefer to see your face,” said the second man.
The burglar shrugged his shoulders.
“Existence,” he said oracularly, “is made up of unsatisfied desires.
Nature in the ordering of her plans does not take into account the
prejudices----”
“Good heavens!” gasped the other. “Captain Talham!”
The burglar was silenced momentarily, apparently annoyed too.
“I am Captain Talham,” he said with ridiculous pride, and took off his
mask; “though why you should know me I fail to understand.”
The second man laughed--a low, musical, chuckling laugh.
“I know you all right,” he answered.
Talham stood for a moment fidgeting by the side of the kitchen table;
then:
“Let us put our cards on the table, Tillizinni,” he said.
It was the second man’s turn to start.
“Oh, yes, I know you!” Talham went on. “I always remember people by
their hands; and as you probably know, the third knuckle of your left
is more prominent than any other.”
Tillizinni laughed.
“We seem to have made a pretty mess of it between us,” he said; “as I
gather, we are both here on the same errand.”
Talham nodded.
“You can save yourself the trouble of tampering with the safe. I’ve
already been to it.”
“How did you get in?” asked Talham.
The detective shook his head with a smile.