Complete works of peter.., p.521
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 521
At eleven o'clock he was back in the vestibule of the Elect Theatre, his eyes on the exit from the stalls. At the end of the play the woman, the closed fan in her hand, accompanied by her companion, came out. Close behind them was the half-breed. The pair stopped at the entrance of the theatre evidently awaiting the arrival of their car, and Alonzo saw the half-breed pass them and walk quickly to the cab rank outside the Savoy Hotel.
A moment later Alonzo saw a small two-seater car detach itself from the rank and pull into the pavement on the left-hand side of the road. The half-breed was at the wheel. As he made for the cab rank, Alonzo saw the Chinaman standing at the entrance of the theatre, concealed by a pillar, watching the two-seater on the other side of the road. A few paces away, his hat over his eyes and his hands in his pockets, stood Lon.
Alonzo secured a cab.
"Follow that two-seater when it gets going, and don't lose it, but don't let him see he's being trailed," said Alonzo to the driver, who, after a quick glance at Alonzo's well cut evening clothes, came to the conclusion that he would be well "looked after."
From the cab window Alonzo saw the woman and her companion step into their car, which drove off towards Charing Cross; at the same time the half-breed started his two-seater in their wake, and after him came Alonzo's cab. As they passed the theatre MacTavish saw the smiling Chinaman slowly walking in the opposite direction with the watchful Lon a few paces in the rear. Charing Cross sped by, then Piccadilly. Soon the lights of Kensington appeared in the distance, but the car containing the woman with the fan and her companion did not slacken its pace, and it seemed that their destination was somewhere outside London. Through the front windows of the cab Alonzo could see the figure of the half-breed crouched over the wheel a dozen yards behind the leading car.
Something made Alonzo glance over his shoulder, and he gave a whistle of astonishment. Through the little window at the back of the cab he saw that a large touring car was behind his taxi-cab.
The electric light was switched on, and leaning back in the corner of the car was the little fat Chinaman! Alonzo grinned. He was thoroughly interested. He wondered what would be the end of this strange chase.
They passed through Richmond and, with the deserted country road in front of them, the four cars sped through the night. It seemed certain that the first two were unaware that they were being followed.
Suddenly, the leading car slackened pace, and about half a mile in front of them Alonzo saw, distinct in the bright moonlight, a large country house, standing in its own grounds about three hundred yards from the road. It was evidently the destination of the lady of the fan and her escort.
Just as suddenly the half-breed's two-seater swung off, and disappeared up a narrow road running off to the right. The pace of the taxi-cab was too fast for Alonzo's driver to follow, and he pulled in to the left of the road. Alonzo, his eyes glued to the back window, saw the car containing the Chinaman swing out to the right after the half-breed's two-seater.
"Sorry I lost 'im, sir," said the taxi-driver, as Alonzo dismounted from the cab. "I was going too fast to get round after 'im. I'll try and pick him up if you like."
"That's all right," said Alonzo. "You did your best." He gave the man a couple of pound notes, and stood by the roadside undecided as the taxi-cab disappeared in the direction of London.
Eventually he walked slowly along in the direction of the house, smoking a cigarette. There was a decided idea in his head that something was going to happen, and there seemed nothing for him to do but to carry on and await events. Two things were obvious—firstly, that the Chinaman had given Lon the slip, and, secondly, that the yellow man had known that the two-seater was going to swing off to the right, otherwise his driver could not have slackened pace sufficiently to enable him to get the big car round the sharp corner.
About a quarter of a mile from the house Alonzo stopped suddenly. A red gleam of light showed for a moment across the fields to his right, and then disappeared. He pushed his way through the hedge, and set off in the direction of the light, for he was certain that it was the rear light of the half-breed's car that he had seen.
Keeping in the shadow of the hedge which ran across the field Alonzo made his way towards the place where he had seen the light, and in five minutes' time he had proved the correctness of his surmise. Hidden in a little declivity was the two-seater car, unattended. The scheme of the half-breed was plain. He had approached the house from the rear. Fifteen yards from the car, the engine of which was quietly running, Alonzo made out a wicket gate which evidently gave access to the grounds of the house. He passed through this gate, and continued through the trees. A short distance in front of him he could see the gently sloping lawn, which led to the back of the house.
Picking his way through the undergrowth, Alonzo made his way towards the edge of the lawn. He stopped dead as the noise of splintering glass came to his ears. Almost simultaneously a revolver shot rang out—then another! Peering through the trees, Alonzo saw, in the bright moonlight, across the broad lawn, the figure of the half-breed running towards him. In one hand he held a revolver, and in the other, its colours vibrant in the moonlight, was the Peacock Fan!
For a moment Alonzo hesitated, undecided. Then, his mind made up, he raced for the car. Behind the dickey seat was a grid for carrying luggage and he managed to seat himself on this. A few seconds later the half-breed sprang to the driver's seat, and the car made off, and turning to the right, sped along a narrow road, which led away from the house.
Fifteen minutes afterwards the car slowed down, and peering round the back Alonzo saw that they had stopped outside a small cottage. The half-breed left the car and, walking along the irregular and overgrown path which led to the cottage door, he inserted a key and entered. Alonzo followed, and creeping to a window on the right of the door, looked through a small hole in the blind into the room beyond.
An extraordinary sight met his gaze. The half-breed had pushed open the door of the room into which Alonzo was looking, and with the Peacock Fan in his hand was gazing at the opposite corner of the room. There, seated in the semi-darkness, for the room was lit only by a flickering lamp, sat the Chinaman smiling inscrutably at the astonished face of the half-breed.
"I wish you good evening." said the Chinaman in excellent English. "Mr. Singh, for many years I have awaited the esteemed honour of your acquaintance."
He rose and bowed. The half-breed showed his teeth.
"Who are you and what do you want?" he asked. Alonzo noticed that his fingers had tightened hard around to handle of the fan and that his right hand was creeping in the direction of his hip pocket.
The Chinaman smiled. "I am Li-Hung," he said softly. "One who wears the yellow jacket and lives above the Monastery of Tsao-Tse. You know it, I believe. Mr. Singh—that darkened temple where our priests were wont to worship—that same dark temple from which you stole the Peacock Fan!"
The half-breed laughed. He had recovered his nerve.
"Why should I steal this worthless fan, Li-Hung?" he asked.
"Because of the priceless jewel which is concealed in the handle, Mr. Singh," smiled the Chinaman. "And because it was so written."
The half-breed threw the fan upon the table. Then he withdrew his right hand from his pocket, and Alonzo saw that it held an automatic pistol. He laid the pistol upon the table within reach, and drawing a cigarette case from his pocket, lit a cigarette.
"Well, do we talk business, Li-Hung," he asked. "I suppose you want your share."
The Chinaman still smiled. "I want the jewel that is concealed in the handle of the fan," he said quietly. "It is the eye of our god. It must be returned to the Temple."
The half-breed laughed again. An idea came to Alonzo. Through the slightly opened door he could see the two men plainly, and almost within his reach was the Peacock Fan. Alonzo quietly put his hand to the door, and pushing it open, sprang for the table, his hand was almost upon the fan when he found his wrist in a grip of steel.
Another Chinaman, hidden in the corner of the room, had seized him!
Li-Hung smiled at him across the table.
"Good evening Mr. MacTavish," he said. "I expected you. Just the same Mr. MacTavish. Quick to help one who has befriended you. You would return this fan to Miss Harkness? Have patience. Li-Hung does not forget a friend—nor the opium shop on the waterside at San Francisco."
Then Alonzo remembered. "Ho-Lung!" he said in astonishment. "You!"
"Li-Hung is my name," said the Chinaman. "I was Ho-Lung, for I have called myself many things in quest of the fan."
The half-breed picked up the pistol and showed his teeth in a grin. "Suppose we end all this argument," he said. "I have the Fan, which I will return with pleasure—" he smiled wickedly at Li-Hung—"when I have removed the jewel. My car is outside, and if any one interferes it will be the worse for him!"
With the pistol still in his hand, he unscrewed the end of the fan and touching a hidden spring disclosed in the cavity. Flashing from its place of concealment was a huge diamond. He grinned and inserted his finger in the cavity. As he did so the fan jerked, and he staggered back against the wall, his face grey with agony.
Li-Hung still smiled. "That was the reason why I would not have you touch the fan, Mr. MacTavish," he said. "Underneath the jewel there is a piece of mechanism containing a poisoned needle. It has done its work!"
He pointed to the half-breed, who had sunk to the floor his face distorted with pain. Li-Hung rose from his chair.
"He will be dead in ten minutes," he said. He stooped and took the diamond from the dying man's fingers. Then, from the fan je extracted the mechanism which worked the poison needle, and, replacing the handle, handed the fan to Alonzo.
"It was written that he should die," he said simply. "The eye of our god shall be replaced. The fan's yours to keep or to return to the lady who bought it. This"—he handed a small package to Alonzo—"is in memory of Ho-Lung, who was glad of your courage. Let us go."
FOUR hours later Alonzo, seated at breakfast at the house from which the half-breed had stolen the fan, smiled across the table at Kitty Harkness.
"The fan suits you," he said. "I couldn't bear you to lose it."
She smiled. "You always were generous, Mr. MacTavish," she said. "But you must have had great difficulty in regaining the fan. Was it worth your trouble?"
Alonzo smiled. On his way to the house he had unwrapped the package which Li-Hung had given him. Inside was a splendid ruby and a scrap of paper. Written on the paper were these words:—
Through him who succoured the high priest of the temple shall that which was stolen be restored and to him shall be given the reward of the god.
Alonzo passed his cup for more coffee.
"I think it was worth while," he murmured.
04. — THE THREE GREY MEN OF MOTE HALL
As published in The Queenslander , Australia, 19 June 1926
THE atmosphere of the Lyon's Tea Shop was restful. Outside, the busy traffic in Southampton Row, and the summer heat, made life unendurable. Alonzo had already consumed three pots of China tea, mainly as an excuse for staying on, in order to consider the problem which, for the last hour had engrossed his attention. He propped the newspaper up against the tea pot, and read, once again, the paragraph which had caught his eye early that morning.
MOTE HALL MURDER MYSTERY.
BODY IDENTIFIED.
The body of the man who was found murdered in the entrance hall at Mote Hall, the deserted Sussex Mansion, was today identified as that of Carl Kleiner. This information serves to deepen the extraordinary mystery which has puzzled Scotland Yard and the Sussex Police for the last fortnight.
Kleiner is a clever American crook, who landed in this country only three days before he was found stabbed to the heart in Mote Hall. His presence in the empty house is unaccountable. He had been staying at Carret's Hotel, Mayfair, and had told the hall porter that he was going to Sussex for two days and would return to the Hotel.
Robbery was not the motive for the crime, as his watch and a large diamond ring were found on the body. The medical evidence at the inquest stated that the force which drove the dagger to Kleiner's heart must have been practically superhuman.
Alonzo ordered a fourth pot of tea, and considered the mystery. Carl Kleiner was a clever American crook, who had managed, very successfully, to evade the police for the last five years. What was he doing down at Mote Hall, in Sussex? An expert burglar does not usually amuse himself inspecting deserted country mansions, Alonzo thought, and Kleiner was very expert, besides which he was a man of imagination, and something told Alonzo that there was more in the sudden visit to the empty mansion than was obvious at the moment.
A slim, dark young fellow entered the tea shop, and, catching sight of Alonzo, made his way to the table. "Hullo, Mac," he said cheerfully. "I got your 'phone message all right, but I had to jump about a bit to get the job done, but I think I've got the dope on Kleiner."
"Where did you get it, Lon?" asked Alonzo, signalling for another cup.
Lon Ferrers grinned. "Do you remember Lopey Steve, Mac?" he asked. "Well, he wasn't particularly fond of Kleiner, but he knew more about him than anybody this side of the Atlantic. Here you are..."
He threw a folded paper across the table, and drinking the cup of tea which Alonzo had poured out for him, put on his hat.
"So long, Mac," he said. "I'd like to know what the game is, but I know it's no use asking. Till next time. So long!"
Alonzo, left to himself, opened the slip of paper and read:—
"Kleiner came over three days before he was found croaked in Mote Hall. He was believed to have some game on down there. Said he was thinking of buying the place, but that was all eye wash. There must have been something big on, for Kleiner only went out for big stuff. Hertz, a Dago, who used to be Kleiner's 'side stepper,' landed in England the day after Kleiner arrived. He had it in for Kleiner, who, he said, had twisted him on their last deal. Hertz may have done Kleiner in. He will stick at nothing. Photo herewith."
Alonzo examined the photograph of Hertz carefully. He came to the conclusion that he had never seen such a villainous-looking face in the course of his adventurous career.
After some further consideration, Alonzo came to the conclusion that there was nothing for it but to go down to Mote Hall and investigate. He was certain that there was something tangible in Mote Hall, and that Kleiner had been after it.
An A.B.C. borrowed from an adjacent chemist's shop told him that there was a train for East Shallock—a station about five miles from Mote Hall—at four-thirty. He took a cab to his flat at Earl's Court, and packing a suitcase, into which he slipped his automatic pistol, he caught the train and was soon en route for Mote Hall.
East Shallock was a small country station that boasted of no cabs or other means of conveyance. Alonzo learned that there was an inn two miles further along the road where he could find accommodation. Gripping his suit case he swung cheerfully along the road, his brain busily endeavouring to evolve some scheme of action.
Presently the inn came in sight. It was a prepossessing-looking, old-fashioned place, where Alonzo obtained a hearty greeting from the landlord, who, he was glad to find, was inclined to be talkative.
"Terrible thing, this 'ere murder, sir," he volunteered presently, as Alonzo was eating his dinner in the tiny dining room. "We ain't 'ad a murder in these parts for nigh on 30 year. A strange business for a man to be found stabbed in a 'ouse that 'asn't been lived in for two 'undred years. But Mote 'All's a strange place—I wouldn't like to spend a night there, and many's the strange tales they do tell about the old house."
"Haunted?" queried Alonzo, with a smile.
"They do say so, sir," replied the landlord. "You see, the 'all used to be a monastery in the olden times, and the monks as were in it never came out of the place. When they died they were just buried by the others. Well, the story goes that at last there was only three of 'em left, an' these three used to take turn and turn about to guard the treasure that was supposed to be in the vaults underneath. Some rapscallion in the neighbourhood, thinking to get the treasure, climbed the monastery wall one night. He was never 'eard of again, but years after they found what was left of 'im in the 'all, just the same as this 'ere Mr. Kleiner. There's old folk about 'ere who swear they've seen the ghosts of the Three Grey Men of Mote Hall—as they are called—walkin' about the grounds at night with daggers in their 'ands, and tho' it may sound silly like, I've often thought I've seen a light in the windows late at night myself."
Alonzo, his dinner finished, lit a pipe. It was strange, he thought, that Kleiner should have met his death in the manner of the old legend, for although Alonzo did not believe in ghosts, he had encountered strange coincidences in his time. After a few minutes he strolled into the passage between the dining-room and the private bar. He looked through the bar door, then drew back quickly out of sight, for, sitting against the bar, drinking a whisky and soda, was the man whose photograph was in Alonzo's pocket—Hertz!
Alonzo, back in the dining-room, considered the situation. What was Hertz doing at Mote Hall? Was it merely curiosity to see the scene of his late partner's death, which had brought him here, or was there some other and more sinister motive?
A glance at the inn's register showed him that Hertz had registered as a "Tourist." with an address in Paris. Alonzo smiled gently to himself, and, knocking out his pipe, went up to bed.
IT was 3 o'clock the next morning. The moon had sunk behind the clouds, and the night was dark as Alonzo ascended the bracken-covered path which led to Mote Hall. The outline of the old mansion, ghostly in the dim light, brought to Alonzo's mind the landlord's story of "The Three Grey Men." A convenient tree helped him to scale the wall, and ten minutes afterwards he forced the dusty shutters which covered a ground floor window and made his way into the house.
