West of Guam (72 page)

“She lied about being with Hugh Black, thinking that she could reach him before we did, and that he would protect her. Or perhaps she did not think much about Black, believing she would never be suspected. In any case, she murdered Janisohn. I have phoned. She is being brought here now.”

Jo Gar glanced at his wristwatch. “How long has Hugh Black been gone from this office?” he asked.

Sadi Ratan said: “About five minutes.”

The detective nodded. “You told him you would investigate his statement that he had been in a certain shop at twenty minutes of eleven—after daylight?”

“Yes, Señor Gar.”

Jo Gar’s voice was soft. “This is the purchase Hugh Black made, Lieutenant.” He held the lacquer box toward Sadi Ratan. “The shop was that of Ling Po, who deals in curios of the Orient,” Jo Gar went on. “I have talked to Ling Po, and he has said that a man answering the description of the magician purchased this box from him this evening at twenty minutes to eleven. He was aware of the time because the purchaser also questioned him about buying his ancestral clock.”

The detective paused. Sadi Ratan was regarding him with suspicion. “How is it that you possess the box?”

Jo Gar smiled. “It was the only object in Hugh Black’s room at the Manila Hotel that had
not
been there before he left for the theater in the evening.”

Sadi Ratan frowned. “How do you know that?” he demanded.

“When I accompanied my client and you to the hotel, you recall we went to Hugh Black’s room. You talked with the manager outside. The Princess Vlatchnoff informed me that she had left for the theater with Hugh Black and that the box had not been on the table near the window when they departed.”

Sadi Ratan continued to frown. “So you took it and traced it to Ling Po’s shop. Clever work, Señor Gar!” He laughed nastily. “And all you learned was that Hugh Black was not at the theater at the moment of the crime. In fact, he was merely purchasing the box he placed in his room before we arrived there.”

Jo Gar said, “It so happens that I learned more than that.” He glanced at his wristwatch again. “Before dawn,” he added, “I can turn over to you the murderer of Janisohn.”

“The murderess is now under careful guard,” Ratan told him.

Jo Gar shook his head. “The princess did
not
murder Janisohn. My reputation is not a small one in the Islands. Will you come with me, Lieutenant?”

“Where do we go?” asked Sadi Ratan.

“To the shop of Ling Po.”

The street of the Three Candles was little more than a narrow, curving alley, the entrance to which was almost directly opposite Ling Po’s store. Standing in the darkness of the alley, Sadi Ratan whispered impatiently: “We have been here more than thirty minutes, Señor Gar. I am tired. I shall stay with you only ten minutes—”

Jo Gar’s fingers gripped Sadi Ratan’s wrist in a signal for silence. There had been no sound of footfalls along the street, but now a bent figure came into sight. It paused before the entrance to Ling Po’s store. Shadow moved within shadow, and there was the sound of a door closing.

Jo Gar motioned Sadi Ratan to follow him and hurried across the street. In the doorway of the shop the detective’s left hand moved to a hip pocket as his right turned the knob of the door. His automatic shifted to his right hand as he entered the store.

Above the counter a light wavered, left the face of Ling Po’s ancestral clock. Even as it swung away, Jo Gar saw that the glass covering the clock’s face had been hinged to one side.

The beam from the light struck across Jo Gar’s face. Then the beam was gone.

Jo Gar said sharply, “Please stand still.”

There was a clicking sound—the beam of Sadi Ratan’s flashlight shifted high, dropped. Sadi Ratan swore.

The white light shone full on the face of Hugh Black.

Ling Po called sleepily from the rear of the shop, “What is it that happens?”

Jo Gar said grimly: “Remain quiet, Mr. Black. I have in my hand a weapon that is swifter than a knife.”

In the flare of the beam Hugh Black’s lips were twitching.

Jo Gar called: “Ling Po, it is Señor Gar. Quickly—make a light for us!”

There was silence for several seconds, and then Ling Po pattered into the room. A switch snapped; light from two bulbs whitened the interior.

Jo Gar raised his automatic, walked toward the magician. As he moved he said slowly, “This, Lieutenant Ratan, is the murderer of Janisohn!”

“You lie!” Hugh Black cried fiercely.

Jo Gar halted near the counter. “I do not lie,” he said. “The Princess Vlatchnoff loves you more than you love her, Mr. Black. She tried to protect you, even while defending herself. That is why she said you were with her in her dressing room—when Janisohn collapsed on the stage. But you were not with her.”

The Great Black stood motionless.

“You murdered Richard Janisohn,” the detective went on, “because you discovered he had had an affair with Princess Vlatchnoff. And I think you had come to hate the princess, Mr. Black. Knowing that she would be suspected, being skilled at throwing a knife—”

“You lie!” Hugh Black’s voice was hoarse. “I was not in the theater when Janisohn was murdered. I could not throw a knife if I—”

Jo Gar smiled. “You did not
throw
a knife, Mr. Black. You
struck
with it.”

“You fool!” The Great Black’s words held a smothered fury. “They have told me that he fell in full view of the audience—as he was bowing.”

Jo Gar said, “He did not fall in full view of the audience, Mr. Black, It was you who fell! It was
you
who with your magician’s skill produced a knife, clutched at it and the back of your neck as you sprawled to the stage!”

“Madre de Dios!”
Sadi Ratan’s voice was a whisper.

Jo Gar said, “Your two assistants carried your body to one of the illusion cabinets, Janisohn hurried to you, not knowing what had happened. The assistants had left you. It was
then
that you pulled Janisohn down, Mr. Black. It was
then
that you knifed him!”

The ancestral clock ticked against the heavy breathing of Hugh Black and Sadi Ratan. Ling Po made no sound.

Jo Gar said almost tonelessly: “I did not believe the Princess Vlatchnoff’s story that you were with her in the dressing room. The stage-door attendant was not positive of the time he had seen you leave. There was blood on the cabinet base—stains that even the careful Lieutenant Ratan did not see.

“I was not positive that Janisohn had taken the applause for you this evening, Mr. Black. The knife found in the corridor ceiling was a trick to confuse. The princess, having murdered, would not have thrown it there. I think one of your assistants placed it there.

“And then there was the matter of the lacquer box, Mr. Black.” He watched The Great Black’s eyes widen, as fear came into them. “It puzzled me. The box was not in your room when you left with the princess for the theater. Yet it was there after Janisohn’s murder. There was still some dust clinging to the box. It had been handled carefully. I thought perhaps you considered the box—important. I was not wrong. I traced the box to this shop.”

The great black managed a twisted smile. “You are a fool,” he breathed. “I have been told that Janisohn fell to the stage at exactly eighteen minutes to eleven. I was just leaving this shop at twenty minutes to eleven.”

Ling Po said slowly: “It is as this one says, Señor Gar. It is so.”

Jo Gar spoke calmly. “Why did you come here this morning, Mr. Black? You broke into the shop of Ling Po. Why?”

The Great Black laughed. “I wanted to see if I was clever enough to manage an entrance. I wanted to—”

Jo Gar lifted his gun arm. “Knowing Janisohn was murdered, you tell us you wished to test your skill? Play a game?”

The Great Black’s eyes were on the detective’s weapon.

Jo Gar went on: “We waited for you, Mr. Black. I
knew
that you would come here tonight. You came to Ling Po’s shop once before you purchased the lacquer box. You looked around carefully.

“This evening you returned. Ling Po had been dozing. You were in the store when he greeted you. You purchased a lacquer box—and because the box was important to you, it was taken to your room. That was a mistake. You should have kept the box with you.

“You were afraid that the Princess Vlatchnoff might accuse you of the murder of Janisohn, so you sought to establish an alibi, Mr. Black. You saw to it that Ling Po noticed that you departed from his shop at twenty minutes of eleven, but you did
not
depart at twenty minutes of eleven. For while Ling Po was dozing, you had
set back
the large hand of the clock fifteen minutes! It was actually
five
minutes to eleven when you left this shop—and you had already murdered Janisohn.”

There was silence in the room. The Great Black was swaying.

Jo Gar spoke gently: “I waited for you because I had noticed that the clock was fifteen minutes slow. I knew you would return. It must be set ahead again. It must be an accurate clock.”

There was no color in Hugh Black’s face. “The damned—box! I might have—”

Jo Gar turned to Sadi Ratan. “He is your prisoner, Lieutenant Ratan.”

As Sadi Ratan moved toward the magician, Jo Gar watched The Great Black’s eyes. He could not read the expression in them. A confession to come? A defense? Suicide, perhaps, in a small cell? The detective suddenly felt tired.

Ling Po spoke. “Even at this dark hour, Señor Gar, there is the solace of tea.”

Jo Gar nodded and, without looking at The Great Black or Sadi Ratan, went slowly toward the rear of the shop.

WEST OF GUAM by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1930 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1958 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 12, No. 12 (February 1930).

DEATH IN THE PASIG by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1930 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1958 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 13, No. 1 (March 1930).

RED HEMP by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1930 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1958 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 13, No. 2 (April 1930).

SIGNALS OF STORM by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1930 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1958 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 13, No. 4 (June 1930).

ENOUGH ROPE by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1930 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1958 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 13, No. 5 (July 1930).

NAGASAKI BOUND by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1930 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1958 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 13, No. 7 (September 1930).

NAGASAKI KNIVES by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1930 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1958 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 13, No. 8 (October 1930).

THE CALESO MURDERS by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1930 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1958 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 13, No. 10 (December 1930).

SILENCE HOUSE by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1931 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1959 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 13, No. 11 (January 1931).

DIAMONDS OF DREAD by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1931 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1959 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 13, No. 12 (February 1931).

THE MAN IN WHITE by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1931 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1959 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 14, No. 1 (March 1931).

THE BLIND CHINESE by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1931 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1959 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 14, No. 2 (April 1931).

RED DAWN by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1931 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1959 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 14, No. 3 (May 1931).

BLUE GLASS by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1931 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1959 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 14, No. 5 (July 1931).

DIAMONDS OF DEATH by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1931 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1959 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 14, No. 6 (August 1931).

SHOOTING GALLERY by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1931 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1959 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 14, No. 8 (October 1931).

THE JAVANESE MASK by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1931 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1959 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 14, No. 10 (December 1931).

THE BLACK SAMPAN by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1932 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1960 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 15, No. 4 (June 1932).

CHINA MAN by Raoul F. Whitfield, writing as Ramon DeColta. Copyright © 1932 by Pro-Distributors Publishing Company, Inc. Copyright renewed 1960 by Popular Publications, Inc. From
Black Mask
, Vol. 15, No. 1 (March 1932).