Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/122

“Where down-town have you been?”

“In Aala Park.”

“You talked with some one there?”

“I did. The company was not select, but I made it do.”

“Not on the beach to-night.” Chan was staring at the man’s feet. “Kashimo, you and Spencer will kindly escort this gentleman out to spot below window where you discovered footprints, and make careful comparison.”

“I know,” cried the Japanese eagerly. He went out with the other policeman and the beach-comber.

Chan turned to Fyfe. “Long arduous task,” he commented. “But man, without work, becomes—what? A Mr. Smith. Will you be seated at your ease?”

The others entered from the dining-room, and to them also Charlie offered chairs, which most of them accepted with poor grace. Alan Jaynes was consulting his watch. Eleven o’clock—he sought Chan’s eyes. But the detective looked innocently the other way.

Tarneverro came close to Charlie. “Anything new?” he inquired, under his breath.

“The inquiry widens,” Chan answered.

“I'd rather it narrowed down,” replied the fortune-teller.

The two policemen and the beach-comber returned through the lanai. Spencer again had the latter firmly in his grip.

“O. K., Charlie,” said the uniformed man. “The footprints under the window could have been made by only one pair of shoes in Honolulu.” He pointed at the beach-comber’s battered footwear. “Those shoes,” he added.

Smith looked down, smiling whimsically. “They