Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/127

NO ONE spoke. Outside what Jimmy Bradshaw had called the silken surf broke once again on the coral sand. The crash died away, and inside that crowded room there was no sound save the ticking of a small clock on a mantel beneath which fires were rarely lighted. With a gesture of despair, Alan Jaynes stepped to a table and, striking a match, applied it to one of his small cigars. Charlie crossed over and laid his hand on Fyfe’s shoulder.

“Why have you confessed to a deed you did not perform?” he asked. “That is something I warmly desire to know.”

The actor made no answer, nor did he so much as look up. Charlie turned to face Tarneverro.

“So Shelah Fane was seen alive at twelve minutes past eight?” the fortune-teller remarked suavely. “Would you mind telling me how long you have known that?”

Charlie smiled. “If only it happened you understood Chinese language,” he replied. “I would not find it necessary to elucidate.” He went to the door, and called Jessop. When the butler appeared, Chan asked that he send in Wu Kno-ching at once. “I am doing something now for your benefit alone, Mr. Tarneverro,” he added.