Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/183

Chan achieved a notable bow, and the old lady gave him a quick kindly smile. A bit of idle chatter seemed in order.

“You are enjoying nice holiday?” the detective inquired.

“That we are,” returned MacMaster. “And we’ve earned it, eh, Mother? Aye, after long years on a sheep ranch, we're off to revisit old Scotland at last. A very leisurely journey, Inspector; we mean to miss nothing along the way. And delighted we are”—he waved toward the beach—“that we did not miss this bonny spot.”

His wife nodded. “Aye, bonny it is. We’re very much afraid we'll no have the strength of character to move on.”

“Speak for yourself, Mother,” MacMaster said. “When the moment comes, I’m sure I'll have strength for two. Do not forget that Aberdeen is waiting.”

“In behalf of Honolulu,” beamed Chan, “my warmest thanks for all these treasured compliments. I recognize they come from honest lips, and my heart feels itself deeply touched. But reluctantly I must approach subject of last night’s homicide. May I open my remarks by pointing out that some malihini—some stranger—must be responsible for this cruel event? Here people are kind, like climate. We seldom murder,” he added feelingly.

“Of course,” murmured the old lady.

Looking up, Charlie saw Tarneverro in the doorway. The fortune-teller’s dark face lighted with satisfaction when he saw the group on the terrace, and he came rapidly down the steps. Chan sighed. He would have preferred to do this thing himself.