Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/193

CHARLIE took an empty envelope from his pocket and carefully placed his latest discovery inside it. He and the boy again penetrated the bushes and entered the pavilion. Hettick was sitting idly by the dressing-table, with the paraphernalia of his calling spread out before him.

Dropping down on a wicker chair, Chan glanced around the room where, only the night before, he had encountered tragedy. The detective’s face was placid and serene; he might have been awaiting the luncheon bell untroubled by any problem. Through an enormous plate-glass window he watched a liner from the coast move slowly into port.

“You have enjoyed no luck here, Mr. Hettick?” he inquired.

“Not much,” replied Hettick. “The things on the table are covered with prints—all those of the murdered woman herself. I got her record at the mortuary this morning. By the way, the coroner asked me to tell you he has postponed the inquest until to-morrow. He expects you to have something by then.”

Chan shrugged. “Thank him for the compliment. Also inform him I will exchange places with him at any moment.” His gaze returned to the room; the wood-