Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/233

“What’s it all about, Julie?” the boy inquired.

Tears were in her eyes. “It’s about—poor Shelah. She took me in when I was broke and without a friend—she was always so good to me. I’d—I’d have done anything in the world for her—let alone tell a little lie.”

“I won’t ask you to continue,” Bradshaw remarked. “I don’t have to. Don’t look around. Inspector Chan of the Honolulu police is approaching rapidly, and something in his walk tells me that this is the zero hour for you. Brace up. I’m with you, kid.”

Charlie joined them, amiable and smiling. “Not too welcome, I think. But anyhow I attach myself to this little group.” He sat down, facing the girl. “What is your opinion of our beach, Miss Julie? Here you are deep in the languid zone. How do you like languor, as far as you have got with it?”

Julie stared at him. “Mr. Chan, you have not come here to talk to me about the beach.”

“Not precisely,” he admitted. “But I am firm believer in leading up. Suitable preparation removes the sting of rudeness. Making an example, it would have been undecently abrupt for me to stride up and cry: ‘Miss Julie, why do you lie to me about that emerald ring?’”

Her cheeks flushed. “You think I have been—lying?”

“More than think, Miss Julie. I know. Other eyes than Jessop’s saw the ring on Miss Fane’s finger long after you immersed in waters of Waikiki last night.”

She did not reply. “Better own up, Julie,” Bradshaw advised. “It’s the best way. Charlie will be your friend then—won’t you, Charlie?”