Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/239

Sam, the young Chinese who rejoiced in the title of head bell-man, was alert and smiling. Charlie paused. There was a little matter about which he wished to question Sam.

“I hope you are well,” he said. “You enjoy your duties here, no doubt?” Leading up, he would have called it.

“Plenty fine job,” beamed Sam. “All time good tips.”

“You know man they call Tarneverro the Great?”

“Plenty fine man. Good flend to me.”

Charlie regarded the boy keenly. “This morning you spoke to him in Cantonese. Why did you do that?”

“Day he come, he say long time ago he live in China, knows Chinese talk plitty well. So he and I have talk in Cantonese. He not so good speaking, but he knows what I say allight.”

“He didn’t seem to understand you this morning.”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. This moahning I speak all same any othah day he has funny look an’ say don’ unnahstand.”

“They are peculiar, these tourists,” Chan smiled.

“Plenty funny,” admitted Sam. “All same give nice tips.”

Charlie strode on to the lounge, and through that to the terrace. He sat down there.

His vacation from thinking had been brief indeed, for now he was hard at it again. So Tarneverro understood the Cantonese dialect. But he did not wish Charlie Chan, whom he was so eager to assist in the search for Shelah Fane’s murderer, to know that he understood it. Why was that?

A smile spread slowly over Charlie’s broad face.