Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/241

VAL MARTINO, the director, came down the steps from the hotel lounge, a dashing figure in his white silk suit and flaming tie. He might have been the man on the cover of some steamship folder designed to lure hesitating travelers to the tropics. His gaze fell on Charlie, lolling at ease in a comfortable chair and looking as though he had not a care in the world. The director came over immediately.

“Well, Inspector,” he remarked, “I scarcely expected to see you in such a placid mood just now. Unless you have already solved last night’s affair?”

Chan shook his head. “Luck is not so good as that. Mystery still remains mystery, but do not be deceived. My brain moves, though my feet are still.”

“I’m glad of that,” Martino replied. “And I hope it gets somewhere soon.” He dropped into a chair at Charlie’s side. “You know that thing last night just plain wrecked two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of picture for me, and I ought to hurry to Hollywood on the next boat and see what’s to be done about it. Whoever killed Shelah certainly didn’t have the best interests of our company at heart, or he’d have waited until I finished my job. Oh, well—it can’t be helped now. But I must get away as soon as possible, and that’s why I’m plugging for you to solve the problem at once.”