Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/248

Waiting for the elevator, Chan thought about Jaynes’ story. Was it true? Perhaps. It seemed a rather glib explanation, but was the Britisher clever enough to concoct such a tale on the spot? He appeared to be a stolid, slow-thinking man—always going somewhere to be by himself and figure things out. Could such a man—Charlie sighed. So many problems!

He stepped cautiously from the elevator and peered round the corner. The coast seemed to be clear and he went to the desk. “Has Mr. Tarneverro departed?” he inquired.

The clerk nodded. “Yes—he went out a moment ago, in a great hurry.”

“My warmest thanks,” Charlie said.

His Chief was coming up the hotel steps, and he went to greet him. Together they sought out a secluded corner.

“What’s up?” the Chief wanted to know.

“Number of things,” Chan replied. “Mr. Tarneverro bursts into investigation and demands our strict attention.”

“Tarneverro?” The Chief nodded. “That fellow never has sounded good to me. What about him?”

“For one point,” Charlie answered, “he understands Cantonese.” He told of making that discovery, which had served to turn his thoughts toward the fortune- teller. “But since I called you, even more important evidence leaps up,” he added. Briefly he repeated Jaynes’ story about the cigars.

The Chief whistled. ‘We're getting there, Charlie,” he cried.

Chan shrugged. “You overlook Tarneverro’s alibi——”