Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/49

For a moment the four stood motionless. A new figure strolled upon the scene, a broad bulky Chinese in a dinner coat. Tarneverro hailed him. “Ah, Inspector Chan. Just a moment, please.”

Charlie came closer. “It is Mr. Tarneverro,” he remarked. “The lifter of the veil.”

“Inspector,” the fortune-teller said, “may I present Mr. Van Horn, and Mr. Martino? And this is Mr. Alan Jaynes. Inspector Chan, of the Honolulu police.”

Chan bowed gracefully. “The honor is immense. Distinguished company, as a blind man could see.”

Jaynes glared at Tarneverro. “Very good,” he sneered. “Hide behind the skirts of the police. It’s what I would expect of you.”

“Now, now,” Martino interposed. “A slight misunderstanding, Inspector. There will be no trouble—I am sure the good name of the industry is too precious to all of us. It is certainly very precious to me.”

Van Horn looked at his watch. “Eight o’clock,” he announced. “I believe I’ll roll along down to Shelah’s. Anybody coming?”

The director shook his head. “Not yet. I'll be down presently.” The actor walked slowly away. Martino, his grip still firm on the Britisher’s arm, sought to lead him off. “Come out on the terrace,” he pleaded. “We'll talk this matter over.”

Jaynes turned to the fortune-teller. “I’m not sailing until twelve,” he said. “In the meantime, we may meet again.” He permitted Martino to lead him down the room.

“I trust that last prediction falls short of truth,” Chan said to Tarneverro. “I do not have much liking for light I observe in gentleman’s eye.”