dusk and dark."
Theydon drew a deep breath. If there was gossip going on about "Chinamen" in connection with the murder in No. 17 the newspapers would soon be getting hold of it. The arrest of Len Shi by Furneaux must be reported. Possibly some newspaper correspondent in Eastbourne would hear of the kidnaping exploit, and describe the Eastern aspect of its chief actor, Mrs. Forbes's name would "transpire" in the paragraph, and, by putting two and two together the lynx-eyed journalism of London would ferret out a good deal of the truth.
"Ladies very often talk nonsense about such things," he said sharply. "Why should any Chinaman single out poor Mrs. Lester as a victim? I think the inquiry may be left safely to Scotland Yard. Have you seen the evening papers? I'll bet you sixpence nothing was said at the inquest concerning Chinamen?"
"No, sir. That's true. However, Mrs. Paxton wants you to ring her up."
"Why?"
"She wants to be sure you are safe home."
Theydon laughed. "How can I?" he cried. "She is not on the telephone."
"Mrs. Paxton left a number, sir. If you give them a call it will be taken to her."
Theydon shook his head good-humoredly but obeyed. A voice at the other end answered:
"Will you oblige me by telling Mrs. Paxton that I took an American friend to Eastbourne this afternoon and returned by a late trains," he said.
"Who is it, please?"
"Mr. Theydon, Mrs. Paxton's brother."
"O, I have a message for you. Miss Beale is staying with Mrs. Paxton tonight. There was a Chinaman in her hotel, and she didn't like it."
Theydon controlled his feelings sufficiently to thank his informant. He really wanted to say something crude.
"Gad!" he muttered, when he had rung off, "these women have Chinamen on the brain. Look here Bates," he added emphatically, "I hope you won't lend an ear to this nonsense. You've seen no Chinamen, I supposed?"
"No, sir."
"If you do see one, tell me, and I'll get to know his business, pretty quick."
"Yes, sir."
"Any letters?"
"Three, sir, and a small parcel. I put them on your table. Shall I get you something, sir?"
"No, thanks. I've just had a huge supper. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, sir. Any orders for the morning?"
"Let me sleep as long as I like, unless I'm wanted."
Theydon entered the sitting room. He opened the letters. Two were of no moment; the third was a request from the editor of a magazine that the "copy" of his article on the "Forbes Peace Propaganda" should be forwarded as speedily as practicable. What a mad world it was, to be sure! Here was an important periodical waiting impatiently for the views of the millionaire on the best means of securing peace on earth and good will to all men, while that same master mind was obsessed with fear of a few Chinese bandits. Society was looking to Forbes for a promised panacea against war and its evils; Forbes himself was wondering whether bolts and locks and armed servants and policemen would protect him and his from the claws of the Young Manchus!
Theydon heard Bates locking and bolting the outer door of the flat with a certain thankfulness. He was thinking of the sheer impossibility of any marauder gaining access to No. 18, when he opened the small parcel which the valet had spoken of. He speculated idly as to the nature of its contents, because he could not remember having ordered any article which would be contained in so tiny a package.
He took out a piece of stout paper, folded twice, and a little white object fell to the table and rolled over several times, finally coming to rest with a curious suddenness. It was a small, carved, ivory skull!
CHAPTER XIII
SOME NEW MOVES IN THE GAME
Theydon gazed dazedly at the skull for the best part of a minute. His state of mind was that of a man, utterly incredulous, who nevertheless thinks he sees a ghost. Then he recovered himself and laughed angrily, harshly, because he had not succeeded better in controlling his nerves.
He examined the paper. It bore no writing of any kind. It was precisely similar in color and texture to the two typed slips which Forbes had received, but the sender had evidently thought that the skull was symbolical enough of deadly intent without troubling to add a written threat.
The ivory skull was an exact replica of its predecessors. The set teeth, the scowling grin of the gaunt jawbones, the dull menace of the empty eye sockets, were equally convincing, equally disconcerting.
Lighting a cigarette, Theydon scrutinized the address and postmarks. In a sense, it was ludicrous to find "Francis B. Theydon, Esq., 18 Innesmore Mansions, W. C.," typed in plain script on the wrapper. What an unholy alliance of modern science and medievalism! The mind almost refused to focus itself on the tragic aspect of the affair, yet the hour at which the package was posted, 5:30 p. m. in the West Strand, showed conclusively that Wong Li Fu, at any rate, had not sent the death's head by his own hand, but had entrusted it to a confederate. The notion brought in its train the departure of Miss Beale from her hotel, "because she had seen a Chinaman there." "Every little helps," mused Theydon, "I must let Scotland Yard know."
He went straight to the telephone, and was pleased to hear that Mr. Winter had reached headquarters. The chief inspector was feeling grateful, and said so.
"It was very thoughtful on your part to deal so promptly with the message received by Mr. Forbes," he said. "I meant remaining in Croydon all night. No one came to the house, of course. Wong Li Fu's note explained why. Callous and calculating demon, isn't he?"
"Yes. Even more calculating than you are aware. He has included me in the count now. When I reached home ten minutes since, after gormandizing with Mr. Handyside, I found the totem of the tribe awaiting me."
"The what?"
"An ivory skull."
"You don't say!" and there was a genuine thrill in Winter's voice. "Anything else?"
"There was no written legend. I have no doubt the enemy believes that such a work of art speaks for itself. It does. I am to be exterminated, I suppose."
A marked pause ensued. When Winter spoke again his tone was grave.
"This is a very serious business, Mr. Theydon," he said. "The worst part of it is that it seems to be spreading in an ever-widening circle. If it goes much further we'll be obliged to run in every Chinaman in London, and sift out the decent ones from the heap until we reach the unpleasant residuum. Are you worried about things? If so, I'll send a man to mount guard tonight."
"Not at all, thanks. Bates and I will take care that there isn't even a joss stick in the flat before we go to bed. But I say, there's another matter. Have you met Miss Beale?"
"Yes. She came here this morning. She gave evidence at the inquest, I am told. What of her?"
"I asked my sister to spend the evening with her, and she was so alarmed at finding a Chinaman as a fellow-guest in her hotel that she is spending the night in my sister's house."
"A plague on all Chinamen!" cried Winter wrathfully. "After this I'm dashed if I don't drink Indian tea. However, we'll look him up. Sleep soundly. Your earlier sins of omission are forgiven you, because you have done us several good turns today. I'll tell your local police station that if any pigtail or squint eye is found within half a mile of Innesmore Mansions tonight it is to be jugged without the slightest hesitation. Keep the skull safely. Furneaux is collecting them."
"Have you seen him, then'"
"No. But I've heard from him. He has gone home suffering from opium poisoning."
"Great Scott!"