THE TIN OF OPIUM
(_Friday, July 13; 3.15 p.m._)
A few minutes later Brush served us tea and toast.
“It is oolong tea, sir--Taiwan,” he explained proudly to Vance. “And I
did not butter the toast.”
“You have rare intuition, Brush.” Vance spoke appreciatively. “And
what of Mrs. Bliss and Mr. Salveter? They have had no lunch.”
“I took tea to them a little while ago. They did not wish anything
else.”
“And Doctor Bliss?”
“He has not rung for me, sir. But then, he often goes without lunch.”
Ten minutes later Vance called Brush in from the kitchen.
“Suppose you fetch Hani.”
The butler’s eyelids fluttered.
“Yes, sir.” He bowed stiffly and departed.
“There are one or two matters,” Vance explained to Markham, “that we
should clear up at once; and Hani may be able to enlighten us.… The
actual murder of Kyle is the least devilish thing about this plot. I’m
countin’ extravagantly on what we’ll learn from Salveter and Mrs.
Bliss--which is why, d’ ye see, I want to accumulate beforehand as
much ammunition as possible.”
“Still and all,” put in Heath, “a guy was bumped off, and if I could
put my hands on the bird who did it I wouldn’t lay awake nights
worrying about plots.”
“You’re so dashed pristine, Sergeant.” Vance sipped his tea dolefully.
“Findin’ the murderer is simple. But even if you had him gyved, it
wouldn’t do you a tittle of good. He’d have you apologizin’ to him
within forty-eight hours.”
“The hell he would!” snapped Heath. “Slip me the baby that croaked
Kyle, and I’ll show you some inside stuff that don’t get into the
newspapers.”
“If you were to arrest the murderer now,” Vance returned mildly, “both
of you would get into the newspapers--and the stories would all go
against you. I’m savin’ you from your own impetuosity.”
Heath snorted, but Markham looked at Vance seriously.
“I’m beginning to fall in with your views,” he said. “The elements in
this case are damnably confused.”
At this moment soft, measured footsteps sounded in the hall, and Hani
appeared at the door. He was calm and aloof as usual, and his immobile
face registered not the least surprise at our being in possession of
the breakfast-room.
“Come in and sit down, Hani.” Vance’s invitation was almost too
pleasant.
The Egyptian moved slowly toward us, but he did not take a seat.
“I prefer to stand, _effendi_.”
“It’s of course more comfortin’ to stand in moments of stress,” Vance
commented.
Hani inclined his head slightly, but made no answer. His poise,
typically oriental, was colossal.
“Mr. Scarlett tells us,” Vance began, without looking up, “that Mrs.
Bliss has been well provided for in Mr. Kyle’s will. This information,
Mr. Scarlett said, came from you.”
“Is it not natural,” asked Hani, in a quiet voice, “that Mr. Kyle
should have provided for his godchild?”
“He told you he had done so?”
“Yes. He always confided in me, for he knew I loved Meryt-Amen like a
father.”
“When did he give you his confidence?”
“Years ago--in Egypt.”
“Who else, Hani, knew of this bequest?”
“I think every one knew of it. He told me in the presence of Doctor
Bliss. And naturally I told Meryt-Amen.”
“Did Mr. Salveter know about it?”
“I told him myself.” There was a curious note in Hani’s voice, which I
could not understand at the time.
“And you also told Mr. Scarlett.” Vance raised his eyes and studied
the Egyptian impersonally. “You’re not what I’d call the ideal
reposit’ry for a secret.”
“I did not consider the matter a secret,” Hani returned.
“Obviously not.” Vance rose and walked languidly to the samovar.
“Do you happen to know if Mr. Salveter was also to be an object of Mr.
Kyle’s benefactions?”
“I could not say with assurance.” Hani’s eyes rested dreamily on the
opposite wall. “But from certain remarks dropped by Mr. Kyle, I
gathered that Mr. Salveter was also well provided for in the will.”
“You like Mr. Salveter--eh, what, Hani?” Vance lifted the top of the
samovar and peered into its interior.
“He is, I have reason to think, an admirable young man.”
“Oh, quite.” Vance smiled faintly, and replaced the samovar’s lid.
“And he is much nearer Mrs. Bliss’s age than Doctor Bliss.”
Hani’s eyes flickered, and it seemed to me that he gave a slight
start. It was a momentary reaction, however. Slowly he folded his
arms, and stood like a sphinx, silent and detached.
“Mrs. Bliss and Mr. Salveter will both be rich, now that Mr. Kyle is
dead.” Vance spoke casually without glancing toward the Egyptian.
After a pause he asked: “But what of Doctor Bliss’s excavations?”
“They are probably at an end, _effendi_.” Despite Hani’s monotonous
tone there was a discernible note of triumphal satisfaction in his
words. “Why should the sacred resting-places of our noble Pharaohs be
ravaged?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Vance said blandly. “The art unearthed is
scarcely worth considerin’. The only true art of antiquity is Chinese;
and all modern æsthetic beauty stems from the Greeks.… But this isn’t
an appropriate time to discuss the creative instinct.… Speakin’ of the
doctor’s researches, isn’t it possible that Mrs. Bliss will continue
to finance her husband’s work?”
A black cloud fell across Hani’s face.
“It’s possible. Meryt-Amen is a loyal wife.… And no one can tell what
a woman will do.”
“So I’ve been told--by those unversed in feminine psychology.” Vance’s
manner was light and almost flippant. “Still, even should Mrs. Bliss
decline to assist in the continuance of the work, Mr. Salveter--with
his fanatical enthusiasm for Egyptology--might be persuaded to act as
the doctor’s financial angel.”
“Not if it offended Meryt-Amen----” began Hani, and then stopped
abruptly.
Vance appeared not to notice the sudden break in the other’s response.
“You would, I suppose,” he remarked, “attempt to influence Mrs. Bliss
against helping her husband complete his excavations.”
“Oh, no, _effendi_.” Hani shook his head. “I would not presume to
advise her. She knows her own mind--and her loyalty to Doctor Bliss
would dictate her decision, whatever I might say.”
“Ah!… Tell me, Hani, who do you consider was most benefited by the
death of Mr. Kyle?”
“The _ka_ of Intef.”[*16]
Vance raised his eyes and gave an exasperated smile.
“Ah, yes--of course.… Most helpful,” he murmured.
“For that reason,” Hani continued, a visionary look on his face, “the
spirit of Sakhmet returned to the museum this morning and struck down
the desecrator----”
“And,” interjected Vance, “put the financial report in the
desecrator’s hand, placed the doctor’s scarab pin beside the body, and
made bloody footprints leading to the study.… Not very fair-minded,
your lady of vengeance--in fact, a rather bad sport, don’t y’ know,
tryin’ to get some one else punished for her little flutter in crime.”
He studied the Egyptian closely through narrowed eyes; then he leaned
forward over the end of the table. When he spoke again his voice was
severe and resonant. “You’re trying to shield some one, Hani!… Who is
it?”
The other took a deep breath, and the pupils of his eyes dilated.
“I have told you all I know, _effendi_.” His voice was scarcely
audible. “I believe that Sakhmet----”
“Rubbish!” Vance cut him short. Then he shrugged his shoulders and
grinned. “_Jawâb ul ahmaq sakût._”[*17]
A shrewd gleam came into Hani’s eyes, and I thought I detected a sneer
on his mouth.
Vance was in no wise disconcerted, however. Somehow I felt that,
despite the Egyptian’s evasiveness, he had learned what he wanted.
After a brief pause he tapped the samovar.
“Leaving mythology to one side,” he said complaisantly, “I understand
that Mrs. Bliss sent Brush to you this morning with a cup of coffee.”
Hani merely nodded.
“What, by the by, was the nature of your illness?” Vance asked.
“Since coming to this country,” the man returned, “I have suffered
from indigestion. When I awoke this morning----”
“Most unfortunate,” Vance murmured sympathetically. “And did you find
that the one cup of coffee was sufficient for your needs?”
Hani obviously resented the question, but there was no indication of
his feeling in his answer.
“Yes, _effendi_. I was not hungry.…”
Vance looked mildly surprised.
“Indeed! I was rather under the impression you came down-stairs and
drew yourself a second cup from this percolator.”
Once more a cautious expression came over Hani’s face, and he
hesitated perceptibly before answering.
“A second cup?” he repeated. “Here in the breakfast-room?… I was not
aware of the fact.”
“It doesn’t matter in the least,” Vance returned. “Some one was alone
with the percolator this morning. And whoever it was--that is to say,
whoever might have been alone with it--was involved in the plot of Mr.
Kyle’s death.”
“How could that be, _effendi_?” Hani, for the first time, appeared
vitally worried.
Vance did not answer his query. He was leaning over the table, looking
critically at the inlay.
“Dingle said she thought she heard some one in here after Mrs. Bliss
and Mr. Salveter had gone up-stairs after breakfast, and it occurred
to me it might have been you.…” He glanced up sharply. “It’s possible,
of course, that Mrs. Bliss returned for another cup of coffee… or even
Mr. Salveter.…”
“It was I who was here!” Hani spoke with slow and impressive emphasis.
“I came down-stairs almost immediately after Meryt-Amen had returned
to her room. I drew myself another cup of coffee, and at once went
back up-stairs. It was I whom Dingle heard.… I lied to you a moment
ago because I had already told you, in the museum, that I had remained
in my room all the morning--my trip to the breakfast-room had slipped
my mind. I did not regard the matter as of any importance.”
“Well, well! That explains everything.” Vance smiled musingly. “And
now that you have recalled your little pilgrimage for coffee, will you
tell us who in the house possesses powdered opium?”
I was watching Hani, and I expected to see him show some sign of fear
at Vance’s question. But only an expression of profound puzzlement
came over his stolid features. A full half minute passed before he
spoke.
“At last I comprehend why you have questioned me concerning the
coffee,” he said. “But you are being cleverly deceived.”
“Fancy that!” Vance stifled a yawn.
“Bliss _effendi_ was not put to sleep this morning,” the Egyptian
continued; and, despite the oracular monotone of his voice, there was
an undercurrent of hatred beneath his words.
“Really, now!… And who said he had been put to sleep, Hani?”
“Your interest in the coffee… your question regarding the opium.…” His
voice trailed off.
“Well?”
“I have no more to say.”
“Opium,” Vance informed him, “was found in the bottom of the doctor’s
coffee cup.”
Hani appeared genuinely startled by this news.
“You are sure, _effendi_?… I cannot understand.”
“Why should you understand?” Vance stepped forward and stood before
the man, searching him with a fixed look. “How much do you know about
this crime, Hani?”
The veil of detachment again fell over the Egyptian.
“I know nothing,” he returned sullenly.
Vance made a gesture of impatient resignation.
“You at least know who owned powdered opium hereabouts.”
“Yes, I know that. Powdered opium was part of the medical equipment on
our tours of exploration in Egypt. Bliss _effendi_ had charge of it.”
Vance waited.
“There is a large cabinet in the hall up-stairs,” Hani continued. “All
the medical supplies are kept there.”
“Is the door kept locked?”
“No, I do not believe so.”
“Would you be so good as to toddle up-stairs and see if the opium is
still there?”
Hani bowed and departed without a word.
“Look here, Vance;”--Markham had risen and was pacing up and
down--“what earthly good can it do us to know whether the rest of the
opium is in the cabinet?… Moreover, I don’t trust Hani.”
“Hani has been most revealin’,” Vance replied. “Let me dally with him
in my own way for a time,--he has ideas, and they’re most
interestin’.… As for the opium, I have a distinct feelin’ that the tin
of brown powder in the medicine chest will have disappeared----”
“But why,” interrupted Markham, “should the person who extracted some
of the opium remove it all from the cabinet? He wouldn’t leave the
container on his dressing-table for the purpose of leading us directly
to him.”
“Not exactly.” Vance’s tone was grave. “But he may have sought to
throw suspicion on some one else.… That’s mere theory, however.
Anyway, I’ll be frightfully disappointed if Hani finds the tin in the
cabinet.”
Heath was glowering.
“It looks to me, sir,” he complained, “that one of _us_ oughta looked
for that opium. You can’t trust anything that Swami says.”
“Ah, but you can trust his reactions, Sergeant,” Vance answered.
“Furthermore, I had a definite object in sending Hani up-stairs
alone.”
Again came the sound of Hani’s footsteps in the hall outside. Vance
walked to the window. Under his drooping lids he was watching the door
eagerly.
The Egyptian entered the room with a resigned, martyr-like air. In one
hand he held a small circular tin container bearing a white-paper
label. He placed it solemnly on the table and lifted heavy eyes to
Vance.
“I found the opium, _effendi_.”
“Where?” The word was spoken softly.
Hani hesitated and dropped his gaze.
“It was not in the cabinet,” he said. “The place on the shelf where it
was generally kept, was empty.… And then I remembered----”
“Most convenient!” There was a sneer in Vance’s tone. “You remembered
that you yourself had taken the opium some time ago--eh, what?…
Couldn’t sleep--or something of the kind.”
“The _effendi_ understands many things.” Hani’s voice was flat and
expressionless. “Several weeks ago I was lying awake--I had not slept
well for nights--and I went to the cabinet and took the opium to my
room. I placed the container in the drawer of my own cabinet----”
“And forgot to return it,” Vance concluded. “I do hope it cured your
insomnia.” He smiled ironically. “You are an outrageous liar, Hani.
But I do not blame you altogether----”
“I have told you the truth.”
“_Se non è vero, è molto ben trovato._” Vance sat down, frowning.
“I do not speak Italian.…”
“A quotation from Bruno.” He inspected the Egyptian speculatively.
“Clawed into the vulgate, it means that, although you have not spoken
the truth, you have invented your lie very well.”
“Thank you, _effendi_.”
Vance sighed and shook his head with simulated weariness. Then he
said:
“You were not gone long enough to have made any extensive search for
the opium. You probably found it in the first place you looked--you
had a fairly definite idea where you’d find it.…”
“As I told you----”
“Dash it all! Don’t be so persistent. You’re becoming very borin’.…”
Menacingly Vance rose and stepped toward the Egyptian. His eyes were
cold and his body was tense. “Where did you find that tin of opium?”
Hani shrank away and his arms fell to his sides.
“Where did you find the opium?” Vance repeated the question.
“I have explained, _effendi_.” Despite the doggedness of Hani’s
manner, his tone was not convincing.
“Yes! You’ve explained--but you haven’t told the truth. The opium was
not in your room--although you have a reason for wanting us to think
so.… A reason! What is it?… Perhaps I can guess that reason. You lied
to me because you found the opium----”
“_Effendi_!… Don’t continue. You are being deceived.…”
“I am not being deceived by you, Hani.” (I had rarely seen Vance so
earnest.) “You unutterable ass! Don’t you understand that I knew where
you’d find the opium? Do you think I’d have sent you to look for it if
I hadn’t been pretty certain where it was? And you’ve told me--in your
circuitous Egyptian way you’ve informed me most lucidly.” Vance
relaxed and smiled. “But my real reason for sending you to search for
the sleeping-powder was to ascertain to what extent you were involved
in the plot.”
“And you found out, _effendi_?” There were both awe and resignation in
the Egyptian’s question.
“Yes… oh, yes.” Vance casually regarded the other. “You’re not at all
subtle, Hani. You’re only involved--you have characteristics in common
with the ostrich, which is erroneously said to bury its head in the
sand when in danger. You have merely buried your head in a tin of
opium.”
“Vance _effendi_ is too erudite for my inferior comprehension.…”
“You’re extr’ordin’rily tiresome, Hani.” Vance turned his back and
walked to the other end of the room. “Go away, please--go quite away.”
At this moment there was a disturbance in the hall outside. We could
hear angry voices at the end of the corridor. They became louder, and
presently Snitkin appeared at the door of the breakfast-room holding
Doctor Bliss firmly by the arm. The doctor, fully clothed and with his
hat on, was protesting volubly. His face was pale, and his eyes had a
hunted, frightened look.
“What’s the meaning of this?” He addressed no one in particular. “I
wanted to go out to get a bit of fresh air, and this bully dragged me
down-stairs----”
Snitkin looked toward Markham.
“I was told by Sergeant Heath not to let any one leave the house, and
this guy tries to make a getaway. Full of hauchoor, too.… Whaddya want
done with him?”
“I see no reason why the doctor shouldn’t take an airin’, don’t y’
know.” Vance spoke to Markham. “We sha’n’t want to confer with him
till later.”
“It’s bully with me,” Heath agreed. “There’s too many people in this
house anyway.”
Markham nodded to Snitkin.
“You may let the doctor go for a walk, officer.” He shifted his gaze
to Bliss. “Please be back, sir, in half an hour or so. We’ll want to
question you.”
“I’ll be back before that,--I only want to go over in the park for a
while.” Bliss seemed nervous and distraught. “I feel unusually heavy
and suffocated. My ears are ringing frightfully.”
“And, I take it,” put in Vance, “you’ve been inordinately thirsty.”
The doctor regarded him with mild surprise.
“I’ve consumed at least a gallon of water since going to my room. I
hope I’m not in for an attack of malaria.…”
“I hope not, sir. I believe you’ll feel perfectly normal later on.”
Bliss hesitated on the door-sill.
“Anything new?” he asked.
“Oh, much.” Vance spoke without enthusiasm. “But we’ll talk of that
later.”
Bliss frowned and was about to ask another question; but he changed
his mind, and bowing, went away, Snitkin trailing after him sourly.