THE CHINESE GENTLEMAN
I could not repress an unconscious, involuntary start on hearing this
remarkable declaration; it seemed to open, as widely as suddenly, an
entirely new field of vision; it was as if some hand had abruptly torn
aside a veil and shown me something that I had never dreamed of. And
Baxter laughed, significantly.
"That strikes you, Middlebrook?" he said.
"Very forcibly, indeed!" said I. "If what you say is true--I mean, if
one of those two men had such valuables on him, then there's a reason
for the murder of both that none of us knew of. But--is it probable
that the Quicks would still be in possession of jewels that you saw
some years ago?"
"Not so many years ago, when all's said and done," he answered. "And
you couldn't dispose of things like those very readily, you know. You
can take it from me, knowing what I did of them, that neither Noah nor
Salter Quick would sell anything unless at its full value, or
something like it. They weren't hard up for money, either of them;
they could afford to wait, in the matter of a sale of anything, until
they found somebody who would give their price."
"You say these things--rubies, I think--were worth a lot of money?" I
asked.
"Heaps of money!" he affirmed. "Do you know anything about rubies? Not
much?--well, the ruby, I daresay you do know, is the most precious of
precious stones. The real true ruby, the Oriental one, is found in
greatest quantity in Burma and Siam, and the best are those that come
from Mogok, which is a district lying northward of Mandalay. These
rubies that the Quicks had came from there--they were remarkably fine
ones. And I know how and where those precious villains got them!"
"Yes?" I said, feeling that another dark story lay behind this
declaration. "Not honestly, I suppose?"
"Far from it!" he replied, with a grim smile. "Those two rubies formed
the eyes of some ugly god or other in a heathen temple in the
Kwang-Tung province of Southern China where the Quicks carried on more
nefarious practices than that. They gouged them out--according to
their own story. Then, of course, they cleared off."
"You saw the rubies?" I asked.
"More than once--on that island in the Yellow Sea," he answered. "Noah
and Salter would have bartered either, or both, for a ship at one
period. But!" he added, with a sneering laugh, "you may lay your life
that when they boarded that Chinese fishing-boat on which they made
their escape they'd pay for their passage as meanly as possible.
No--my belief is that they still had those rubies on them when they
turned up in England again, and that, as likely as not, they were
murdered for them. Take all the circumstances of the murder into
consideration--in each case the dead man's clothing was ripped to
pieces, the linings examined, even the padding at chest and shoulder
torn out and scattered about. What were the murderers seeking for? Not
for money--as far as I remember, each man had a good deal of money on
him, and not a penny was touched. What was it, then? My own belief is
that after Salter Quick joined Noah at Devonport, both brothers were
steadily watched by men who knew what they had on them, and that when
Salter came North he was followed, just as Noah was tracked down at
Saltash. And I should say that whoever murdered them got the
rubies--they may have been on Noah; they may have been on Salter; one
may have been in Salter's possession; one in Noah's. But there--in the
rubies--lies, in my belief, the secret of those murders."
I felt that here, in this lonely cove, we were probably much nearer
the solution of the mystery that had baffled Scarterfield, ourselves,
the police, and everybody that we knew. And so, apparently, did Miss
Raven, who suddenly turned on Baxter with a look that was half an
appeal.
"Mr. Baxter!" she said, colouring a little at her own temerity. "Why
don't you follow Mr. Middlebrook's advice--give up the old silver and
the rest of it to the authorities and help them to track down those
murderers? Wouldn't that be better than--whatever it is that you're
doing?"
But Baxter laughed, flung away his cigar, and rose to his feet.
"A deal better--from many standpoints, my dear young lady!" he
exclaimed. "But too late for Netherfield Baxter. He's an Ishmael!--a
pirate--a highwayman--and it's too late for him to do anything but
gang his own gait. No!--I'm not going to help the police--not I! I've
enough to do to keep out of their way."
"You'll get caught, you know," I said, as good-humouredly as possible.
"You'll never get this stuff that's upstairs across the Atlantic and
into New York or Boston or any Yankee port without detection. As you
are treating us well, your secret's safe enough with us--but think,
man, of the difficulties of taking your loot across an ocean!--to say
nothing of Customs officers on the other side."
"I never said we were going to take it across the Atlantic," he
answered coolly and with another of his cynical laughs. "I said we
were going to sail this bit of a craft across there--so we are. But
when we strike New York or New Orleans or Pernambuco or Buenos Ayres,
Middlebrook, the stuff won't be there--the stuff, my lad, won't leave
British waters! Deep, deep, is your queer acquaintance, Netherfield
Baxter, and if he does run risks now and then, he always provides for
'em."
"Evidently you intend to tranship your precious cargo?" I suggested.
"The door of its market is yawning for it, Middlebrook, and not far
away," he answered. "If this craft drops in at Aberdeen, or at Thurso,
or at Moville, and the Customs folks or any other such-like hawks and
kites come aboard, they'll find nothing but three innocent gentlemen
and their servants a-yachting it across the free seas. _Verbum
sapienti_, Middlebrook, as we said in my Latin days--far off, now!
But--wouldn't Miss Raven like to retire?--it's late. I'll send Chuh
with hot water--if you want anything, Middlebrook, command him. As for
me, I shan't see you again tonight--I must keep a watch for my pal
coming aboard from his little mission ashore."
Then, with curt politeness, he bade us both good night, and went off
on deck, and we two captives looked at each other.
"Strange man!" murmured Miss Raven. She gave me a direct glance that
had a lot of meaning in it. "Mr. Middlebrook," she went on in a still
lower voice, "let me tell you that I'm not afraid. I'm sure that man
means no personal harm to us. But--is there anything you want to say
to me before I go?"
"Only this," I answered. "Do you sleep very soundly?"
"Not so soundly that I shouldn't hear if you called me," she replied.
"I'm going to mount guard here," I said. "I, too, believe in what
Baxter says. But--if I should, for any reason, have occasion to call
you during the night, do at once precisely what I tell you to do."
"Of course," she said.
The Chinaman who had been in evidence at intervals since our arrival
came into the little saloon with a can of hot water and disappeared
into the inner cabin which had been given up to Miss Raven. She softly
said good-night to me, with a reassurance of her confidence that all
would be well, and followed him. I heard her talking to this strange
makeshift for a maid for a moment or two; then the man came out,
grinning as if well-pleased with himself, and she closed and fastened
the door on him. The Chinaman turned to me, asking in a soft voice if
there was anything I pleased to need.
"Nothing but the rugs and pillows that your master spoke of," I
answered.
He opened a locker on the floor of the place and producing a number of
cushions and blankets from it made me up a very tolerable couch. Then,
with a polite bow, he, too, departed, and I was left alone.
Of one thing I was firmly determined--I was not going to allow myself
to sleep. I firmly believed in Baxter's good intentions--in spite of
his record, strange and shady by his own admission, there was
something in him that won confidence; he was unprincipled, without
doubt, and the sort of man who would be all the worse if resisted,
being evidently naturally wayward, headstrong, and foolishly
obstinate, but like all bad men, he had good points, and one of his
seemed to be a certain pride in showing people like ourselves that he
could behave himself like a gentleman. That pride--a species of
vanity, of course--would, I felt sure, make him keep his word to us
and especially to Miss Raven. But he was only one amongst a crowd. For
anything I knew, his French friend might be as consummate a villain as
ever walked, and the Chinese in the galley cut-throats of the best
quality. And there, behind a mere partition, was a helpless girl--and
I was unarmed. It was a highly serious and unpleasant situation, at
the best of it, and the only thing I could do was to keep awake and
remain on the alert until morning came.
I took off coat and waistcoat, folded a blanket shawl-wise around my
shoulders, wrapped another round my legs, and made myself fairly
comfortable in the cushions which the Chinaman had deftly arranged in
an angle of the cabin. I had directed him to settle my night's
quarters in a corner close to Miss Raven's door, and immediately
facing the half-dozen steps which led upwards to the deck. At the head
of those steps was a door; I had bade him leave it open, so that I
might have plenty of air; when he had gone I had extinguished the lamp
which swung from the roof. And now, half-sitting, half-lying amongst
my cushions and rugs, I faced the patch of sky framed in that open
doorway and saw that the night was a clear one and that the heavens
were full of glittering stars.
I had just refilled and lighted my pipe before settling down to my
vigils, and for a long time I lay there smoking and thinking. My
thoughts were somewhat confused--confused, at any rate, to the extent
that they ranged over a variety of subjects--our apprehension that
afternoon; the queer, almost, if not wholly, eccentric character of
Netherfield Baxter; his strange story of the events in the Yellow Sea;
his frank avowal of his share in the theft of the monastic spoils; his
theory about Noah and Salter Quick, and other matters arising out of
these things. The whirl of it all in my anxious brain made me more
than once feel disposed to sleep; I realized that in spite of
everything, I should sleep unless I kept up a stern determination to
remain awake. Everything on board that strange craft was as still as
the skies above her decks; I heard no sound whatever save a very
gentle lapping of the water against the vessel's timbers, and,
occasionally, the far-off hooting of owls in the woods that overhung
the cove; these sounds, of course, were provocative of slumber; I had
to keep smoking to prevent myself from dropping into a doze. And
perhaps two hours may have gone in this fashion, and it was, I should
think, a little after midnight, when I heard, at first far away
towards the land, then gradually coming nearer, the light, slow
plashing of oars that gently and leisurely rose and fell.
This, of course, was the Frenchman, coming back from his mission to
Berwick--he would, I knew, have gone there from the little wayside
station that lay beyond the woods at the back of the cove and have
returned by a late train to the same place. Somehow--I could not well
account for it--the mere fact of his coming back made me nervous and
uneasy. I was not so certain about his innocence in the matter of
Salter Quick's murder. On Baxter's own showing the Frenchman had been
hanging about that coast for some little time, just when Salter Quick
descended upon it. He, like Baxter, if Baxter's story were true, was
aware that one or other of the Quicks carried those valuable rubies;
even if, the York episode being taken for granted, he had not killed
Salter Quick himself he might be privy to the doings of some
accomplice who had. Anyway, he was a doubtful quantity, and the mere
fact that he was back again on that yawl made me more resolved than
ever to keep awake and preserve a sharp look-out.
I heard the boat come alongside; I heard steps on the deck just
outside my open door; then, Baxter's voice. Presently, too, I heard
other voices--one that of the Frenchman, which I recognised from
having heard him speak in the afternoon; the other a soft, gentle,
laughing voice--without doubt that of an Eastern. This, of course,
would be the Chinese gentleman of whom I had heard--the man who had
been seen in company with Baxter and the Frenchman at Hull. So now the
three principal actors in this affair were all gathered together,
separated from me and Miss Raven by a few planks, and close by were
three Chinese of whose qualities I knew nothing. Safe we might be--but
we were certainly on the very edge of a hornet's nest.
I heard the three men talking together in low, subdued tones for a few
minutes; then they went along the deck above me and the sound of their
steps ceased. But as I lay there in the darkness, two round discs of
light suddenly appeared on a mirror which hung on the boarding of the
cabin, immediately facing me, and turning my head sharply, I saw that
in the bulkhead behind me there were two similar holes, pierced in
what was probably a door, which would, no doubt, be sunk flush with
the boarding and was possibly the entrance to some other cabin that
could be entered from a further part of the deck. Behind that, under a
newly-lighted lamp, the three men were now certainly gathered.
I was desperately anxious to know what they were doing--anxious, to
the point of nervousness, to know what they looked like, taken in
bulk. I could hear them talking in there, still in very low tones, and
I would have given much to hear even a few words of their
conversation. And after a time of miserable indecision--for I was
afraid of doing anything that would lead to suspicion or resentment on
their part, and I was by no means sure that I might not be under
observation of one of those silky-footed Chinese from the galley--I
determined to look through the holes in the door and see whatever was
to be seen.
I got out of my wrappings and my corner so noiselessly that I don't
believe anyone actually present in my cabin would have heard even a
rustle, and tip-toeing in my stockinged feet across to the bulkhead
which separated me from the three men, put an eye to one of the holes.
To my great joy, I then found that I could see into the place to which
Baxter and his companions had retreated. It was a sort of cabin,
rougher in accommodation than that in which I stood, fitted with bunks
on three sides and furnished with a table in the center over which
swung a lamp. The three men stood round this table, examining some
papers--the lamp-light fell full on all three. Baxter stood there in
his shirt and trousers; the Frenchman also was half-dressed, as if
preparing for rest. But the third man was still as he had come
aboard--a little, yellow-faced, dapper, sleek Chinaman, whose smart,
velvet-collared overcoat, thrown open, revealed an equally smart dark
tweed suit beneath it, and an elegant gold watch-chain festooned
across the waistcoat. He was smoking a cigar, just lighted; that it
was of a fine brand I could tell by the aroma that floated to me. And
on the table before the three stood a whisky bottle, a syphon of
mineral water, and glasses, which had evidently just been filled.
Baxter and the Frenchman stood elbow to elbow; the Frenchman held in
his hands a number of sheets of paper, foolscap size, to the contents
of which he was obviously drawing Baxter's attention. Presently they
turned to a desk which stood in one corner of the place, and Baxter,
lifting its lid, produced a big ledger-like book, over which they
bent, evidently comparing certain entries in it with the papers in the
Frenchman's hand. What book or papers might be, I of course, knew
nothing, for all this was done in silence. But had I known anything,
or heard anything, it would have seemed of no significance compared
with what I just then saw--a thing that suddenly turned me almost sick
with a nameless fear and set me trembling from toe to finger.
The dapper and smug Chinaman, statuesque on one side of the table,
immovable save for an occasional puff of his cigar, suddenly shot into
silent activity as the two men turned their backs on him and bent,
apparently absorbed, over the desk in the corner. Like a flash (it
reminded me of the lightning-like movement of a viper) his long, thin
fingers went into a waistcoat pocket; like a flash emerged, shot to
the glasses on the table and into two of them dropped something small
and white--some tabloid or pellet--that sank and dissolved as rapidly
as it was put in. It was all over, all done, within, literally, the
fraction of a second; when, a moment or two later, Baxter and the
Frenchman turned round again, after throwing the ledger-like book and
the papers into the desk, their companion was placidly smoking his
cigar and sipping the contents of his glass between the whiffs.
I was by that time desperately careless as to whether I might or might
not be under observation from the open door and stairway of my own
cabin. I remained where I was, my eye glued to that ventilation-hole,
watching. For it seemed to me that the Chinaman was purposely drugging
his companions, for some insidious purpose of his own--in that case,
what of the personal safety of Miss Raven and myself? For one moment I
was half-minded to rush round to the other cabin and tell Baxter of
what I had just seen--but I reflected that I might possibly bring
about there and then an affair of bloodshed and perhaps murder in
which there would be four Chinese against three others, one of
whom--my miserable self--was not only unarmed, but like enough to be
useless in a scene of violence. No--the only thing was to wait, and
wait I did, with a thumping heart and tingling nerves, watching.
Nothing happened. Baxter gulped down his drink at a single draught;
the Frenchman took his in two leisurely swallows; each flung himself
on his bunk, pulled his blankets about him, and, as far as I could
see, seemed to fall asleep instantly. But the Chinaman was more
deliberate and punctilious. He took his time over his cigar and his
whisky; he pulled out a suit-case from some nook or other and produced
from it a truly gorgeous sleeping-suit of gaily-striped silk; it
occupied him quite twenty minutes to get undressed and into this
grandeur, and even then he lingered, fiddling about in carefully
folding and arranging his garment. In the course of this, and in
moving about the narrow cabin, he took apparently casual glances at
Baxter and the Frenchman, and I saw from his satisfied, quiet smirk
that each was sound and fast asleep. And then he thrust his feet into
a pair of bedroom slippers, as loud in their colouring as his
pyjamas, and suddenly turning down the lamp with a twist of his
wicked-looking fingers, he glided out of the door into the darkness
above. At that I, too, glided swiftly back to my blankets.