Chan smiled to himself, and after spending a few moments in the library, went to his cabin. His first act there was to take out Duff's notes, and study them once again. What he read seemed to please him, and he went cheerfully to bed, where he enjoyed the most complete rest he had yet encountered aboard the boat.

Early the next morning Charlie met Maxy Minchin pacing the deck, grimly determined on exercise. He fell into step beside the gangster.

"h.e.l.lo, Officer," Maxy said. "Swell morning after the storm."

"Storm?" Chan inquired.

"I mean that snappy little party I give last night. Say, maybe them birds didn't mix it, hey? Hope you had a good time?"

"An excellent one," smiled the Chinese.

"Well, I was a little anxious myself," Maxy returned. "A guy that's host, he can't get much of a kick out of a roughhouse like that. I thought for a minute it was going to end in a pair of bracelets for some bimbo. But after all was said and done, I guess you was just as far from a pinch as ever."

Chan sighed ponderously.

"I fear I was."

"It's sure some mystery," Maxy went on. "Me, I can't figure why any guy'd want to rub out that nice old gentleman. Something Tait said made me think mebbe it was all a mistake - mebbe Drake got took for a ride because they thought he was somebody else. Such things do happen. I remember once in Chicago - but why should I let a bull in on that? What I was going to say, we had a little excitement in our cabin last night."

"Yes? Of what nature?" Charlie was mildly curious.

"Us rich millionaires," Maxy continued, "we gotta keep our eyes peeled every minute. The word goes round we're rolling in jack, and after that, good night! I don't know what the world's coming to. No respect for property rights no more - it's disgusting. Sadie went back to the cabin, and there was a biscuit boy going through things like a Kansas cyclone."

"What a pity," Chan answered. "I trust nothing valuable was taken."

"That's the funny angle on it. There was all that jewelry Sadie's been copping on to - valuable stuff. I ought to know, I come across for it. And when Sadie went into the cabin, there was this c.h.i.n.k -"

"Ah - er - no matter -" cried Chan, catching himself in time.

"There was this c.h.i.n.k, with a bunch of old hotel labels in his hand."

"You have collection of such labels?" Charlie inquired.

"Yeah - I been picking *em up from each hotel we been to. Going to take *em home to little Maxy - that's my son - so he can paste *em on his suitcase. He wanted to come along with us, but I tells him an education comes first. You stay here and learn to talk right, I says. Even a bootlegger's got to speak good language nowadays, a.s.sociating with the best people the way he does. Not that I want Maxy in the racket - he'll have all he can do to manage the estate. I'll bring you the labels, I says to him. It'll be as good as taking the trip. And as I just been telling you, with all Sadie's valuables laying around, it was them labels that caught the c.h.i.n.k's eye. But he only had time to pinch one of *em."

"Ah - one is missing?"

"Yeah. The wife noticed it right off the bat. The swellest one in the bunch - we both remembered speaking of it when we got it - how pleased little Maxy would be. A Calcutta hotel. But it was gone. We couldn't dig it up nowhere."

Charlie turned and stared at the gangster. The simple innocence of that dark face amazed him. Nothing there save the anxiety of an indulgent father.

"I tossed in a kick to the purser," Mr. Minchin went on, "but he tells me he searched the c.h.i.n.k and he was clean. I guess he'd made away with the label. In Chi. in the old days he'd'a' got a pineapple in his soup for this. But - oh, well - let it ride. Little Maxy won't know what he missed - and that's something."

"I congratulate you," said Chan. "Life has made you philosopher, which means peaceful days ahead."

"That's the kind I got a yen for now," Minchin replied. They finished the walk in silence.

Early that afternoon Charlie met the unpleasant Captain Keane. The Chinese was inclined to ignore the encounter, but the captain stopped him.

"Well?" Keane began.

"Yes?" returned Chan.

"That dinner last night. Quite a few developments."

"Plenty for me," Keane replied. "As far as I can see, the matter begins to look pretty plain."

"You mean Mr. Benbow?"

"Benbow, my hat! Don't try to kid me. Lofton's my choice, and has been from the start. Do you know, he told me at San Remo that the tour was off? Why? Elementary, my dear Mr. Chan. Duff forced him to go on, but he didn't want to do it. He'd finished his job."

"You think that is proof enough to convict in English courts?"

"No - I know it isn't. I'm working on the case, though. Miss Potter has authorized me to go ahead, and she's promised to pay up if I make good."

Chan glared at him. "You did not mention my name?"

"Why should I? You're going to be on the outside looking in before this case is ended. Go ahead - look wise. I suppose you think I'm on the wrong track."

"Not at all," Chan answered.

"What?"

"Why should I think that? The stupidest man in the town may point out the road to the school."

"And just what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Old Chinese saying."

"I don't think much of it," answered Keane, and went on his way.

The afternoon pa.s.sed swiftly, while the ship sailed on across a calm and sunlit sea. Evening came - the last of his evenings but one - and Chan was as calm as the sea. He prepared for dinner and, stepping out on to the deck, saw Tait about to enter the smoking-room.

"Won't you join me, Mr. Chan?" the lawyer invited.

Charlie shook his head. "I am seeking Mr. Kennaway," he replied.

"Still in the cabin when I left," Tait said.

"And number is -" the Chinese inquired.

Tait gave him this quite unnecessary information, and Chan walked away. He found Mark Kennaway busy with a black tie.

"Oh, come in, Mr. Chan," the young man greeted him. "Just trying to beautify the old facade."

"Yes - the time in Miss Pamela's society is growing brief," Charlie smiled.

"Why bring that up?" asked Kennaway. "Always look your best - that's my motto. There may be somebody about who wants to hire a lawyer."

Chan closed the door. "I have called for a private talk with you," he announced. "I must have your word of honor you will keep what is said in dark."

"Naturally." Kennaway seemed surprised.

Charlie dropped to his knees and dragged from beneath one of the beds the suitcase with the interesting label. He pointed to the latter.

"You will regard that, please."

"You mean the label from the Great Eastern Hotel in Calcutta? What about it?"

"Do you recall - was it there when you left Calcutta?"

"Why, of course. I noticed it after I got on the boat at Diamond Harbor. It's so striking one could hardly overlook it."

"You are certain this is the label you saw on that occasion?"

"Well - how could I be certain of that? I saw one just like it."

"Precisely," answered Chan. "You saw one just like it. But you did not see this one."

Kennaway came closer. "What do you mean?" he inquired.

"I mean that at some later date, second label was pasted neatly over the first. And between the two - Will you kindly run fingers over surface?"

The young man did so. "What's this?" he frowned. "Feels like a key."

"It is a key," Charlie nodded. "Duplicate of the one found in hand of Hugh Morris Drake one February morning in Broome's Hotel."

Kennaway whistled softly. "Who put it on my bag?" he asked.

"I wonder," said Chan slowly.

The young man sat down on the edge of his bed, thinking deeply. His eyes strayed across the room to another bed, on which lay a pair of pajamas. "I wonder, too," he said. He and Charlie exchanged a long look.

"I will put suitcase back in place," remarked the detective with sudden briskness. He did so. "You will say nothing of this to living soul. Keep eye on key. It will, I think, be removed before ship reaches port. Kindly inform me the moment it is gone."

The door opened abruptly, and Tait came in. "Ah, Mr. Chan," he said. "Pardon me. Is this a private conference?"

"Not at all," Charlie a.s.sured him.

"I found I had no handkerchief," Tait explained. He opened a drawer and took one out. "Won't you join me for an appetizer - both of you?"

"So sorry not to do so," the Chinese answered. "What I require mostly is non-appetizer." He went out, smiling and serene.

After dinner, he found Mrs. Luce and Pamela Potter seated together in deck chairs.

"May I intrude my obnoxious presence?" he inquired.

"Sit down, Mr. Chan," the old lady said. "I'm not seeing much of you on this trip. But then, I suppose you're a busy man?"

"Not so much busy as I expected to be," he answered quietly.

"Really?" She gave him a questioning look. "Lovely evening, isn't it? This weather reminds me of the South African veldt. I spent a year there once."

"You have pretty well investigated the map."

"Yes - I've been about. Think now I'll settle down in Pasadena - but that feeling is usual with me just as I finish a long tour. Some day I'll pa.s.s a window filled with steamship folders - and then I'll be off again."

Charlie turned to the girl. "May I, with rude boldness, inquire about last evening? Maybe you led young man on - a little farther?"

"When I was a small girl," she smiled, "I used to build snow men. It's been interesting to meet one who can walk about."

"You have two more nights - with plenty good moon shining."

"It wouldn't help if they were Arctic nights, and six months long," she told him. "I'm afraid the last returns are in."

"Do not despair," Chan replied. "Perseverance wins. A matter I have proved in my own endeavors. By the way, did you promise Captain Keane reward if he finds slayer of your grandfather?"

"Why, no."

"But he has talked with you about it?"

"He hasn't talked with me about anything."

Chan's eyes narrowed. "The truth is not in him. We will say no more of that." He glanced at a sheet of paper and pencil in the girl's hand. "Pardon me - I think I interrupt. You are writing letter?"

She shook her head. "No, I - I - well, as a matter of fact, I was merely puzzling over our mystery. The time is getting rather short, you know."

"No one could know it better," he nodded gravely.

"And it doesn't seem to me that we're getting anywhere. Oh - I'm sorry - but you came into the case rather late. You really haven't had a chance. I was just making a list of men in our party, and opposite the name of each, I've been putting down the things against him. So far as I can see, every single one of them except Mr. Minchin and Mark Kennaway has been under a cloud at one time or another -"

"Your list is not correct. Those two, also, have no claim to clean record."

She gasped. "You mean every man in the party has been involved?"

Chan rose, and gently removed the paper from her hand. He tore it into tiny fragments and, walking to the rail, tossed them overboard.

"Do not worry pretty head over matter," he advised, coming back. "It is already settled."

"What do you mean?" she cried.

"Of course, there remains stern quest for proofs acceptable to English courts, but these will yet be found."

"You mean you know who killed my grandfather?"

"You yourself do not know?" inquired Charlie.

"Of course I don't. How should I?"