Эрл Гарднер - The Amazing Adventures of Lester Leith

“Beaver, do you realize what it means? It means that everyone figures that necklace was as much a part of Leith’s magic show as the frying pan and the fake goldfish bowl. Here we’ve traveled thousands of miles and organized an elaborate spy system to find out when he was going to steal that necklace, and damned if he doesn’t do it right in front of an audience.”

Beaver said, “Well, he can’t get away from us. We know who has the necklace now.”

Sergeant Ackley nodded..

There was a moment of silence, then Beaver said, “What pocket did he get the necklace out of, Sergeant? It was done so quick I couldn’t see.”

“You didn’t see?” Ackley asked.

“No.”

Sergeant Ackley frowned at the undercover man. “I thought so,” he said. “The whole thing was staged to happen according to schedule. The girl pretended to fall and dropped the plate. That distracted the attention of the women in the audience. A broken plate is a domestic tragedy to a woman. The men just don’t give a damn about a broken plate, so the girl had her stockings fixed so that when she stumbled, she could pull a run in one of them. She ran her hands up along her leg and that grabbed the men’s attention. At any rate, it accounted for yours.”

“I only glanced there for half a second,” Beaver said. “As soon as I did, I knew I mustn’t take my eyes off Leith, so I looked right back.”

“That half second was all he needed,” Sergeant Ackley said.

“Well,” Beaver insisted, “what pocket did he take it out of?”

“Well,” Sergeant Ackley said, “it was—”

“I thought so,” said Beaver. “You were looking at her leg too.”

There was a period of uncomfortable silence, then Sergeant Ackley said, “Okay, Beaver, we won’t try to do anything here. There are too many places on the ship where he can hide it. He’s far too clever to keep it in his stateroom, but he won’t dare to leave it on the ship. When he gets ashore in Honolulu, he’ll have it in his baggage, or on him. Now then, Beaver, it’s up to you to go through that baggage the minute he hits shore. I’ll see to it that he’s detained, and you’ll have an opportunity.”

“Suppose he has it on him?”

Sergeant Ackley laughed grimly and said, “There’s lots of ways of playing that little game. Beaver, send a wireless to the chief of police at Honolulu. Make it read like this: MAN WHO WILL DISEMBARK FROM MONTEREY WITH WHITE RIBBON PINNED TO CROWN OF HAT WILL HAVE TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS IN DOPE CONCEALED SOMEWHERE IN HIS CLOTHES.”

Sergeant Ackley beamed.

“That means they’ll search his baggage, and find the necklace,” Beaver said.

“No, it won’t,” Sergeant Ackley observed. “You see, they won’t know who it is until they see the white ribbon on the hat. As his valet, you can take his hat and brush it just before he starts ashore. Then is when you’ll pin on the white ribbon. They’ll search him first. You’ll get the baggage through before they find out anything about the setup. When they do, I’ll explain to them that it was just a joke on the part of Shogiro who was sore because Leith had made a monkey out of him in front of an audience.”

Beaver blinked thoughtfully. “It sounds like a good scheme,” he said, “only...”

“Only what?” Sergeant Ackley snapped.

“Only I have an idea it won’t work,” the undercover man blurted.

Leith, lying in a deck chair, enjoyed the tropical ocean breeze. He seemed relaxed, completely at his ease.

Mah Foy slipped into the adjoining deck chair, leaned forward, and spoke in a low voice. “It was Silman Shore who left the social ball,” she said.

“Yes, I know,” Leith said. “Where did he go, to his stateroom or somewhere else?”

“He went to his stateroom.”

“And what did he do? Do you know?”

“Yes,” she said. “I could watch him through the window. He made no attempt to conceal what he was doing. He went to his gun case, picked up his gun, took it out on deck, and started practicing. I strolled by and asked him why he wasn’t at the entertainment, and he said that amateurish stuff annoyed him, that he had to put on an exhibition the next day, and he wanted to limber up his muscles.”

Leith said, “Most interesting. I think I’ll take up skeet shooting... And by the way, tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock when Silman Shore is putting on his exhibition, I think it would be an excellent idea for you to be with the purser, and you’ll kindly tell Ora Sanders to hunt up the first mate who has been so attentive to her and spend about an hour with him.”

Mah Foy thought for a moment. “How about Scuttle?”

Leith grinned and said, “Let Scuttle be wherever he pleases.”

“And you?” she asked.

Leith smiled. “I think,” he said, “that I’ll have some business with the captain.”

Mah Foy said very gently, “That first necklace — as I glimpsed it hanging on the edge of the frying pan — seemed to be the Empress Dowager’s necklace.”

“Did it indeed?” Leith said smiling. “An excellent example of optical illusion.”

She said, “My first loyalty is to my country. I warn you.”

Leith smiled at her. “I wouldn’t want it to be otherwise,” he said.

It was a calm day with no wind. The sharp prow of the Monterey hissed through the water. Passengers, promenading the spotless decks or sprawled lazily in deck chairs, relaxed to the joys of ocean travel.

Katiska Shogiro paced the deck alone. His short, stubby legs propelled his torso with short, vigorous steps. His lips were no longer smiling. When Silman Shore stepped out of the smoking room to lounge against the rail, Shogiro saw him and stopped beside him.

“Excussse pleassse,” he said. “You are recollecting last night?”

“What about it?” Shore asked.

“Pardon intrusion upon your honorable thoughts, but did you notice necklace which came from frying pan?”

Shore snapped his fingers. “Bosh!”

“Not bosh,” Shogiro insisted. “I am particularly calling attention to necklace which you saw on night of Sansone dinner. Is not look the same?”

“I didn’t even look at it,” Shore said impatiently. “I hate all that kindergarten stuff. The minute he started pulling that old hokum, I got up and walked out.”

“Thanking you very much,” Shogiro said, and resumed pacing the deck, but this time his forehead was creased in a definite frown.

Charles Sansone sought out Leith.

“You’ll pardon me,” he said, “for intruding. I haven’t met you. My name’s Sansone. I was a very interested spectator at your performance last night.”

Leith shook hands and said, “I’m very glad to know you. I’m afraid my performance was rather crude, but then, when persons are traveling on shipboard, any form of spontaneous entertainment is interesting.”

“I was particularly interested in one phase of your performance,” Sansone said.

“Indeed. What was that?”

“When you made the necklace come out of the frying pan.”

Leith laughed deprecatingly. “I’m afraid,” he said, “I can’t explain how that was done.”

“I don’t want to know how it was done,” Sansone said. “I want to know where you got that necklace.”

Leith said, laughing, “You didn’t think it was composed of genuine pearls, did you?”

“I didn’t know,” Sansone said. “It looked very much like a necklace I saw at one time. I don’t know whether you’ve read about it or not.”

“Read about it?” Leith asked.

“Yes. A necklace which was stolen from Mr. Shogiro — unfortunately at a dinner where I was the host.”

“Oh!” Leith exclaimed.