Behind That Curtain · Chapter 6 (2/2)

“Only that once.”

Miss Morrow rose. “Thank you very much. That is all for the present. I trust Mr. Kinsey has apologized?”

The girl smiled. “Oh, yes⁠—that’s all right now. Thank you for asking.” She went out quickly.

Barry Kirk had disappeared from the room, and now he returned. “Kinsey’s on his way up,” he announced. “Grab him quick before they can compare notes⁠—that was my idea. Getting to be some little detective myself.”

“Excellent,” nodded Miss Morrow approvingly. A tall, dark young man, very well dressed, came in.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Kirk?” he inquired.

“Yes. Sorry to butt into your private affairs, Kinsey, but I hear you are sort of engaged to a Miss Lila Barr, who works in one of the offices. Did you know about it?”

Kinsey smiled. “Of course, Mr. Kirk. I have been meaning to mention the matter to you, but the opportunity hasn’t offered.”

“Day before yesterday you had a bit of a quarrel with her?”

“Oh, it was nothing, sir.” Kinsey’s dark face clouded. “It’s all fixed up now.”

“That’s good. But on that evening, contrary to your custom, you didn’t wait to take her home? You walked out on her?”

“I⁠—I’m afraid I did. I was somewhat annoyed⁠—”

“And you wanted to teach her a lesson. What I call the proper spirit. That’s all⁠—and please pardon these personal questions.”

“Quite all right, sir.” Kinsey turned to go, but hesitated. “Mr. Kirk⁠—”

“Yes, Kinsey?”

“Nothing, sir,” said Kinsey, and disappeared.

Kirk turned to Miss Morrow. “There you are. The story of Miss Lila Barr, duly authenticated.”

“Such a reasonable story, too,” sighed the girl. “But it gets us nowhere. I must say I’m disappointed. Mr. Chan⁠—you thought I went too far⁠—on India?”

Chan shrugged. “In this game, better if the opponent does not know what we are thinking. Assume great innocence is always my aim. Sometimes what I assume is exactly what I’ve got. Others⁠—I am flying at a low altitude.”

“I’m afraid I should have flown at a lower altitude than I did,” the girl reflected, frowning. “Her story was perfectly plausible, and yet⁠—I don’t know⁠—”

“Well, one thing’s certain,” remarked Kirk. “She’s not Eve Durand.”

“How do you know that?” asked Miss Morrow.

“Why⁠—her age. She’s a mere kid.”

Miss Morrow laughed. “Lucky a woman is in on this,” she said. “You men are so painfully blind where a blonde is concerned.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there are certain artifices which fool a man, but never fool a woman. Miss Barr is thirty⁠—at the very least.”

Kirk whistled. “I must be more careful,” he said. “I thought her sweet and twenty.”

He turned to find Paradise at his elbow. The butler had entered noiselessly, and was holding out a silver tray in the manner of one offering rich treasure.

“What shall I do with these, sir?” he inquired.

“Do with what?” Kirk asked.

“Letters addressed to Sir Frederic Bruce, sir. They have just been delivered by the local office of Thomas Cook and Sons.”

Miss Morrow came eagerly forward. “I’ll take charge of them,” she said. Paradise bowed, and went out. The girl’s eyes sparkled. “We never thought of this, Sergeant. Sir Frederic’s mail⁠—it may prove a gold mine.” She held up a letter. “Here⁠—the first thing⁠—one from London. The Metropolitan Police, Scotland Yard⁠—”

Quickly she ripped open the envelope and withdrawing a single sheet of paper, spread it out. She gave a little cry of dismay.

Kirk and Charlie Chan came nearer. They stared at the sheet of paper that had arrived in the envelope from Scotland Yard. It was just that⁠—a sheet of paper⁠—completely blank.