Part 11 (2/2)
”Hungerfeld's all right with Markham,” Weston was saying. ”I would rather leave one man here - one competent man - than a group. We can count on Markham to be alert.”
Cardona grunted his agreement. The detective was thinking of someone other than Markham. He made remark while they waited for the elevator.
”Burke's down in the lobby, commissioner,” informed Joe. ”I told him he could stay there. He's waiting for a story. What will I do about him?”
”Bring him along,” replied Weston, in jovial tone. ”We can crowd him into one of the boats. It is better to have him with us. That will keep him from trying to interview Justin Hungerfeld.”
The elevator door clanged open. The four men entered. The door closed. The watching Chinaman crept from his hiding place, came along the corridor and stole to the door of 816. After listening for a few moments, he returned to the stairway.
Soon other faces came in view. A trio of whispering Mongols, nodding to the words of some hidden leader. These Chinamen started forward; others arrived at the top of the stairway. They edged large hampers into the corridor; then one of them crept to the door in the main corridor, the one that bore the number 814.
Slyly, this Celestial produced a large ring of keys. He began to try them in the door of Hungerfeld's inner room. The lock-picking Chinaman proved himself to be cautious as well as an expert. He fitted a key and turned it; then looked toward the stairway and nodded. The Chinamen with the hampers whispered to someone past the corner.
TWO men stepped into the corridor in answer to the signal. One was Dave Callard, his rugged features discernible despite the gloominess of the hall. The other was a squatly, bespectacled Chinaman, whose face looked owlish. Callard's companion was Leng Doy, the missing Chinese merchant.
Callard paused when he reached the door of 814. Leng Doy kept on to where the pa.s.sage turned. The Chinaman made gestures, ordering his minions to take posts. He, himself, went to the door of 816 and beckoned for two to join him. A yellow horde had gained possession of these corridors; others were s.h.i.+fting in from the stairway. A full dozen Chinamen were ready at the beck of Leng Doy. Both doors of Hungerfeld's suite were covered.
Minions were at the corner of the pa.s.sage, ready to give alarm.
They were waiting for Dave Callard to begin action. Flanked by two wiry Cantonese, the American turned the k.n.o.b of the door marked 814. He opened the barrier and peered into an empty bedroom. A large window furnished fair illumination from the dusky outside sky. Callard saw that the room was empty.
Entering, Callard left the door ajar behind him. The door to the living room was open; lamps were lighted and the sound of voices came to the intruder's ears. Justin Hungerfeld's crackly tones were answered by Markham's gruff speech.
”I shall rest a while, sergeant,” the old man was saying. ”After that, we can have dinner served here. You will dine with me, of course?”
”Sure thing,” returned Markham. ”Thanks, Mr. Hungerfeld. How long do you want to rest?”
”A half-hour nap will be sufficient.”
”O.K. I'll call you when time's up.”
Callard sidled to the wall as Hungerfeld appeared in the doorway from the living room. Markham was behind the stooped man; the detective sergeant glanced toward the window; then turned about and went back into the living room. He did not glimpse Callard. Close by the door to the hall, Dave made a signal.
It was observed by a peering Chinaman.
HUNGERFELD fumbled about and found a floor lamp. He pulled a cord; then approached the bed, intending to lie down. Again, Callard motioned. The door opened; and the two Chinamen crept in.
Hungerfeld was glancing toward the window; but his ears, surprisingly keen, must have heard the sound that the intruders made.
The old man came to his feet, turning about with surprising agility. He made no outcry, for he was staring into the muzzle of a revolver that flashed from the fist of Dave Callard. At the same moment, Hungerfeld heard a sound from the outer room. Someone was knocking at the door of 816.
The Chinamen who had entered were crouched as if to spring. Their threat was added to Dave Callard's soft hiss for silence. Hungerfeld stood motionless as Callard stole toward the connecting door. Again the rap had sounded at 816. Markham had drawn a revolver and was on his way to answer the call.
Callard watched the detective sergeant from the connecting door. There was little reason for Markham to suspect danger, for he might have thought that Weston and Cardona had decided to return. But Markham was vigilant; he was ready with his gun as he opened the door.
The detective sergeant stared into an empty hall. For a moment, he hesitated as he stood in the doorway.
Then he caught the sound of a sharp cry from Hungerfeld's bedroom. Quickly, Markham whirled about, just as the crackled call was stifled.
Hungerfeld had delivered a warning in spite of the Chinamen who threatened him. The Mongols had pounced upon him promptly, smearing their clawlike hands upon his face. That was why the cry had been stifled; yet Markham had heard it. Oddly, however, the incident had worked to the advantage of Dave Callard.
Standing with leveled gun, Callard had been ready to attract Markham's attention on his own. Hungerfeldhad saved him the trouble. Markham's spin was just what Callard wanted. It brought the intruder face to face with the detective sergeant; and Callard had the bulge.
With a defiant growl, Markham swung to aim, dropping back toward the hall as he did so. Callard could have dropped the detective sergeant with a volley, for Markham's clumsy move was a foolish one. Shots proved unnecessary, however. Before Markham could bring his gun to action, a surge of lurking Chinamen pounced upon him. The burly d.i.c.k went down beneath the deluge.
Clawing hands s.n.a.t.c.hed away Markham's revolver. Wiry Celestials rolled the fighting sergeant into the living room. Gripping fingers clutched his arms and legs; yellow fists stifled Markham's vicious protest.
Behind the surge came Leng Doy. Placidly, the owl-faced merchant closed the door to the hall while half a dozen of his Cantonese henchmen conquered the lone fighter who lay beneath them.
Ropes were coming from the pockets of these American-garbed Chinamen. Gags were being stuffed into Markham's mouth. Held helpless, the detective sergeant was trussed hand and foot. His body was doubled, his face was m.u.f.fled. All Markham could do was glare at Callard from above a wrapping of bandages.
CALLARD chuckled harshly as he recognized Markham as the d.i.c.k who had been with Cardona that night at the dock. Turning about, the young man walked into the bedroom, to find Justin Hungerfeld, subdued and helpless. The old man was huddled in a chair beside the bed.
”Do you know who I am?” demanded Callard, in a low growl. ”I'll tell you. I'm David Callard. You knew my uncle, didn't you?”
Hungerfeld hesitated; then nodded, pitifully.
”Don't be worried,” growled Callard, sourly. ”You think I'm here to kill you. Well, I'm not.” He paused; then deciding that a threat was necessary, he added in a harsh tone: ”Not if you talk the way I want.”
”The ribbon,” gasped Hungerfeld. ”I - I'll give you the ribbon. Here -”
The old man struggled and reached into his vest pocket as Callard ordered the Chinamen to ease their hold upon him. Weston had left the bit of ribbon in Hungerfeld's possession.
The old man found it where he had placed it and brought it into view. Callard plucked it from Hungerfeld's shaking fingers. He grunted as he studied the letters R X.
”Did Mallikan see this?” he demanded.
Hungerfeld nodded.
”Did he know what it meant?” continued Callard.
”Not - not at first,” responded Hungerfeld. ”But later, when he was pressed, he managed to tell us. A friend of the commissioner's decided that R X was part of a word -”
”Go on. What word?”
”The word Xerxes. The name of a s.h.i.+p.”
”The Xerxes! The old boat that ran between Hong Kong and Calcutta?”
Again, Hungerfeld nodded. ”And where is the Xerxes?” quizzed Callard. ”Did Mallikan know?”
”Yes,” replied Hungerfeld weakly. ”The vessel is with the ghost fleet, near Poughkeepsie. The police commissioner has started there by boat.”
”Is Mallikan with him?”
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