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Updated: April 30, 2025
"I didn't know any one entertained the idea your father was murdered. He couldn't have been not the way it happened." "Nevertheless we think he was." "Oh, but Boyne start a thing like that, and think of the talk it'll make! They'll commence at once saying that there was nobody but Worth to profit by his father's death." "Don't worry, Mr. Vandeman." He made me hot.
I wondered not to have Vandeman in my hair already; but he and his consort stood in dignified silence; it was his committee who came after me, a Mephistopheles, a troubadour, an Indian brave, a Hercules with his club, swarming up the step, wanting to know if I was the man responsible, why the devil I had done it, who the devil I thought I was, anyhow. Others were close behind.
The awkward moment went by, however; I heaved a sigh of relief as they carried their ferns on into the clubhouse, and Mrs. Vandeman left me with gracious good-bys. I had the luck to cover my first inquiry by getting a lift into town from Mrs. Ormsby, young wife of the president of the First National.
At the words, Edwards stopped stock-still, something almost humorous at the back of the suffering gaze he fastened on my face. I met it steadily, then answered Vandeman, "Doesn't make any difference to anybody that those books are burned. I'd read them; I know what was in them; and I know that three leaves six pages covering the entries of May 31 and June 1, 1916, were cut out."
"Skeet, you're too outrageous!" There she sat, quite a beauty in a very superior fashion; and Worth at her side, was having his attention called to this dark young creature across the table, whose wonderful still fire, the white blossoms crowning her hair, might well have made even a lovelier than Ina Vandeman look insipid.
He'll hardly suppose he's telling us anything we don't know." And Vandeman bore out expectations. Now, provided with a raincoat to take the place of his Mandarin robe, his trousers still the lilac satin ones of that costume, he surveyed us and our preparations with a half smile as we settled our stenographer and took chairs ourselves. "I look like hell what?"
At the head of the procession as they swung around, leading it with splendid dignity, came a pair who might have been Emperor and Empress of China the Vandemans. To go on with affairs as if nothing had happened though Worth Gilbert was in jail had been the laid-down policy of both Vandeman and his wife. I'd thought it reasonable then; foolish to get hot at it now.
The people who were glad to have me in Santa Ysobel at this time belonged on the clean side of my ledger. Then I went downstairs to find Vandeman still in the living room, sprawled at ease beside the window, looking round with a display of his fine teeth, reaching a hand to pull in the chair Worth set for me.
On my honor, Bronse, I never mentioned your name or Ina's. The Chinaman told him that about some woman coming that evening " "Mr. Vandeman," I broke in, "there's no use beating about the bush. Chung recognized your wife's voice. She was the woman who came weeping to get those diary leaves." He took that with astonishing quietness, and,
By the time I'd finished out in front, getting my prisoner off to the lock-up, sending Eddie Hughes, with Capehart and the other helpers he'd picked up to guard the Vandeman bungalow, handed over to the Santa Ysobel police the matter of finding Fong Ling, and turned back to see how Barbara was getting on, the music sounded once more, the rhythmic movement of many feet.
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