The Mandarin's Fan. Fergus Hume

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СКАЧАТЬ had contained himself with difficulty all this time, and had grown very red in the face. The colour changed to a lively purple, as he burst out. "See here Forge what's the use of talking to me in this way. You have that fan."

      "Have I," said Forge smiling gently.

      "Yes. You know well enough that the very fan—the jade fan with the five beads, was the cause of my getting into trouble in Canton. You got me out of the trouble and you asked me to give you the fan, when I thanked you."

      "And you refused," said Forge still smiling.

      "Well I did at first," said Tidman sulkily. "I risked my life over the beastly thing, and—"

      Forge raised a thin hand. "Spare yourself the recital. I know."

      "Well then," went on Tidman excitedly. "You asked again for it when you came home, and I gave it to you. Ainsleigh is quite right. He did see the fan. I showed it to him one day before you arrived. I see he has forgotten, but any stray thought may revive his memory. I don't want him to have the fan."

      "Why not?" asked Forge shutting his knife with a click.

      "Because I want the five thousand pounds for myself. I'm not so well off as people think, and I want—"

      "You forget," said Forge gently, "you gave me the fan."

      "And have you got it?"

      "I have," he nodded towards a cabinet of Chinese work adorned with quaint figures, "it's in there."

      "Give it to me back."

      "No. I think I'll keep it."

      "What do you want to do with it?" asked Tidman angrily.

      Forge rose and looked stern, "I want to keep it from Lo-Keong," he said savagely, "there's some secret connected with that fan. I can't understand what the secret is or what the fan has to do with it: but it means life and death to this Mandarin. He'd give ten thousand—twenty thousand to get that fan back. But he shan't."

      "Oh," groaned the Major, "why did I give it to you. To think that such a lot of money should go begging. If I had only known what the fan was worth."

      "You knew nothing about it save as a curiosity."

      "How do you know," demanded the Major.

      Forge who had turned towards the cabinet wheeled round and looked more like a hawk than ever as he pounced on the stout man. "What do you know?" and he clawed Tidman's plump shoulders.

      "Let me go confound you," blustered the Major, "what do you mean by assaulting a gentleman—"

      "A gentleman." Forge suddenly released the Major and laughed softly, "does Benjamin Tidman, old Farmer Tidman's son call himself so. Why I remember you—"

      "Yes I know you do, and so does that infernal Pewsey cat."

      Forge suddenly became attentive. "Miss Pewsey if you please. She is my friend. I may—" Forge halted and swallowed something. "I may even marry her some day."

      "What," shouted Tidman backing to the wall, "that old—old—"

      "Gently my good Benjamin, gently."

      "But—but you're not a marrying man."

      "We never know what we are till we die," said Forge turning again towards the black cabinet, "but you needn't mention what I have said. If you do," Forge snarled like an angry cat and shot one glance from his gray eyes that made Tidman shiver: then he resumed his gentle tone. "About this fan. I'll make a bargain with you."

      "What's that?" asked the Major avariciously.

      "I'll show you the fan, and if you can guess it's secret, I'll let you give it to this Tung-yu or Hwei or Kan-su or whatever he likes to call himself."

      "But you don't want Lo-Keong to have the fan," said the Major doubtfully.

      Forge opened the cabinet slowly. "So long as I learn the secret he can have the fan. I want to ruin him. He's a devil and—ah—" he started back. "The fan—the fan—"

      "What is it?" asked Tidman, craning over Forge's shoulder at an empty drawer, "where is the fan?"

      "Lost," cried Forge furiously, and looked like a dangerous grey rat.

      "Five thousand pounds gone," moaned the Major.

      "My life you fool—my life," cried the doctor, "it is at stake."

CHAPTER III

       Table of Contents

      Miss Wharf at Home

      The best houses in Marport were situated on the Cliffs. They stood a considerable way back and had small plots of ground before them cultivated or not, according to the taste of those who owned them. Some of these gardens were brilliant with flowers, others had nothing but shrubs in them, presenting rather a sombre appearance, and a few were bare sun-burnt grass plots, with no adornment whatsoever. A broad road divided the gardens from the grassy undulations of the cliffs, and along this thoroughfare, rolled carriages, bicycles, and motor-cars all day during the season. Then came the grass on the cliff-tops which stretched for a long distance, and which was dotted with shelters for nervous invalids. At one end there was a round bandstand where red-coated musicians played lively airs from the latest musical comedy. Round the stand were rows of chairs hired out at twopence an afternoon, and indeed, all over the lawns, seats of various kinds were scattered. At the end of the grass, the cliffs sloped gradually and were intersected with winding paths, which led downward to the asphalt Esplanade which ran along the water's edge, when the tide was high, and beside evil-smelling mud when the tide was out. And on what was known as the beach—a somewhat gritty strand—were many bathing machines. Such was the general appearance of Marport which the Essex people looked on as a kind of Brighton, only much better.

      Miss Sophia Wharf owned a cosy little house at the far end of the cliffs, and just at the point where Marport begins to melt into the country. It was a modern house comfortably furnished and brilliant with electric lights. The garden in front of it was well taken care of, there were scarlet and white shades to the windows and flower boxes filled with blossoms on the sills. Everyone who passed remarked on the beauty of the house, and Miss Wharf was always pleased when she heard them envy her possessions. She liked to possess a Naboth's Vineyard of her own, and appreciated it the more, when others would have liked to take it. She had an income of one thousand a year and therefore could live very comfortably. The house (Ivy Lodge was it's highly original name) was her own, bought in the days when Marport was nothing but a fishing village. She knew everyone in the neighbourhood, was a staunch friend to the vicar who was high church and quite after her own heart in the use of banners, incense, candles and side-altars, and on the whole was one of the leading ladies of the place. She had the reputation of being charitable, but this was owing to Miss Pewsey who constantly trumpeted the bestowal of any stray shilling being by her patroness.

      Miss Wharf was a lady of good family, but had quarrelled with her relatives. She was a tall, cold, blonde woman who had once been handsome and still retained a certain portion of good СКАЧАТЬ