Mr. Moto Is So Sorry (24 page)

In the odd silence which followed everything in the room appeared to be motionless, so that each face was registered photographically on Calvin's mind. He saw the guards by the door and the strange, barbaric robes of the Prince's retinue, so completely out of place among the rather ugly modern furnishings. He and Captain Hamby were standing in the center of it all, for Mr. Holtz with a placid grunt had eased himself back into his chair again. On his left hand he could see Mr. Moto looking grayish white and shaken, and straight in front of him the Prince sat, his narrow eyes glittering, his lean hands upon his knees. Near him by the table was General Shirov, and farther to the right he could see Major Ahara. The saber cuts on the Major's face were livid and his lips moved soundlessly. When General Shirov spoke even his voice was like that of the Russian whom Calvin had first seen on the train, the facile international voice of the born linguist.

“There are some questions I wish to ask you,” he said to Calvin Gates. “I have heard the answers, but I wish to hear them from yourself.”

His voice had the impersonal courtesy of a magistrate in court.

“I am questioning you for personal reasons. I am General Shirov, sir, in charge of the Russian Intelligence in China. I wish to ask you about a certain silver cigarette case. It would be helpful if you answered voluntarily, for time is very pressing.”

There was another silence, and the General looked at Calvin wearily, and Calvin looked back trying to discover what sort of man it was who was speaking. There was no way to discover, because he was cloaked in a careful, unobtrusive sort of anonymity that revealed no trace of character.

“Go ahead,” said Calvin Gates, “I'll answer.”

“Thank you,” said General Shirov. “Do I understand you are an agent for some government?”

“No,” said Calvin Gates.

The General's pale eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Do you intend to convey the idea,” he asked, “that you became involved in this matter entirely through accident?”

“Yes,” said Calvin Gates. The General's fingers caressed the papers on his knee. His eyes were blue and unblinking.

“A very serious matter to be involved in just by accident, do you not think?” he said.

“Yes,” said Calvin Gates.

“Very serious and very peculiar,” the General said. “You met a Russian upon the train, between Fusan and Mukden, whose name was Boris, who was acting as courier for a young American lady—will you describe him please?”

The nose, the mouth and the protuberant blue eyes were much the same.

“He looked like you,” said Calvin Gates.

The General rustled the papers upon his knee.

“That is right,” he said, “the gentleman was my brother. Now you may appreciate my interest. My brother approached the American lady upon the train and offered her a cigarette case. You saw her take it, and that same evening my brother called upon you in your room and asked you to take charge of that cigarette case. This seems extraordinary to me, sir. Did it not seem so to you? Why do you suppose he did such a thing?”

The General's blue eyes were cool and passionless.

“He didn't have time to tell me,” Calvin Gates answered. “He was disturbed about something. I gathered that there was some danger connected with that cigarette case.”

The General nodded and sighed.

“Yes,” he said, “some danger, and I understand from Captain Hamby, who is here beside you now, that my brother was killed in your room. For personal reasons I should like to know who killed him. You say you did not, sir.”

“I didn't,” said Calvin Gates, and suddenly his mouth felt dry and parched. He was a prisoner undergoing examination at a bar of justice, and he knew that there was no particular reason why he should be believed. “Why should I have wanted to kill him?” he added.

“I do not know,” the General said. “I am trying to understand your motives, sir.” The General raised his hand from his knee and pointed to Mr. Moto. “Did this man kill him?”

“No,” said Calvin, “he did not. He came into the room just a moment afterwards. I think he was surprised.” In the silence that followed, Major Ahara drew a deep sibilant breath and stared across the room toward Mr. Moto.

“We will leave that matter for the moment,” the Russian said. “After this, you went to the lady's room and she gave you the cigarette case, and you kept it. Why did you do that?”

Calvin Gates hesitated because it was a hard enough question to answer.

“I took it because I thought she would be in danger,” he said. “I kept it because I thought we would be in danger anyway, with or without that cigarette case.” He looked at Mr. Moto and Mr. Moto stared back at him stonily. “I thought that she and I might be safer if I kept it.”

“Yes,” General Shirov said. “Were those the only reasons?”

“I guess not,” Calvin answered. “I guess I wanted to see what was going to happen. It made me forget some things about myself.”

“Oh,” said General Shirov, “some things about yourself? And you wished to protect the lady? That is peculiar, sir. And when Captain Hamby asked you for this cigarette case you did not give it to him. Why did you not?”

“Because I didn't trust him,” Calvin said.

For the first time in that interview the General's wide blue eyes left Calvin's face and turned toward Captain Hamby.

“That is something which I can believe,” he said. “Captain Hamby promised us delivery and I find a Japanese here dealing with him.”

Captain Hamby's face wrinkled into a hard, bright smile. “The Major came here,” he said. “I didn't ask him. I'm always willing to talk business, Shirov. My word, it's coming your way, isn't it?”

“It is coming my way,” said General Shirov, “because I have confided in you the latest news from Moscow—that is the only reason. Otherwise I would be the one to be marched outside.”

“Righto,” said Captain Hamby genially. “We have to use the tools at hand, General. Now if you want to talk business with the Prince—”

One moment,” said General Shirov, “one moment, please. I wish to ask this man another question. I do not trust you, Captain Hamby, about this cigarette case. I have not seen it yet. Now sir, if you please … You did not give that silver case to Captain Hamby, you kept it because you wished to protect the lady, and yet you gave it back to her and left her in Peiping. How did that protect her?”

Calvin felt his face redden. Instead of being dignified, he had been foolish, and everything he had said sounded like a tissue of falsehood, although it had only been the truth.

“I quarreled with her,” he answered; “but I came up here to find her.”

General Shirov's face relaxed into a pale, thin smile.

“That will do I think,” he said. “Who is paying you, Captain Hamby or the Japanese?”

Calvin shrugged his shoulders.

“No one's paying me,” he answered. “You can believe what I said or not.”

“Perhaps,” said General Shirov, “when I see the cigarette case—”

Captain Hamby took a step forward and his eyes were bright and angry. The Prince leaned backward in his chair and spoke in his high, thin voice.

“General Shirov,” he said, “Captain Hamby has it in his pocket. You shall make your offer. There is only one thing which I must know first. I am sorry that my English is so slow. I was taught by an Englishman. He was brought by my father from Peking, but that was long ago. It is the only language that everyone can understand, you and the Japanese.”

“Excellency,” the General answered, “your English is very good. What is it that you want to know?”

The Prince looked about him with a serene, cool dignity. “Tonight I am thinking of my people. If I sell to you, Japan will be my enemy. How can I be sure that my people will be protected? That is what I wish to know. Will a strong Russian army move to Ghuru Nor?”

The Russian agent spoke eagerly.

“There can be no doubt of it, Your Excellency,” he answered. “I was at the concentration point a week ago. They are only waiting for the message. If Japan begins further pressure on North China, three divisions will move at once into Ghuru Nor.”

There was another of those strange silences. Calvin Gates could feel his pulses beating. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mr. Moto moisten the corner of his lips, and heard him sigh.

“Well, you'll never have a better chance,” Captain Hamby said. “There's the man right in front of you who is giving the Japanese troops their orders. My word, he's your prisoner just as soon as you pay the money. You've seen the papers in your pocket, haven't you?”

The Russian took the papers from his knee and set them on the table.

“They would appear correct,” he said. “But I do not understand how he allowed you to take him. There is something that is not right.”

A sudden noise at the right of the room made Calvin turn. Major Ahara had leapt out of his chair before anyone could lay a hand upon him and in a single bound he had reached the center of the room.

“It is true that there is something that is not right,” he said. “The man sitting there is a traitor to his country.”

Mr. Moto moved uneasily in his chair.

“Please,” he said, “please.”

“Yes,” said Major Ahara, “a traitor to your emperor. You meant that message to be delivered. You allowed yourself to be brought here with the orders on you. Answer me if that is not so. You cannot answer.”

“Please,” said Mr. Moto, “that will be enough.”

“Yes,” said Captain Hamby. “My word, it will. Windy little beggars, you Japanese,” and he seized Major Ahara's shoulders.

At the same instant the Major struck at Captain Hamby's arm and the Captain staggered backward with a choking cry of amazement. The room was filled with a confused clamor that sounded like the yelping from a kennel. A dark-gowned man lunged at the Major and missed him. An instant later the Japanese had tripped up the guard by the door and snatched it open. Then he sprang outside with Captain Hamby just behind him. The report of a pistol sounded in the compound, and then a second shot. Mr. Holtz pushed past the crowd at the door. The Prince called out a high, sharp order, but he had not risen from his chair.

At its call the noise in the room died down.

“Hamby,” shouted Mr. Holtz, and Captain Hamby's voice answered cheerily from the dark outside:—

“It's all right, Holtz, the beggar's through.” And then Captain Hamby sauntered back deliberately through the open door as though he had just stepped out to get a breath of air.

“Smile,” Captain Hamby was humming, “smile, smile.”

“My friend,” said Mr. Holtz, “was that necessary? I told you I wanted none of that in here.”

Captain Hamby's face wrinkled in his most exasperating smile.

“Just a peaceful merchant, aren't you, Holtz?” he said. “You're in this the same as everybody else. My word, the beggar was running like a rabbit. We couldn't let him get away.”

“But he would not have got away,” said Mr. Holtz, and the flesh about his eyes had gathered into dangerous little wrinkles. “Did I not tell you this was to be done out beyond if it was necessary? An officer, a Japanese officer—it is dangerous.”

“To hell with the Japanese officers,” Captain Hamby said. “You heard what Shirov told us, didn't you? This country will be Russian next week.”

“I am not sure,” said Mr. Holtz. “We cannot yet be sure.”

“My word,” said Captain Hamby, “you heard Shirov. We've done business with Shirov. We're sure already.”

Then in the pause that followed, Mr. Moto spoke, and the contrast of his voice coming so suddenly after Captain Hamby's unmusical speech made every word decisive.

“I am so sorry you did that,” Mr. Moto said. “He was a very good officer. We had differences of political opinion, but he was very nice. I am so very, very sorry.”

“Sorry, are you?” Captain Hamby said. “You'd better be sorry for yourself.”

Mr. Moto looked at the Prince and at the Russian agent and then at Captain Hamby. His gold fillings glittered in a polite, intelligent smile.

“You mean I shall be liquidated also?” Mr. Moto said.

“Clever little beggar, aren't you?” Captain Hamby said. “You let yourself in for it, didn't you?”

Mr. Moto folded his hands on his lap.

“Perhaps,” he said, “and perhaps it is time to make myself clear. You will not liquidate me yet I think. I know so much of Mr. Holtz and so much of you all. I have such a very high opinion of General Shirov. You are all so very, very clever. I know so very well what you are thinking—that, when we are no longer useful, this young American gentleman and I will be eliminated. Do you mind if I explain myself?”

“It don't matter,” said Captain Hamby. “We haven't got the time.”

But Mr. Holtz interrupted.

“One little minute,” he said. “I want to hear what he says.”

“And so do I,” said General Shirov. “I want to understand.”

“Thank you, General Shirov,” said Mr. Moto, “so very, very much. I know you may be puzzled to see me here. My poor compatriot, the Major, was so very very right. I wished that you would receive the cigarette case with the message it conveyed. I hoped so much that your brother would bring it to you, but there was so much opposition on the part of my own countrymen, so embarrassing to me. I am so afraid that your brother was alarmed when he saw me on the train. I hoped so much that he would bring it safely. I am so sorry for his accident. He was such a clever man.”

General Shirov looked at Mr. Moto distrustfully, as though there might be an infernal machine in Mr. Moto's pocket.

“So you wanted me to get that message,” he said. “That is kind of you, but the reason is not clear.”

Mr. Moto smiled a golden, confidential smile. “Excuse me,” he said, “I know so well it sounds irregular. I am so afraid that you might suspect me. If I had not been afraid, I should have been in touch with you myself. You are such a very brilliant man, General Shirov, and we have known each other so long and so unhappily. I was afraid if I came here freely that you would draw away and I wanted so very much to see you face to face. So much simpler for us both. I did not wish you to be alarmed, General Shirov. That is why I arranged for Captain Hamby to capture me. It seemed the only way that we might meet face to face—so very naturally.”