Mr. Moto Is So Sorry (26 page)

“So that's your idea, is it?” Captain Hamby said. “Going to be an artist are you, Gates? Don't give it a single thought, gentlemen. You let me have Mr. Gates outside for fifteen minutes, and he'll be begging to draw that picture.”

“I've thought of that,” said Calvin Gates. “There's only one trouble; you'd never be sure whether the picture was right.”

General Shirov stroked his pointed chin thoughtfully.

“You are asking a good deal, my dear sir,” he said. “How may we be sure that it is right at any rate?”

Calvin Gates shrugged his shoulders. There was no way for them actually to be sure. Ironically enough they had arrived at a question of integrity and character.

“You'll have to take my word,” he said, “just as I have to take your word. It may be a risky business, but it's the only way. I have something that you want and you'll have to take my word. You'll have to believe me when I say that I have no interest in deceiving you. Besides, you will be able to see if I am deceiving you soon enough by what I draw. I've only been in this country two weeks. You can do it this way, or try any other with me, but believe me no other way will work.”

“You leave it to me,” Captain Hamby began; but General Shirov stopped him.

“That will do, sir,” he said. “There must be no further mistakes, there is no time for them. This must be arranged without force. Have you a passport, Mr. Gates? If I may see the visas—”

“I have,” said Calvin Gates. “I never thought of that.”

General Shirov squared his shoulders and there was a different light in his unblinking blue eyes when he turned toward Calvin Gates.

“Your proposition seems the easiest solution, sir,” he said. “When you were telling me your history a little while ago I suspected that you had other interests. Now I think that I was wrong. The passport may be a forgery, but I think not. I shall accept your proposition. I am flattered that you are willing to take my word and I am pleased to give it. I am a different type of man from certain others in this room.”

“I thought you were,” said Calvin Gates. “Will you agree that none of these other people interfere with us?”

“That will be arranged quite easily I think,” General Shirov replied. “I am sorry we are so pressed now, Mr. Gates. I shall hope to make your further acquaintance later. If you will step to the table I have a pencil and paper, and may I ask the lady to come with us also, since she has seen that cigarette case too?”

Mr. Moto placed his hand before his lips and drew in his breath.

“You are so very sensible, Mr. Gates,” he said. “It is so wise of you to see that Comrade Shirov and I are the only ones here who count. Comrade Shirov is such a very nice man. You may rely upon him absolutely and you may rely upon me. You may be quite safe in assuming that none of these other gentlemen will interfere. They would not dare in any case.” His bright, quick glance moved to General Shirov and he sighed.

“Yes, he is so very nice, because he is a gentleman. We give our word and we keep our word. I am so very sorry that he and I should be in collision. So very sorry that we have not time to chat together. We would have so very many interesting things to talk about.”

General Shirov's lips curled into a thin smile.

“Yes,” he said, “we would have a good deal to talk about.”

“There's only one more detail,” said Calvin Gates.

Mr. Moto looked startled. “What is that?” he asked.

“Dr. Gilbreth's party, they must be brought out safely.”

“Oh,” said Mr. Moto, and he smiled at the Prince. “So they are having trouble—that is so like His Excellency. They shall be brought out safely.”

The Prince spoke suddenly. “Are you saying that I shall receive no recompense?” he asked slowly, and Mr. Moto beamed back at him.

“I am so afraid,” he said. “You should have sold while there was an offer. We must arrange terms later now.”

The Prince raised his hand from his knee and pointed at Captain Hamby.

“It was that man who advised me,” he said.

“So sorry for Captain Hamby,” said Mr. Moto gently. “So sorry that he carried affairs so far. I am so afraid that he should not have brought me here.”

“If you step this way please, Mr. Gates,” said General Shirov, “this way please, madame.”

“Do not hesitate, Mr. Gates,” Mr. Moto said cordially. “Either Comrade Shirov or I will be in complete control. The Prince and Mr. Holtz and Mr. Hamby will do what one of us tells them. Ha ha, it is so very funny. I am so sorry that Comrade Shirov should be an enemy of my country, and such a dangerous man.”

“So sorry for you, Mr. Moto,” General Shirov replied. “Here are the pencil and paper, Mr. Gates.”

Calvin sat by the table with the pencil in his hand, and Miss Dillaway stood beside him, and General Shirov and Mr. Moto. He could feel the contagion of their interest as he glanced at the paper. He could hear Captain Hamby and Mr. Holtz arguing loudly at the other end of the room.

“You thought you was so smart, what?” Mr. Holtz was saying. “You thought you was so smart to catch that Japanese.”

“Well,” the Russian said, “we are waiting, Mr. Gates.”

Then Miss Dillaway leaned forward and spoke suddenly.

“Give me that paper, Gates,” she said. “You don't know how to draw, I do. There were birds in the grass. Tell me how to draw them.” She took the pencil in her small brown hand and glanced at him sideways. “He can't do everything, you know,” she added.

CHAPTER XXII

“There were five tufts of grass,” said Calvin Gates. “The grass was very high, particularly the large tuft in the center.” He closed his eyes in order to remember better. “There was one detail about the grass. All the blades were bending to the left as though the wind blew them.”

“Like this?” Miss Dillaway asked.

“Five tufts and the grass bending to the left,” General Shirov repeated. “That is how it should be. And now the birds? Were they big or little, Mr. Gates?”

“Small birds,” said Calvin Gates. “They seemed to have no tails and their beaks were long like woodcock. Three were flying in a little group over by the right. One was on the ground by the left, two were perched in a grass tuft in the center.”

“Like this?” said Miss Dillaway.

Calvin Gates studied the drawing carefully and no one spoke.

“No,” said Calvin. “The three birds flying were facing toward the right. One was a little ahead of the other two.”

General Shirov leaned forward and picked up the paper and examined it for a moment with his lips pressed tight together.

“Mr. Holtz,” he said, “is the wireless ready?”

“Yes, all ready,” said Mr. Holtz.

“One moment,” said Mr. Moto, “one moment please. Everything is correct? I am so very glad. I am so pleased to rely on Mr. Holtz. We must know at once whether action will be taken. How will you find out?”

Mr. Holtz pursed his small lips.

“I shall ask for instructions,” he said. “I shall find out. Never fear. General Shirov understands me.”

Mr. Moto rubbed his hands together.

“I am so very sure you will,” Mr. Moto said. “It is such a pleasure to rely on Mr. Holtz, who is giving us shelter in his house. Mr. Holtz is a man of property, with so many business interests. Mr. Holtz must be on the strong side.”

“That is right,” said Mr. Holtz. “I shall find for you what they will do up there.”

“So very nice,” Mr. Moto said. “We shall know when you get your answer. So sorry, General Shirov, that one of us must go. You understand me, I am so very sure. If your army does not march, I am so afraid that no one here will have much use for you. The Prince understands so well. He will become either Russian or Japanese. He will seize either you or me. Does His Highness understand?”

“I understand,” the Prince said slowly. “In the meantime I am hospitable to both you gentlemen.”

General Shirov made a quick impatient gesture.

“We have had enough talk,” he said. “Everyone understands. They are simply waiting for the message.”

He turned and walked away with Mr. Holtz toward the communicating door at the far end of the room.

“Smile,” Captain Hamby was humming. “Smile, smile, smile.” But he was not smiling.

“General Shirov is so sure,” said Mr. Moto gently. “It may be well to have someone there to watch. He will be so disappointed if the answer is not what he hopes. So sorry—but he might forget himself.”

The Prince nodded his head at Captain Hamby without answering. Captain Hamby followed to the door of the room where the wireless instrument stood.

“My word,” said Captain Hamby, “you think of everything, don't you? He won't get away. I'll see to that.”

Calvin Gates stood up and peered down the length of the room. The door was half open and he could see Mr. Holtz's broad back as he bent over the instrument at the table.

“Such an interesting instrument the wireless,” Mr. Moto said. “Will you hand me that pencil on the table and another piece of paper, Mr. Gates? Thank you so very much. Ah, they are calling for the station.”

The sharp dot and dash of a spark came across the room, petulantly through the silence.

“Yes,” said Mr. Moto, “that is the proper call.”

Miss Dillaway put her hand on Calvin's arm.

“What are they doing?” she whispered. “What's happening, Gates?”

“We're out of it,” he answered, “so what do you care, Dillaway?”

“Don't be so mysterious,” Miss Dillaway said. “I can be interested, can't I? It's a lot better than being locked in a shed with Dr. Gilbreth.”

“You can be interested if you like,” said Calvin Gates. “There's either going to be a war with Russia or there isn't going to be a war, and that old gentleman in blue is a prince who is waiting to see whether he will ally himself to Russia or Japan, and Mr. Moto has precipitated an incident. Then there's a man in the other room named Holtz who owns this place and sends camels over the desert. He is in the other room now, sending a wireless message, and a very high class Russian spy is in there with him. Mr. Moto and the Russian spy don't get on very well. Depending on the answer to the message, your friend, Captain Hamby, and the Prince will take either Mr. Moto or the spy into custody, and that will be the end of one or the other—that's the picture roughly, and you can be interested if you like, but personally I don't care a hang as long as we're out of it.”

“You don't?” said Miss Dillaway. “What's gotten into you, Gates? I thought that this was just the sort of thing you liked.”

“Maybe I did,” said Calvin Gates, “but I'm tired of it now.”

“I suppose you're tired of me too,” Miss Dillaway said.

“No,” said Calvin Gates, “frankly I'm not. You're more interesting, Dillaway.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” she answered, “because you won't see anything like this again if I have anything to do with it.”

“Do you want to have anything to do with it?” Calvin asked her.

“I don't know that I should mind,” she said, “if I understand you rightly. You're interesting sometimes, Gates, but you're not going to get me into a party like this again.”

“Look here,” said Calvin Gates. “You started this. You were given that cigarette case, I wasn't.”

She looked up at him and smiled.

“You need a guardian, Gates,” she said. “You can't think straight when you argue, but never mind, I like it. You might be worse.”

“So might you,” said Calvin Gates.

“I suppose you're disorderly around the house,” she said.

“Yes,” he said, “I am.”

“You would be,” said Miss Dillaway. “I suppose—”

Mr. Moto's voice brought him back to the present.

“Will you please not talk?” Mr. Moto said. “Although it is very interesting that Mr. Gates is so disorderly. They are sending the message and I am trying to listen please.”

CHAPTER XXIII

The sharp snap of the wireless was traveling through the room, and Calvin stood there listening with his hand over the girl's beside him. There were a great many things that he wished to tell her that must wait for some other time. He felt a sense of companionship which he had never experienced with anyone else. He was thinking that they would get on well together, and that they knew more of each other than most people. They had gone a long way together. He remembered when he had seen her first on that small boat. They had gone a long way since that night, and now they were standing in a room heavy with the reek of the Prince's unwashed Mongols. It would be something to remember.

Mr. Moto was writing on the paper on his knee.

“That is very nice,” he said. “Your picture was correct I think, although it conveyed more than I thought it would. It was a code message. Shirov has advised that everything is clear.”

“Do you know their code?” Calvin asked him.

“A little,” said Mr. Moto, “enough to read I think. It is sent in a peculiar manner. We have tried to send false messages, but it has been impossible.”

Mr. Holtz came slowly into the room mopping his face on a handkerchief.

“We have sent it,” he said. “There should be an answer very quickly. We have asked for it. How are you feeling, Mr. Moto?”

Mr. Moto sighed.

“Happy,” said Mr. Moto, “very, very happy, Mr. Holtz. I feel that I have done my duty. We shall know the attitude of Russia in such a little while, and that is something, Mr. Holtz. Thank you. I am so obliged for your kind co-operation.”

“You are a very cool man, my friend,” said Mr. Holtz.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Moto, “so very much. It is sometimes so necessary to be cool. There are some things so necessary to die for. It has been so difficult to arrange this evening.”