She nodded.

  “One more thing,” Karr said abruptly. “You lived with an aunt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perhaps there are more letters from your father in your aunt’s things.”

  “I never thought of that.”

  “Know where they are?”

  “No.”

  “Try and find them. He might have written to her. See me again. No, don’t see me again. Keep in touch with Mr. Mason. He’s my lawyer. Don’t let Rodney Wenston’s hostility impress you much. He has nothing whatever to say about it. I told him to be skeptical in dealing with claimants. If you’re my partner’s daughter, I want to be friendly with you. If you’re an impostor, I want to send you to jail. I don’t want to waste too much time finding out which it’s going to be.”

  Mason heard a quick intake of breath as though Gow Loong had been about to say something. Then the number one boy changed his mind. By the time Mason had raised his eyes, Gow Loong was standing absolutely motionless. Apparently he hadn’t even been listening to the conversation.

  “Something you wanted to say, Gow Loong?” Karr asked.

  “Maskee,” the Chinese number one boy said.

  The girl looked questioningly at Karr. “Is that Chinese?” she asked innocently enough.

  Karr’s frosty eyes twinkled into a half smile. “Near enough to Chinese,” he said. “The pigeon English of the treaty port. The greatest word of all, ‘maskee.’ It means never mind, no matter. And now run along, my dear. I think I’ll have some very important news for you soon, but let Mr. Mason check up on you and . . .”

  The harsh sound of the door buzzer interrupted him. He looked quickly at Gow Loong. “See who it is,” he said. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

  But as it turned out, Gow Loong had nothing to say on that score. They heard him descend the stairs, heard the door open, and then the crisp tones of an authoritative voice, and the feet of the two men on the stairs.

  Lieutenant Tragg preceded the Chinese houseboy up the stairs. “Good afternoon, everyone,” he said. “Good afternoon. Ah, Mason again. And a young woman. Hope I’m not intruding. Your houseboy said you were busy, Karr, but just as I put my duties ahead of my own personal convenience, I have to adopt that attitude elsewhere. I trust you’ll understand.” Tragg ceased speaking and looked inquiringly at Doris Wickford.

  “Miss Wickford,” Mason introduced. “Lieutenant Tragg of the Homicide Squad.”

  “Homicide!” Miss Wickford said with a little startled exclamation.

  “That’s right,” Tragg explained. “You probably aren’t interested in murder cases, Miss Wickford, but if you’d been reading the papers, you’d know that a man and his housekeeper were . . .”

  “But are you working on that?” she asked.

  Tragg eyed her narrowly. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice suddenly noncommittal. “They lived in the flat below here.”

  “Lived below here?” she asked, her eyes widening, and seeming suddenly to take on a darker hue.

  “In the flat right below here,” Tragg repeated. “Didn’t you know it?”

  There was no flicker in her glance, no waver in her eyes. “No,” she said.

  “Sorry,” Tragg said, “but I’ve got to ask a few questions. Let’s go back to the night of the murder, gentle-men. Now, Gow Loong where were you?”

  “Down China city. I visit my cousin.”

  “How many cousins?” Tragg asked.

  There was just the bare suggestion of a flicker of triumph in Gow Loong’s eyes. “Twenty-one.”

  It was Miss Wickford who broke the silence with a litde laugh. “Twenty-one cousins!” she exclaimed.

  Karr said to Lieutenant Tragg, “Chinese cousins are different from ours. In China they properly have only one hundred names. Everyone who has the same surname is supposed to be related. It’s a vague relationship. There’s nothing to compare with it in this country. That’s why a Chinaboy will say of another Chinese, ‘He allee same my cousin.’ ”

  “I see,” Tragg said. “Most interesting. And your name is Loong?”

  “That’s not really his family name,” Karr interposed again. “Gow Loong he calls himself. Literally translated, it means ‘nine dragons’—Cantonese. So don’t try looking it up in the official Mandarin dictionaries. Cantonese is a different language. Sort of a Chinese nickname. Means he has the strength, wisdom, daring, and courage of nine dragons. Each one of them furnishes some attribute: Loyalty, courage, perspicacity, endurance, shrewdness in money matters, ability to study—let’s see. How many’s that? Seven. I’ve forgotten the other two. Virtue and filial respect, probably. No matter. It illustrates the point. Anyway, he’s got twenty-one witnesses. He wasn’t here. I know he wasn’t here. If you want to check up on him, that’s easy. Who else do you want?”

  Tragg turned to Blaine.

  Blaine said, “I believe I’ve explained that at the same time the murder was committed I was flying down from San Francisco with Mr. Wenston here. We left San Francisco at eleven o’clock. I had some friends come down to the plane to see me off.”

  “Good thing you did too,” Wenston interposed. “Otherwise I couldn’t have prethented any alibi myself.”

  Tragg suddenly whirled to Karr. “You,” he said.

  Karr met his eyes with cold defiance. “I was here—alone.”

  “That’s rather unusual, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “In your wheelchair?”

  “No. In bed. I believe I’ve gone over all that with you before, Lieutenant.”

  “You haven’t,” Tragg said meaningly. “Mason has.”

  “What do you mean?” Karr asked.

  Karr kept staring at the detective with the cold concentration of one who is completely the master of his own soul, and resents uninvited familiarities. “Do you have any fault to find with what Mr. Mason answered?” he asked.

  “I may have,” Tragg said.

  “Under those circumstances,” Karr announced with cold dignity, “I am afraid it will be necessary for me to ask Mr. Mason to speak for me again. I am not feeling well, Lieutenant, and this interview has wearied me.”

  Tragg said affably, “Let’s not get off to a bad start, Mr. Karr. I’m trying to save you future trouble.”

  “Thank you for your consideration. You don’t need to try to save me anything. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”

  “Despite the fact that you are unable to walk?” Tragg asked.

  “Despite the fact that I am unable to walk.”

  “I don’t want to have any misunderstanding about that,” Tragg observed.

  Karr said, “You don’t need to have any. I can’t walk.”

  “You were here alone in this flat,” Tragg said. “So far as is known, you, the housekeeper, and Hocksley were the only three persons under this roof.”

  “Hocksley!” Miss Wickford exclaimed.

  Tragg turned to look at her. “Hocksley,” he said.

  “Why . . . !”

  “The name mean anything to you?” Tragg asked.

  She smiled and shook her head somewhat dubiously.

  Tragg kept his eyes boring into hers. “But,” he asked affably in the manner of one making small talk, “you’ve known a Hocksley somewhere, I take it, Miss Wickford?”

  She said, “No.”

  “The name has some association for you? Come now, let’s not beat around the bush.”

  She said, “My father mentioned a Hocksley in one of his letters.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Oh, perhaps twenty years.”

  Karr laughed mirthlessly. “Hardly the same Hocksley,” he said.

  Tragg didn’t shift his eyes. “You were a child at the time?”

  “Yes.”

  “How old?”

  “Seven.”

  “Where was your father?”

  “China.”

  “What did he say about Hocksley?”

  She shifted her eyes to Karr as though looking for some signal. Tragg said insistently, “This is just between you and me, Miss Wickford. What did your father say about Hocksley?”

  “My father was in a partnership in China. I believe Hocksley was one of the partners.”

  Tragg thought that over for a few seconds, then asked abruptly, “When did you meet Mr. Mason?”

  “About an hour and a half ago.”

  “Karr?”

  “About forty minutes.”

  “Known anyone here longer than that?”

  “I met Mr. Wenston before I met Mr. Mason.”

  “How much before?”

  “A few minutes before.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Wenston interposed hastily, “She’s calling on a matter of business. It’s highly confidential. I don’t want anything thaid about it.”

  Tragg pursed his lips. “Well, well, well,” he said. “Now let’s see. Wasn’t there an ad in this morning’s paper, an ad by someone who wanted to find the daughter of his dead partner?”

  There was no sound in the room, save the rasping breathing of Elston A. Karr. As by common consent they turned to look at him.

  “Your father’s name was Wickford?” Tragg asked the girl, whirling abruptly back toward her.

  “In China he went under the name of Dow Tucker.”

  “Wrote you about the partnership?”

  “Yes.”

  “When? Exactly what date?”

  “In the latter part of 1920.”

  “What happened after that?”

  Karr said, “I can tell you. He. . .”

  “Shut up, Karr,” Tragg said without taking his eyes from the girl’s face.

  “I didn’t hear anything more from my father after a letter written in the first part of 1921. I heard later on that he had died.”

  “How did he die?”

  “I understood he was murdered.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No.”

  “His body was never shipped home?”

  “No.”

  “Ever get any property from his estate?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Any other relatives living?”

  “No.”

  “When did your mother die?”

  “Around eighteen months before Dad went to China.” “With whom did you live after that? After your father left?”

  “An aunt.”

  “Mother’s sister or father’s?”

  “Mother’s.”

  “Where’s she?”

  “Dead.”

  “How long?”

  “Three years.”

  “And your father wrote about having a partnership arrangement with a man named Hocksley?”

  “Yes.”

  “Didn’t mention his first name?”

  “I. . .”

  “You didn’t save that letter?”

  “No.”

  “Mention the name of the other partner?”

  She hesitated a moment, then said, “Well. . . yes.”

  “A man named Karr?”

  “Yes.”

  “Remember the first name?”

  After she had been silent for several seconds, Tragg said abruptly, “I asked you if you knew his first name?”

  “I was trying to remember.”

  “Well, think fast.”

  She turned to Karr. “Your first name is Elston, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  She said, “I have a haunting memory in the back of my mind that Karr’s first name was Elston. I can’t remember. Perhaps it’s just the association of ideas, having met Mr. Elston Karr this afternoon. I . . . I may have confused his first name.”

  “With what?”

  “With the name of my father’s partner.”

  “What other Karrs do you know?”

  “None who spell their names this way.”

  Tragg looked up at Karr. “Well?” he asked.

  Karr said, “In the fall of 1920 and the spring of 1921 I was in partnership with three men in Shanghai. One of them was named Dow Tucker. I think he’s this girl’s father. The other one was a man named Hocksley.”

  “Indeed!” Lieutenant Tragg said, his voice showing only a courteous interest. “And what became of Hocksley?”

  Karr said, choosing his words carefully, “Hocksley disappeared. He disappeared under suspicious circumstances. He carried away with him a very large sum of money in partnership funds. Fortunately, not all of the partnership funds, but a large amount.”

  “So,” Tragg said, “naturally, you felt quite bitter toward Hocksley.”

  A gleam showed in Karr’s eyes despite his attempt to control his expression. He said, “The man was beneath contempt.”

  “And he took with him a large amount of partnership funds?”

  “Yes.”

  “In other words, some of your money?”

  “Yes.”

  “Naturally, you wanted that back.”

  “Yes.”

  “And naturally you made some attempt to trace him.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And, in short, Karr, your efforts finally were successful. You located Hocksley in this flat below you. You took the flat above him and . . .”

  “I did nothing of the sort,” Karr interrupted. “I took this flat because I desired privacy. I believe the records will show that some ten days or two weeks after I moved in, the lower flat was rented to a man by the name of Hocksley. I can assure you that I didn’t even know his name until this matter came up. I am confined to my house. I don’t get out. I . . .”

  “Your Chinaboy gets out?”

  “He does the shopping.”

  Tragg pursed his lips, turned toward Gow Loong, then swung back toward Karr. “Well, let’s finish this phase of the matter first. What was the first name of your partner in China?”

  Karr hesitated.

  “Come on,” Tragg said. “Let’s have it. Stalling around isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

  Karr said, “We called him Red. I don’t think I ever did know his first name. . . . If I did know it, I’ve forgotten it.”

  Miss Wickford said, “Perhaps I can help you there a little, Lieutenant. His name was Robindale E. Hocksley. I remember my father writing about him. I was just a child at the time, but names have always stuck in my memory. I was going to tell you this before, but you interrupted me with another question.”

  Tragg said, without looking around, “You’re not helping me a damn bit, Miss Wickford. I know what his name was. I knew all about that partnership before I came up here. I wasn’t asking questions because I wanted information, but to find out who’s trying to co-operate and who’s trying to cover up. Karr, why didn’t you tell me your partner had the same name as that of the man who was murdered?”

  “I didn’t know it until after the murder. Then it just didn’t occur to me it was other than a similarity of surnames. I never knew Red Hocksley’s first name was Robindale.”

  “How about you?” Tragg asked Gow Loong.

  “What’samalla me?” Gow Loong demanded with the shrill rapidity of an excited Chinese.

  “How long you been with Mr. Karr?”

  “Maybe-so long time.”

  “In China?”

  “Sure, in China.”

  “You remember the three men in the partnership Mr. Karr’s spoken about?”

  “Red Hocksley I heap savvy,” Gow Loong said. “Him velly bad man. Heap no good. Alla time no can tlust.”

  Tragg said, “You’ve seen this man who lived downstairs?”

  Gow Loong shook his head. “No see.”

  “You read his name on the door?”

  “No read.”

  Tragg turned to Blaine. “How about you?”

  Blaine said affably, “I have only been with Mr. Karr for a year.”

  “What’s your job?”

  “Well, I act as sort of nurse. You see, Mr. Karr is . . .”

  “Ever do any nursing before?”

  “Well. . .”

  “Got a permit to carry that gun you’re lugging around?” Tragg interrupted.

  Blaine’s hand moved automatically to his pocket. “Sure, I got a permit. I . . .” He stopped as he caught the triumphant gleam in Tragg’s eye.

  Tragg laughed. “What did you do before you became Karr’s bodyguard?”

  “I had a detective agency in Denver Colorado,” Blaine blurted, red-faced. “I wasn’t making very much money at it, and when I had this opportunity to draw steady wages and good wages, I jumped at it.”

  Tragg said, “That’s better. If you want to keep that permit to carry that gun and if ever you want to go back into the detective business, you’ll be wise to co-operate a little. Now what do you know about Hocksley?”

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “Ever see the man?”

  Blaine said, “Look here, Lieutenant, I’m going to be frank with you. I was hired to act as Karr’s bodyguard. I gathered that, because of some old feud in China, his life might be in danger. I’ve never heard him mention the name of Hocksley, and today is the first time I ever knew about that Shanghai partnership. Karr never told me what specific danger he feared. I had an idea he was still doing a little gun-running—getting stuff past the Japs. I won’t go into details, but I think Karr’s the brains of the works. I think it would raise the devil, not only with Karr, but with an underground grapevine by which munitions are being smuggled in, if Karr got any publicity. I don’t know how the government would feel about it, but I presume that, at least unofficially, they’d have some interest in the matter. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been keeping my mouth shut. I can’t tell you a lot about methods, but, as I get the picture, there’s quite a fleet of Chinese fishing junks that put out from all the coast villages. Those people have to five, and in order to live, they have to fish. The Japanese realize that. Occasionally, they search these junks. Some of them are considered above suspicion. Some aren’t. They can’t search them all. Therefore, you can see it’s pretty important for Karr to keep under cover, and—well, that’s been my job. I’ve been keeping him sewed up and out of circulation.”