The Case of the Backward Mule

Twenty-One

Cynthia Renton rushed toward Terry Clane impulsively, “Oh, Owl,” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you’re back. Tell me, what happened?”

“Lots of things,” Clane said. “Ricardo Taonon disappeared and was found. His wife disappeared and was found. I have been in jail. I have seen Edward Harold and...”

“How is he, Owl? Tell me, how is he?”

“Naturally,” Clane said, “he’s pretty blue and discouraged. He’s resentful. He didn’t feel particularly cordial toward me. If it hadn’t been for Chu Kee here, I’d still have been...”

Clane broke off abruptly as he realized Chu Kee was not there. The Chinese and his daughter had quietly slipped away.

“They came in with you,” Cynthia said, looking around. “Where did they go?”

Clane said, “Probably thought we wanted to be alone.”

“Don’t we?”

“Not now, Cynthia. I have some work to do. I’m going to have to take some chances.”

“All right, Owl. I’m going to take chances with you.”

“You are going to stay right here.”

She laughed. “That shows all you know about it. I’m going with you. I’ve got you into a mess and I’m going to be with you from now on, helping you if I can. If I can’t help, I’ll at least walk into the arms of the police and take the responsibility for what’s been done. I’ve been sitting here hating myself for the way I’ve let you run risks on my account. You’ve always been a refuge for me when times got tough, and it seemed natural to run to you for help. Only in the last few hours did I realize how unfair it was... Owl, please let me go with you.”

Clane saw the pleading desperation on her face. “All right,” he said at length, and then added, “Perhaps Harold will feel better about it if you clear the mystery up instead of me.”

“Don’t be silly, Owl. Ed Harold thinks you’re one of the grandest men on earth. I’ve told him so much about you that I...”

“Have made him hate me,” Clane said.

She made a little grimace. “He’ll get over that. When do we go?”

“Now.”

“Where do we go?”

“We’re going down to the warehouse of the Eastern Art Import and Trading Company,” Clane said. “We’re going to hope that police don’t have it under guard and that we can find some way of getting in. It will be a felonious entry at best, and may be something a lot more serious.”

“And what are we going to do when we get in there?”

“If we don’t get caught,” Clane said, “we’re going to try and determine why George Gloster’s dust-covered fingerprints were left on a desk blotter.”

“Why, Owl? What does that have to do with it?”

Clane said, “It may be the solution of the whole business.”

“Owl, do you know how to get out of here? Coming in we went through tunnels and down staircases and...”

“I think so,” Clane said and, raising his voice, called out, “Embroidered Halo!”

She appeared almost instantly, moving through embroidered silk curtains which concealed a doorway. She had changed from her American clothes into Chinese garb, and with the change she seemed to have renounced everything about her which was of the Occident. She was completely Chinese as she looked up at Clane with an inscrutable countenance; and, recognizing her mood, Clane instinctively addressed her in Chinese. “Embroidered Halo, I have to leave upon a mission of some danger. The Painter Woman wishes to go with me. She is not accustomed to inaction. It is not wise that she go with me; but I am going to try to clear up the murder which was committed in the warehouse. If the man she loves is to be cleared of murder, it would be better that Cynthia herself did it.”

“The man she loves?” Sou Ha asked in Chinese, her face expressionless.

“Yes.”

“The man she loves is standing beside her.”

Clane flushed. “Don’t be silly, Sou Ha. She is going to marry Edward Harold.”

“And you wish to leave here undetected?”

Clane nodded.

“It will be arranged,” Sou Ha said. “Will you come with me, please?”

She led them through a corridor, paused before a door of carved and inlaid wood. Clane knew that the other side of this door was of steel with a veneer of varnished pine.

Sou Ha stopped, her hand on the catch which controlled the door, her face, without expression, was raised to Terry Clane. “Will you always remember,” she asked in Chinese, “that in the abode of my father there is a refuge for you and your friends? That such things as we can do for you are yours to command? Anything. Everything.”

“You are a dear girl,” Clane said. “I am indebted to you both more than I can ever repay.”

Her face flushed. “Never speak of repayment to Chinese,” she flared and pressed a catch which caused the door to swing open. A Chinese stood on guard in the dingy, grimy corridor which was disclosed beyond the door.

“Will you see that these people are escorted to the street and that they are undetected?” Sou Ha asked in Chinese.

He bowed acquiescence.

Clane turned with outstretched hand, “Good-by, Embroidered Halo, and...”

He paused as he realized he was addressing a blank wall. Some pressure of her foot had caused a partition to slide into place, leaving only the open door and what seemed to be a solid wall.

“Don’t you see, Owl,” Cynthia said softly, “that is why she changed to Chinese clothes, to tell you that there is between you the gulf of racial difference. Let’s get out of here, Owl, before I start bawling.”