Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 25, No. 2, August 13, 1927

“You are known,” said the girl steadily. She had recovered her poise now. “You are known to have removed a certain person from a hospital. We, that is, I, concluded that he had passed it on to you.”

I fumbled in my pocket and withdrew the capsule.

“Is that what you are after?”

“Yes!” There was an eager light in her eyes. “Give it to me and let me go. Trust me. Believe me, when I tell you that this is none of your affair. Give me that capsule. Keep it and your life will be in danger!”

Danger! I considered carefully, watching the girl, partly in perplexity, partly in admiration and not without flashes of suspicion. Danger! The very word caught at my imagination. I was bored to death by garrulous and complaining old men, asthmatic and gabby women, and homely, squalling infants. Danger! I drew a quick breath. Give me danger and a girl in a green evening dress!

I dropped the capsule back into my pocket.

“I’ll keep it,” I said decisively. “At least I’ll keep it until I find out what this thing is all about.”

Eagerness turned to incredulity in the girl’s eyes.

“You fool!” she blazed at me. “You conceited idiot! Do you think this is a child’s game that you can say smugly, ‘I will keep it?’ You will keep it until it is taken from you. Then you will probably get a bullet for your meddling!”

I was on my feet now. Her open scorn had sent the blood to my head.

“Listen to me, young lady,” I snapped. “I can take care of myself. When you get back to your thieves’ hangout, tell the boss brigand that I have this document and I intend to keep it. Invite him to come and get it, if he has the courage. I may shoot the next thief I find in my house, even if she does happen to be wearing skirts!”

Pale and defiant, she stared at me.

“Don’t put on airs with me,” she said evenly. “I know you. Dr. Waring, for just what you are, a cocaine smuggling, drug-peddling disgrace to your profession. May I go now?”

“You may go when I get ready to let you go,” I retorted savagely. “Answer my questions. I am weary of this horseplay. Quit talking riddles to me and tell the truth if it is in you! Come now, who sent you to my house, and who told you that I am a drug peddler?”

“Do you really want to know?” she asked sweetly.

“Certainly!”

“Then try and find out.”

And before I could stop her, she whirled, dashed to a window, threw it open and stepped out into the rain. A swish of the green skirt and she was gone, leaving me open-mouthed before the fireplace. For a second I stood there, then I hurried to the door, flung it open and gazed out into the darkness, but I could see nothing, and there was no sound save the splatter of the rain.

I laughed grimly and returned to the library, I had ruined my own plot. The heroine had flown, leaving me with the black capsule, and by all the rules of pirate conduct it was for me to search her out, halve her enemies neatly with a broadsword and then collect the treasure or whatever it might be.

I stirred up the fire in the grate and sat down to examine the mysterious capsule. It had been sealed with wax at one time but it was open now and I easily extracted a small piece of greasy paper which I unfolded. It appeared to be a half of a letter. I held it up to the light and read:

ake:

I delivered the goods to Princess Flavia. Meet him at bring the stuff to me as I have pose of them. Be careful as one of my me we are watched.

Joshua Ba

Chapter IV Their First Move

I could make nothing of the thing, and after turning the matter over in my head without result I replaced the document in its shell. Where could I hide it? I finally turned out the lights, fearing that I might be watched from without, and dropped the capsule into an empty ink well upon my desk. Then I went off to bed, determined to get a good night’s rest that I might be fresh on the morrow to begin my quest for the girl in the green dress.

But sleep did not come to me easily, and for the first time in my dull, well-ordered life I spent a restless night. Every time I tried to compose my mind there arose before me the picture of the girl behind the Japanese screen, and she flashed upon my memory in a dozen moods, now frightened, then defiant; laughing with the pomegranate-red lips; eager and trembling and again dark-eyed and threatening.

I got up in the black middle of the night and groped for a glass of water. “I know you for just what you are.” Her words rang in my ears. What had she meant? What was I? Nothing. That is, nothing romantic. Just a stodgy doctor, old beyond his years and knowing little of the life that thundered past his very doorstep.

“I hope,” I muttered to myself, “that she really believes I am a drug peddler.”