Eden’s eyes were on Thorn. For the first time since he met that gentleman he thought he detected the ghost of a smile on the secretary’s pale face.
“Well, Tony was old,” continued Madden. “A very old boy. And as Ah Kim says, death is inevitable—” He stopped, and looked keenly at the expressionless face of the Chinese. “I’ve been expecting this,” he added. “Tony hasn’t seemed very well of late. Here, Ah Kim”—he handed over all that was mortal of Tony—“you take and bury him somewhere.”
“I take sum,” said Ah Kim, and did so.
In the big living-room the clock struck twice, loud and clear. Ah Kim, in the person of Charlie Chan, was moving slowly away, the bird in his arms. He was muttering glibly in Chinese. Suddenly he looked back over his shoulder.
“Hoo malimali,” he said clearly.
Bob Eden remembered his Hawaiian.
