"What do you think of it?" he asked, when his tale was told. The Superintendent was a tall thin man with a cold eye and a distrustful manner. He believed only half he saw, and absolutely nothing he heard. Consequently when Rodgers ended, and his opinion was asked, he sniffed disdainfully, and put on his most official expression. "It's a fairy tale," said Young in his dry voice, which was like the creaking of a rusty wheel.
"Well now, the woman was murdered."
"But not for this fan, Mr. Rodgers."
"Then what motive do you think--?"
"I don't undertake to say, sir. Let us gather all the evidence we can and submit it to an intelligent jury at the inquest. It takes place to-day at the public house near the corner of the Cliff Road and not far from Ivy Lodge. When the jury has inspected the body, it will sit with the Coroner at the Bull's Head."
"A Chinaman calling himself Tung-yu was at the ball you know," said Rodgers, unwilling to abandon the theory in spite of his doubts.
"Where is he now?"
"I can't say. Mr. Christopher Walker brought him down, and I went to see that young gentleman before he departed for business this morning. He told me that Tung-yu was a clerk in the same firm of tea merchants as he was employed with, and had not been at the office since he left to come to the ball. Mr. Walker last saw Tung-yu at the door of the hotel, looking out across the pier."
"Well," said Young drily.
"That yacht was there," went on Rodgers, "and showed a green light so it's just possible that Mr. Burgh may be right and that the Chinaman did steam away in her."