The Chinese Puzzle Read online

  “I am from Mannering,” Mannering declared, knowing that it would be folly to betray his disguise to anyone whom he did not know. “Take this to Li Chen.” He took the invitation from Li Chen from his pocket, and the other took it without a word, and walked away; he seemed to be swallowed up in the gloom.

  The odour of curry and other spices wafted along the alley; and the stink of sewage, too. Slowly Mannering became aware of the drone of distant traffic, in that other world so nearly the real West. His ears and eyes were strained. It was easy to imagine that every tiny window and narrow doorway, every roof and every corner, had watching eyes.

  There was a stir of sound, and the Chinaman reappeared.

  “Please come,” he said; it sounded like “Plees clum”. He turned his back on Mannering, who hesitated only for a second, and then followed. Such moments as these were the moments of greatest danger. If he had walked into a trap, at least he would soon know. He saw his guide disappear into one of the doorways; once he himself was inside, a trap could close on him. He went in. There was a rustle of movement ahead, and a pale light coming through a brass lantern with many holes; a Tibetan lamp. Beyond this was a plain wall, with pieces of plaster broken away, and wide cracks in it, like huge spiders squashed in while the cement was still wet.

  The Chinaman opened a door, and stood aside, now he was very polite. Mannering held his breath as he stepped through the doorway. Beyond, over an alcove, a different kind of lantern hung, spreading a different kind of yellow light: a Chinese lantern. Mannering went beneath this into a room which was different from any he had seen for a long time. This was Chinese; square stools and silken cushions, rich carpets and lacquered tables showed that it was the home of a wealthy man.

  Raymond Li Chen stood in front of a glass showcase.

  Mannering had no doubt at all of the man’s identity; he had seen Li Chen too often to be in doubt; the last time only a year ago. He had a fine, broad forehead, and a gentle expression, quite puzzled now. He was tall for a Chinese, five feet eight or so. He wore a gown which reached to an inch or two above the tiled floor.

  “It is not possible that you are John Mannering,” he said.

  “It’s not only possible, it’s an indisputable fact,” Mannering retorted in his natural voice. “How are you, Li Chen?”

  After the first moment, the Chinaman’s face lit up, the smile touching his eyes as he moved forward, right hand outstretched. As they shook hands, he asked: “But why are you in such a disguise?”

  “For the same reason you sent a beggar woman instead of coming to see me yourself.”

  “That is reasonable, I suppose.” Li Chen took Mannering’s arm and led him into a smaller room, just as unmistakably Chinese, but with upright chairs and a waist-high table. He clapped his hands lightly, and motioned Mannering to sit down. They waited. Mannering knew better than to interrupt. Soon, a little woman came in, also wearing a Chinese gown. She smiled up, as if shyly, across the tray she carried. Tiny handle-less cups were on the tray as well as a teapot. Ceremoniously, she set the tray before Li Chen, and left the room as silently as she had come.

  The men sipped. Mannering waited for the other to speak.

  “There are some who wish to stop you from going to Hong Kong,” Li Chen said at last. “They believe they have succeeded.” After a pause, he asked: “Have they?”

  “Who are they?” countered Mannering mildly. “Do you know?”

  “I am not certain,” answered Li Chen, quietly, “on the one hand it could be the Peking government; on the other hand it could be the Nationalist government on Formosa. Each government is interested in some goods I have in trust for others. I do not know whether it makes much difference, Mr. Mannering. Whichever it is, they will use any means to achieve their objective.” He spread his hands, palms towards the floor. “I came here to India because attempts have been made to frighten others, who live here. I hoped to find out who was responsible, but so far I have failed. Of course whoever it is will make sure that no crime can be brought to their door. You have a picturesque phrase for my position, Mr. Mannering: between the Devil and the Deep Sea.”

  Mannering did not correct him.

  “Are you sure it is one government or the other?”

  “If you say to me, can I prove my contention, no, I cannot, hard though I have tried. If you ask me whether logic or reason or even the law of probability could put the blame on anyone other than a government, the answer is no. It is a long story, although I can soon tell you enough to help you to understand. First, Mr. Mannering, what are your plans?”

  “To visit your exhibition in Hong Kong,” answered Mannering.

  A smile dawned slowly on the Chinaman’s face, and it seemed to be one of pure satisfaction. As he looked into Mannering’s eyes, his own were bright and gay.

  “Thank you very much. They have not frightened you then?”

  “Not enough to keep me away.”

  “But a little, I see.” Li Chen paused, but soon went on thoughtfully: “Is Mrs. Mannering afraid?”

  “Yes, much more than I.”

  “How great a value there is in honesty,” approved Li Chen.

  “So you left the Orienta in order to make these people believe you are too frightened to proceed, and it seems you have succeeded. What do you intend to do? Fly from here to Hong Kong as an American, such a very convincing American.” The Chinaman added that as if it gave him a great deal of satisfaction.

  “I haven’t tried to deceive an American yet,” Mannering demurred.

  “I know many of them, from all parts of the United States and no two are the same, and yet all of them have an indefinable quality which marks them as Americans to everyone else. You have that mark, as well as an unmistakably American voice. But that should not surprise me, knowing so much about you as I do. You will fly, yes?”

  “When I see you in Hong Kong I’ll tell you what route I took,” promised Mannering.

  “Such very great caution, and such wisdom, also. Mr. Mannering, I waited in Bombay to see you in this secrecy because of two things. I am myself now in very grave danger, and whoever assists me will be in equal danger. For myself, I will run any risk that is necessary, but I do not wish to jeopardise the lives of any friends.”

  The quietness of his words gave them an effect greater than any vehemence would have. Mannering felt sure that this man meant exactly what he said, and in those few simple words he had contrived to say a great deal. All of that was underlined by the cloak-and-dagger manner of their meeting, and by recollection of the strange, dark streets outside.

  “What risks are you running?” asked Mannering.

  “Death,” Li Chen answered simply.

  “Why should you be in danger of murder, and who is likely to kill you?”

  Li Chen moved forward, poured out more tea, and took the lid off a delicate-looking jar, which he proffered to Mannering; it was full of golden brown biscuits which looked as fragile as porcelain. Mannering took two; they melted in his mouth. He took two more, but Li Chen did not touch them.

  “For many years I imported precious things from China,” he told Mannering. “Some were technically smuggled, but money was paid to the Peking government. I had talked to many Chinese officials not only in nearby Canton but also in Peking; in both these places I was received as a welcome guest. This so-called smuggling was known to and tolerated by the government. Currency from outside the Communist area is difficult to obtain, and China needs to buy much more than she can hope to pay for by exports. The money demanded for these goods was always sterling, Australian pounds, Swiss francs, German marks, or Canadian or United States dollars. With so many business associations I had no difficulty in making the payments in those hard currencies, and the British authorities raised no query. There are few import regulations in Hong Kong. I am, you understand, a British citizen by birth, and also I am a man of repute. We live in a strange half-world, where we must do things which by some standards are dishonourable but in Hong Ko
ng are not only acceptable but most praiseworthy.”

  He paused, as if to allow Mannering to murmur: “No one knows that better than I.”

  “You are most kind,” said Li Chen. “You wish to ask a question perhaps?”

  “Yes. You said that some of these goods were supposed to be smuggled, and the authorities closed their eyes to it. What about the rest?”

  “The rest was bought in Hong Kong, from Chinese government agencies,” Li Chen answered. “However, this has been a time of unrest on the world markets. There were many side-effects from the assassination of President Kennedy, and there has been great reluctance to spend money on goods which might be confiscated.”

  Mannering echoed: “Confiscated?” and the emphasis betrayed his surprise.

  Li Chen spread his hands in that now familiar gesture.

  “No citizen of the United States may import into his own country any goods which are manufactured inside Red China. This ban is absolute. It applies particularly to works of art, which so many Americans wish to buy. Some have bought them in spite of the ban, and have obtained forged certificates of origin attributing the source of the goods to other parts of the world. Others bought them and stored them against the day when the ban would be lifted, as they all believed would happen one day. I have two storerooms in Hong Kong which is a treasure house of such goods, held in trust for American clients. Most reputable dealers have such storerooms. So the volume of the trade has been very great. Three, four, five million pounds a year is common. Now—” Li Chen broke off.

  “Don’t the Chinese need the hard currency any longer?” asked Mannering. Much of what he had been told he knew already, but he had never realised how tight a stranglehold it was on trade.

  “I cannot read their minds,” Li Chen said simply. “I only know that the Peking government has declared the smuggling of goods an offence against the nation, treason. It is retrospective, also. I have been accused of buying goods knowing them to have been stolen. I, who had tried so hard to be neutral, to help both sides, to keep open the channels of trade between East and West. A vital need, Mr. Mannering, one which is absolutely vital.”

  Mannering nodded: “I know. Did they accuse you openly?”

  “Oh, yes,” answered Li Chen. “A complaint was made to the Governor, but he refused to believe it. It is good that a man should have such friends. I am in no danger from my Hong Kong friends, but listed among the goods now said to have been stolen are many which are in my warehouses, some my own, some held in trust. In fact I was planning an exhibition of them, as you well know, and I truly believe it would have been the finest and the most valuable collection of Chinese and oriental art ever to be displayed. For such an occasion I dared to ask you to come, and also many others whom I knew would be enthralled by what they saw.”

  “I can well believe they would,” said Mannering. Questions were seething in his mind, but he forced himself to wait.

  This time Li Chen seemed sunk in contemplation for a long time: it was hard to think of anyone less like a man living in fear of his life. He was very grave and gentle-voiced as he went on; the only hardness about him was the light in his eyes.

  “They cannot compel the authorities to act against me, so they have come direct to me. Their agents have told me that unless I return the collection, all of the collection, whether it is mine or whether I hold it in trust for American citizens, they will kill me. And if that were not danger enough, there is more from the Nationalist government – or its agents – in Formosa. They say that the treasures are in fact theirs, that I must surrender everything to them, under pain of death. So to save my life I need two treasure houses, filled with these wonderful things. You understand what I mean when I say that I am suspended between the Devil and the Deep Sea?”

  Chapter Nine

  The Devil And The Deep Sea

  LI Chen spread his hands again, gave a self-deprecating little smile, and clapped his hands. The woman glided in with fresh green tea, and with a bowl of steaming meat on a silver tray. She put these down on the table between the two men, bowed, and disappeared, making only a faint shuffling sound. Mannering had a mental image of the wizened old woman’s face of the mother and the two children who had led him here, but the vision soon faded into the greater one, the terrifying dilemma in which Raymond Li Chen found himself.

  “The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea,” Mannering mused, not realising that he had slipped in the “blue”; nor did Li Chen appear to notice it. “I know exactly what you mean.” He had another mental picture: of Lorna’s expression when she heard about this. She would cry out in dismay and alarm: “Don’t you get involved, whatever you do don’t get involved.” And how right she would be.

  Li Chen picked up the salver, and on it were ivory chopsticks as well as two long silver forks. Gravely, he offered the dish. “A Chinese delicacy,” he explained. “It is what you would call roast duck.”

  Mannering picked up a fork; he was in no mood to handle chopsticks. He speared a piece of the duck, a rich appetising morsel, and ate it; the flavour was delicious. Li Chen used chopsticks with negligent ease, finished the mouthful, and then said: “Perhaps you will change your mind now and return to London. Undoubtedly that would be the wise as well as the only safe course.”

  “Undoubtedly,” agreed Mannering drily. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “It was not difficult, Mr. Mannering. I received your kind letter saying that you and your wife would accept my humble invitation, at the time that I was first threatened by these men of violence. Immediately I telephoned Quinns, hoping to catch you before you sailed. I understand from Mr. Larraby that I had missed you by a few hours. He told me what had happened, and also that your Scotland Yard had become involved in the investigation. He further told me that your ship would be at Bombay. I wanted to see my old friends here. You will remember Old Phirozha? His daughter and her husband now control the shop he left to them, and they do much business with me. Attempts were made to keep them away from Hong Kong, also. I have an uncle who has been an exporter of teas and spices for many years. This is his house.” He took another piece of duck. “I came by air, secretly. The Hong Kong police are guarding my shops and my warehouses; at the moment only I, personally, am in danger. I telephoned you on the ship but was told you had disembarked. I was about to telephone you at the Taj Mahal Hotel, but my uncle’s friends told him that some Chinese from Peking were also staying there, so I took these extra precautions.” The Chinaman smiled. “I know enough about you to be sure you would not be troubled by such methods. I confess I did not expect you to be able to make me so anxious. Even as I look at you, I find it difficult to believe that you are John Mannering. You look as if you are an American, a New Englander, I would say, on vacation.”

  “That’s one good thing.” Mannering smiled, but his eyes were bleak and very thoughtful. “Are you in danger then, here?”

  “I am in danger wherever I am.”

  “Have you been attacked or threatened here in Bombay?” insisted Mannering.

  “No, not here,” answered Li Chen. “But at my uncle’s place of business there have been inquiries for me. No threats, you understand, simply men who ask if I am in Bombay. Who would be interested, Mr. Mannering, except my enemies?” He placed another piece of the duck in his mouth, ate it and went on: “I telephoned you in London hoping that I would be able to stop you leaving. If you need a holiday there are other, safer, places for you to go. This is none of your business, Mr. Mannering, and none of your responsibility. I am sure your wife would agree.”

  “I’m sure she would, too,” said Mannering drily. “Who knew that I was coming to see your exhibition?”

  “Many people,” said Li Chen. “It was reported in the Hong Kong Tiger Standard, a piece of gossip, you understand. So all of Hong Kong may know. Why do you ask?”

  “Someone was very anxious to try and stop me,” Mannering pointed out. “I’d like to know why.”

  After a pause, Li Chen sai
d almost blandly: “I was anxious to stop you, and I still am, because I do not wish you to submit yourself to such danger. Your reputation is very great, Mr. Mannering, and widely known. There are inquiries which the police and the authorities can make, but it is possible that you can probe farther and in a different way. From the point of view of either Peking or Formosa it would be much better if you were not active in Hong Kong. You see, neither government will ever admit that it is exerting pressure on me. These men of violence, these gangsters, are paid by government agencies, but that is difficult to prove. In the East, authority often closes its eyes. The Hong Kong authorities will go so far and no farther. They are in a very precarious position, and they must cause no offence either to Peking or Formosa. But you – an individual of such rare ability – you might find proof of the connection between these men and their government that their guilt can be proved, and the Hong Kong authorities would not be able to ignore such proof. So you are not wanted in Hong Kong by anyone, Mr. Mannering.”

  “Except by you.”

  Raymond Li Chen shrugged.

  “I have now advised you not to come to Hong Kong.”

  “But if I find this proof of the source of the threats, proof which no one else will look for seriously, it would help you.”

  “The ways of the East are often called inscrutable,” Li Chen said. “In fact they are very simple and sensible. If proof were available, if I could say to either government that its guilt could be proved, it would withdraw.”

  “Can you be sure of that?”

  “A withdrawal would avoid loss of face. It would also avoid a crisis with the Hong Kong authorities, and therefore a crisis in London.”

  Mannering said slowly: “I see.” And in fact there were some aspects which he saw very clearly indeed. If Li Chen’s assessment was right, and it sounded irrefutable, this was a delicate issue, encroaching on politics and diplomacy. Something which could cause a spark could cause a conflagration. No one wanted that. Li Chen might well be sacrificed to expediency, but few people would be any the wiser.