# The Chinese Jewel/Chapter 12

pp. 39–42.

### CHAPTER XII. THE SCUFFLE.

STEELE was not unprepared for Reagan's first remark. No sooner had he returned to Marvella than he said:
“What we have to say I'd rather was not said between four walls. As has just been your experience, and as the old adage is, walls have ears. Will you come out with me?”
Marvella regarded him for a long time and in silence. Then she caught up a wrap and returned equably:
“It's a lovely evening. I should enjoy a breath of fresh air for—shall we say ten minutes?—before retiring.”
Together, and very quietly, they went out. Already Steele, remembering Alice's directions should he care to leave his room, went to the small window, opened it cautiously, and climbed out upon the roof. It was dark, yet there were stars, and he crouched low and moved with great precaution, He came to the kitchen porch, swung down, reached the ground almost without a sound. Then, keeping always in the darkest portions of the gardens, passing now and then in the thicker darkness under some tree, he skirted the house. He made out the forms of Reagan and Marvella moving slowly, side by side, through the faint starlight. They had left the porch, and were strolling down the driveway. No sound of their voices came to him, and he knew that the man had not begun what he had to say yet; he could see the glow of Reagan's freshly lighted cigar.
Steele could hardly hope to hear what passed between them. But he could guess something of it from their attitudes; he would be vastly interested in knowing if they returned in due time, strolling close together and in amity, or if they held aloof.
Presently they were lost to his sight. Then he plunged into the bordering grove and made a wide circle, hoping to come to some point ahead from which again he could see them. In the wood it was much darker; after a few hasty steps he was forced again to move with stealthy regard to the fact that a dead branch snapping underfoot might result in almost anything. Groping his way like a shadow, it was but a few moments when he made a discovery. There was some one else in the wood ahead of him, that some one moving with a guarded step like his own, crouching, pausing, listening, moving on again. And this some one, whose form he could make out only as a vague blur now and then, to lose utterly at intervals, evidently was watching Reagan and Marvella, also seemed, like Steele, to be anxious to draw close to them without being observed.
Some one who stalked Reagan and Marvella. He frowned, puzzled to guess who it would be. Surely not Tony Waldron? Not Colonel Harwood, who by now, unless his pretense had been a lie, should be in bed? Not Stephen Carrington himself? Was the boy suspicious after all? Had he not been blinded entirely by Marvella's clever acting?
From that instant on Steele found himself shadowing a shadow rather than thinking exclusively of the two strolling on somewhere ahead. And then came his second start of surprise. Ahead of him, not a hundred paces, was an open place in the wood. Through this he saw a form dart swiftly. And it was Tony Waldron! Waldron hastening to be ahead of his own master! What did this mean? Was Waldron double crossing the man who employed and trusted him? Steele would not have judged him above this sort of thing; but he could hardly believe that Waldron dared. Before now Reagan had taught the man his bitter, bitter lesson.
Then he saw that the man he had been shadowing was not Waldron after all. He had not seen Waldron until this second. But there was another man stalking Waldron, and, in, turn, he it was whom Steele had followed. This man, too, as Waldron disappeared beyond the open space, showed himself for an instant, a very big man, catlike in his movements, a man vaguely familiar.
Kwang-kung! At last Kwang-kung himself had taken a hand. He was watching Waldron, who watched Reagan and Marvella! He had learned evidently that Marvella had come here from New York, and straightway had followed her. Her and the Beauty of Burma.
With caution redoubled, his hand in his coat pocket, where his revolver was, Steele crept on. There was no sense in seeking now to find explanations. He could only watch and pray that from the actions of the men in front of him explanation would be forthcoming. Everything now was inexplicable. Tony Waldron's actions told that he was seeking to slip through the woods without being seen; hence it was clear that he realized Kwang-kung or some one else might wish to follow him. Further, since he still went forward with great caution, it was clear that he did not know himself followed.
Twice, after that, Steele caught glimpses of Reagan and Marvella. They were still keeping out in the open, strolling along the driveway, holding to the middle of the road. Apparently Reagan was talking, though his voice was low-pitched and alone for Marvella's ears. They were side by side and in step. When he saw them the second time Steele fancied that Marvella's hand rested in her companion's arm.
Again he lost them, forgot them for the two silent figures slipping on through the wood. He managed to keep just about as near Kwang-kung as the big Chinese kept to Waldron. Then suddenly, breaking through the calm serenity of the summer night, came the sharp sound of a scuffle. Had Kwang-kung thrown himself upon Tony Waldron? Or had Waldron, aware of the pursuit, ambushed the man trailing him? Steele broke into a run and dashed on toward them through the trees.
For the third time now he saw Reagan and Marvella. They stood tense and motionless, staring toward the black shadows under the grove where the short struggle had occurred. Already that struggle was over. Steele whipped out his revolver and hastened on.
Now at last he could make out, though dimly, what was going on. A man was down; two other men had thrown themselves upon him, had silenced him with a knife for all time or with the threat of a knife. Still another man stood over them. And this man was Kwang-kung. Hence it must be Tony Waldron who lay there, and the hands at Waldron's throat must be the hands of Kwang-kung's men.
Waldron was quiet now. The two men upon him stood up. Slowly and standing between them Tony Waldron rose to his own feet. There was an arm outflung, pointing; there was a glint of steel, warning. The two men moved away and into the deeper darkness, and Waldron, with never a word, moved along with them, an arm held at each side of him. Kwang-kung stood watching.
“Waldron was going to warn Reagan of something,” surmised Steele promptly. “Perhaps that the chink had cut into the game. Kwang-kung simply beat him to it and headed him off. That they haven't stuck a knife into Tony already means that if he keeps his mouth shut they'll let him go in due time. It isn't Tony they want; it's the Beauty of Burma. And Marvella!”
Kwang-kung again moved on, a silent, sinister figure. Steele, following him, came to the spot where Waldron had fallen. He stopped a moment, and so it happened that he saw something on the ground; Waldron's pocket handkerchief, he at first thought. He stooped to make sure. It was a scrap of paper.
He turned his back toward the direction of Reagan and Marvella, the general direction in which Kwang-kung had taken, protected the paper from sight by shielding it with his coat, and turned his flash light on it. The writing was no doubt Waldron's. Waldron had planned to slip his warning into Reagan's hand so that the latter might read and his companion know nothing of its import. The words said briefly:
   Steele is here. Kwang-kung is here. Watch your step.
Sémehow Waldron had discovered that Steele was at Blake's farm! Reagan did not know yet. Steele pondered swiftly. Then, a sudden purpose taking form in his mind, he tore off a corner of the paper so that the first three words were destroyed, and the paper now merely conveyed the warning that Kwang-kung was here. He picked up a stone, wrapped the larger fragment about it, and moved on, paralleling the driveway, drawing a little nearer Reagan and Marvella. He saw them still standing, drawn close together, looking wonderingly toward the wood whence a moment ago had come to them the noise of a scuffle and whence now issued only silence.