The art dealer smiled blandly and turned to Manuelis. “You said when I first came here, Mr. Manuelis, that no one aboard knew about the tapestry. That you had not mentioned it or described it to anyone.”
“That is so,” Manuelis nodded.
“And yet, just now, one of these good people did accurately give a partial description of the tapestry.” Mei Wong faced Belden. “You remember, Mr. Belden?”
The stock broker registered astonishment and removed the cigar from his mouth. “What’s this?”
“Only a few moments ago,” Mei Wong went on calmly, “you accurately told us that the tapestry was an eighteenth century piece. A thing you could only know by seeing it and realizing its value. I don’t think you are as ignorant of oriental art as you would have us believe, Mr. Belden. And I suggest that your host search your quarters on board very carefully.”
With a strangled cry of anger Belden made a break for the cabin door, only to be met by one of the ship’s officers armed with a revolver. The big man stopped short and turned to the group in the cabin, with his guilt clearly showing in his coarse face.
“A small precaution I suggested,” Mei Wong smiled. “To catch a slippery frog requires more than one hand.”