Mah Foy said, “I have noticed.”
“Questions?” Leith asked.
“Many questions.”
Leith said, “I trust that you remembered to answer them fully.”
“Quite fully,” she said.
Leith grinned. “We’ll stack these bundles to one side,” he said.
Together they moved the packages so that the doorway was cleared.
Even the Chinese girl showed curiosity as the undercover man and the cab driver returned with another load of packages.
“That all?” Leith asked.
“That’s all, sir,” the cab driver said.
When the cab driver had left, Leith closed the door and surveyed the array of packages. “Very well, Scuttle,” he said, “you may open them.”
Eagerly the undercover man produced a knife and started cutting cords.
Leith said, “Be careful, Scuttle. Many of those things are fragile.”
“Yes, sir,” the undercover man said.
He pulled back the heavy, brown wrapping paper, lifted the lid off a box, and brought out a glass bowl. “What’s this?” he asked.
“A goldfish bowl,” Leith said. “Not an ordinary goldfish bowl, of course, but one that has valuable properties.”
“I don’t see anything special, sir.”
Leith said, “You’ll observe, Scuttle, that there’s a circular partition in that bowl. When it is filled with water, this circular partition acts as a huge magnifying glass. Place that in front of an audience, and a small section of the bowl directly in back of it is magnified so that it looks as though the whole bowl is filled with water in which goldfish are swimming. As a matter of fact, only a small portion of the bowl contains water or goldfish.”
The undercover man straightened. “The audience?”
“Exactly,” Lester Leith said calmly.
Scuttle appeared slightly bewildered.
“But I don’t see what an audience has to do with it, if you don’t mind my saying so, sir?”
Leith said, “We are going in for prestidigitation, legerdemain, sleight of hand, optical illusions, parlor magic, and general hocus-pocus, Scuttle.”
“You mean you’re going to take that up as an occupation, sir?”
“Tut, tut,” Leith said. “You should know me better. I prefer to retain my amateur standing. Well, open the others, Scuttle.”
The undercover man opened a flat, heavy package. “What’s this? It looks like an ordinary double slate like those used in school.”
“You shouldn’t say that, Scuttle,” Leith said. “It dates you. However, you are quite right. Observe, Scuttle, how easy it is to communicate with the unseen forces which guard our lives. Ah, there it is — the sponge.”
“Yes, sir,” the spy said, producing the sponge from a corner of the box.
“Now, Scuttle, if you will just step into the kitchen and dampen this sponge, you can wipe off both sides of the slate. There should be some slate pencils — ah, here they are.”
Leith took out a package of slate pencils.
The undercover man, holding the sponge in his hand, stepped into the kitchenette. Leith glanced across at Mah Foy, the Chinese girl, and winked at her.
She watched him with an impassive countenance on which there was not the slightest flicker of expression, but just as the valet returned with the moistened sponge, she lowered her own right lid, although her face remained as calmly placid as though it were carved from old ivory.
“Now then,” Leith said, “if you’ll just take this slate, Scuttle, and clean it with the wet sponge. Make absolutely certain that there is no writing on it.”
“Yes, sir,” the valet said, wiping off the surfaces of the slate.
“Now take it into the bathroom, get a towel, and dry it carefully.”
Beaver produced a towel and carefully dried the slate.
“Now,” Leith said, “I don’t want you to let that slate out of your sight, Scuttle. First, we’ll put a piece of pencil between the leaves of the slate. Hold it open, Scuttle, just so. That’s right. Now we’ll close it, and you might take it over and place it on that table in the far corner of the room, being careful not to take your eyes from it for even a moment.”
The valet did as he was instructed.
“Now, Scuttle, watch closely. See if you can see the spirits.”
“The spirits, sir?”
“Yes, Scuttle, the... There they are!”
A faint squeaking noise became distinctly audible.
“Good heavens, sir!” the valet exclaimed. “Is that noise coming from — from the slate?”
“From the slate, Scuttle.”
Beaver’s eyes widened.
“And now, Scuttle,” Leith said, as the noise ceased, “I wouldn’t be surprised if we had a message from the unseen world.”
“But surely, sir, you’re fooling.”
“Not at all, Scuttle. Just pick up the slate and bring it to me. Ah, that’s right.”
Leith took the slate from the valet. Only the Chinese girl noticed the manner in which he fumbled with the catch as he opened the double slate.
A message, written in a distinctly feminine hand, appeared across the inner surface of the slate. It read: First warning. Be very careful, Beaver, not to tell any falsehoods after you have started for Honolulu. Ruth.
The spy was visibly shaken. “Good heavens!” he said.
Leith frowned. “What the devil are they talking about, Scuttle?”
“Who?” the spy asked.
“The spirits. And what is all this about a trip to Honolulu?”
“I assure you, sir, I don’t know.”
“And who is Ruth? Someone perhaps who has gone to the other shore, Scuttle?”
“The other shore, sir?”
“Yes, Scuttle. I—”
“Good grief!” the valet suddenly exclaimed, staring at Leith with eyes which seemed about to bulge from their sockets.
“What is it, Scuttle?”
“Ruth!” Beaver exclaimed. “My wife!”
“Your wife, Scuttle? I didn’t know you were married.”
“It was some time ago, sir. I was married for two years. But she was — she was killed in an auto accident.”
Leith said, closing the slate as though that disposed of the matter, “Undoubtedly, Scuttle, the message is from your departed wife who wishes to warn you against the result of any falsehood should you take a trip to Honolulu.”
Beaver turned pale. “It’s uncanny.”
“Oh, quite,” Leith said airily, dismissing the subject. “But we can’t neglect these other boxes, Scuttle.”
The spy took a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead. “If it’s all the same to you, sir,” he said, “I’d like to postpone the rest of it for a while. I’m feeling shaky, sir. I—”
Leith said, “That’s all right, Scuttle. You’d better have a drink. Perhaps Miss Foy will join us.”
The Chinese girl shook her head.
“Well,” Leith said, “a couple of Scotch and sodas, Scuttle — or perhaps you’d prefer to make yours a double brandy?”
“Yes, sir, I would.”
When the valet had filled the glasses, Leith sat on the arm of a chair, casually sipping his Scotch and soda. “Do you know, Scuttle,” he said, “there’s one other thing I didn’t get.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“A stooge.”
“But I don’t understand.”
“Did you ever see a magician on the stage?”
“Yes, sir, a couple of times.”
“Then you’ve noticed that a magician is invariably accompanied by a young stage assistant, a very beautiful young woman who is easy on the eye and whose skirts are always very short?”
“Yes, sir, I do remember that.”
Scuttle was puzzled.
“Exactly, Scuttle,” Leith said. “That’s the first principle of stage magic — divided attention. The idea is that the hand is quicker than the eye, but the eye can’t watch the hand when it’s stealing glances at a pair of beautiful legs. So what we need, Scuttle, is a girl with beautiful legs.”