"Nat Pinkerton, King Of Detectives - The Bloody Talisman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pinkerton Nat)

The hotel was in turmoil. The shots had disturbed the guests; the owner ran up with several of his employees.

The stranger dressed and opened the door. He told them briefly what had happened and showed them the Chinaman lying on the floor, his skull pierced by a bullet.

He was a short, thickset man with a very cunning face; his right hand squeezed the thin, sharp dagger with which he intended to kill his victim.

Only now did the stranger see that behind the wardrobe there was a door into the next room. It later turned out that the Chinese had entered the hotel from the courtyard, scrambled up the fire escape to the third floor and, making their way into the empty room, easily crawled into the strangerТs room.

The second Chinaman, in all likelihood, and managed to flee by the same route.

The hotel owner quickly informed the police and, around five in the morning Inspector MacConell appeared, accompanied by a stocky man with a smooth-shaven, energetic face. This was none other than the renowned New York detective Nat Pinkerton.

He had only just detained an important criminal and was still in conversation with MacConell when the latter received a report on the happenings in the Central Hotel.

Pinkerton took an interest in the "incident" and went with the inspector. It was he who discovered the route that the Chinamen had used to infiltrate the hotel.

The stranger expressed his joy on the opportunity to shake the hand of the renowned detective, about whom he had heard so much. The blond man introduced himself. He was Karl Nefeldt, a German business man who had travelled to New York to establish trade agreements with several firms.

His efforts, however, had not been rewarded with success and he intended to return to his homeland in several days.

He described in detail how he had sat in a restaurant with some friends, admitted they had warned him about visiting Chinatown, but precisely because of that, he had decided to take a walk along Mott Street. Then he told Pinkerton of his find and described all the adventures that he had come out of safe and sound, thanks to his own cool head.

The detective calmly listened him out.

"Would you be so kind, Mr. Nefeldt," he said, "as to show me the item you found on Mott Street."

Nefeldt unwrapped the paper and handed the detective the golden medallion.

Pinkerton examined it attentively and then said slowly and deliberately: "I would advise you, Mr. Nefeldt, to leave as quickly as possible. An evil fate lead you to find it! Your life is in danger. I swear that if you stay, those yellow-faced devils will do something bad to you!"

Nefeldt looked at the detective in amazement, not understanding that he had been condemned to death simply because he had discovered the golden medallion.

"I donТt understand at all!" he muttered. "Is it my fault that I found this thing that, by the way, I was going to hand in at the police station!"

Here Inspector MacConell joined the conversation: "I must draw your attention, Mr. Nefeldt, to the fact that in all of New York you will not find another man who knows Chinese customs and ways, the superstitions and extravagant habits of the Chinese and their language as well as Mr. Pinkerton. He and his assistant Bob Ruland have many times rendered us valuable services in our battle with these yellow rascals. Believe Mr. Pinkerton and make haste to follow his advice!"

"I donТt doubt," answered Karl Nefeldt, "that Mr. P inkerton is better informed of these matters than I am, but I cannot understand why the Chinese want to kill me for finding that ornament?"

"ThatТs no ornament," the detective objected, "itТs a talisman, on which a Chinese bonze has scratched his mad incantations. Many Chinese wear such talismen on their chests under their clothing. I think that this talisman belonged to a wealthy and important Chinese who was murdered yesterday. Fanatical Chinese priests sometimes invent insane horrors to satisfy the bloodthirsty instincts of the crowd, and in this case they have followed a similar plan: the bloodied talisman was taken from the chest of the murdered man and tossed on the pavement with the idea of using whomever picked it up as an offering and scapegoat for the murder of their compatriot. The Chinese, it stands to reason, subordinated themselves completely to the decision of their bonze and so, when you walked down Mott Street, they were watching from the doorways and gateways to see who would pick up the gold medallion. Unfortunately, it was you. However, they did not want to kill you immediately, otherwise this whole affair would not have happened and you would have received countless stabs from their daggers. No, they only wanted to gag and carry you off to their heathen temple and sacrifice you to their gods. YouТre lucky you didnТt lose your head. Otherwise, bitter experience would have convinced you how fanatical these people are!"

"But how did the Chinese find out in which room IТm staying in?" remarked Nefeldt.

"Very simple!" answered Nat Pinkerton. "They followed you closely and, when you went into the hotel, the spies only had to see what room a light went on. They attacked you, and because you shot one of them, on top of everything else youТve brought their vengeance on you!"

"But I cannot leave right away!" exclaimed Nefeldt. "The steamer isnТt leaving for three days!"

"In that case move to a more secluded hotel and do everything to make sure you enemies do not find out! I can recommend the hotel Victoria, on 27th Street. Move there. IТll visit you in the afternoon to find out if you were followed there too!"

Karl Nefeldt collected his baggage and left the Central Hotel by the back exit. By seven oТclock in the morning he was in a room on the eighth floor of the Victoria.