Lili was accompanied to the senior inspector’s office by the sergeant who had been stationed to guard her door for the night. Forster sat there quietly looking out through the closed window onto the parade ground, where some drills were in progress. The sounds of horses and the raised voices of drill instructors broke into the room when the door opened, and were muted again as the sergeant left. Inspector Secretan introduced himself and directed her to sit in the empty chair alongside Forster.
“The Commissioner was pleased that his notice in the Gazette succeeded in reaching you, Miss Chan,” Secretan said, “although we were taken aback that the result should prove so dramatic.”
“I do assure you, Inspector,” she said, “that Detective Forster was entirely up to the task. Every hair on my head remains unharmed.”
“That’s well and good,” said Secretan. “Well and good.” He paused to draw on his cigar, glancing over the statements pertaining to the previous night’s events. “Of course, Detective Forster’s use of deadly force has set in motion certain procedures designed to assess whether it was justified, but from these accounts, it does appear in order, at first glance. Indeed, he is to be commended for ensuring your safety in the course of your response to the Commissioner’s invitation.
“The detective is soon to act as a prosecution witness, as you are probably aware, at the Central Criminal Court, a duty that will not be impeded by the matter at hand. However, questions have now been raised concerning you yourself, which require some answers. Forster has been designated the officer in charge of establishing the facts of your case.”
He pressed a brass button on the edge of his desk, and somewhere beyond the closed door, a bell gave a muffled note. After a moment, the sergeant appeared.
“Miss Moira Sculley is to be brought here from detention, and have the clerk attend with his notebook,” Secretan ordered.
A guard led Moira in, her arm in a sling. Lili gave her an intensely searching look as she passed, and a quizzical little frown crossed Moira’s face for an instant.
“Lovely to see you so soon,” Lili said softly as Moira sat down, the guard standing next to her. Forster gave Lili a blank look before turning to Moira.
“You are here for the part you played in Miss Chan’s abduction.”
Moira shrugged. “She come of her own free will.”
Lili briefly cleared her throat. “I don’t believe I used that exact word, Detective Forster,” she said. Forster looked at her in astonishment. “At least,” she continued, “not in connection with Miss … Sculley. In fact, I formed the distinct impression that she herself was subject to the coercion of that horrid corpulent gentleman now deceased, who introduced himself to me as Algernon. An unconvincing alias, obviously.”
“I see,” Forster said curtly. “Let us accept that premise, then, since you are the only one, Miss Chan, who had a chance to observe their relationship.”
“After all,” said Lili, “he did shoot her. I believe it was to prevent her from flinging the door open in an effort to abet my dash for freedom, just as you arrived so heroically, Detective.”
“Yet, Miss Chan, according to what you told me last night about the incident in the swamp, Miss Sculley was at very least the instrument employed by this … Algernon … to plant a note in your pocket, and to surveil your movements throughout the day.”
“So I thought at the time, Detective,” Lili said. “But I was extremely disquieted on arriving at Algernon’s shack. Everything was a blur, to an extent that I fear I may have jumped to that conclusion. I must admit to not seeing the young woman’s face clearly when whoever-they-were bumped into me outside the jeweller’s…”
“Quite right,” Moira piped up. “I ain’t been near Bourke Street for weeks.” Forster gave her a sharp look.
“Bourke Street?”
“I must have let that drop during our discussion at the shack,” Lili added quickly.
“Well, on another detail… let me read from Miss Sculley’s statement,” Forster said, thumbing through a sheaf of papers. “‘Then the fancy Chinese tart admitted to Algy she was the one that done in his big brother’s mate Fang in San Francisco and stole his loot. Oh, she was cool about it, alright.’”
“The poor child must have misheard,” said Lili. “I said no such thing. You will recall that Fang was the reprehensible highbinder who kept me his slave for months until he was assassinated by a rival tong. It was in all the papers. Naturally, I changed my identity after that fortunate incident, in order to escape any further maltreatment.”
Forster persisted with Moira. “Who is this Blue Marquis you referred to in your statement, who was apparently the reason Miss Chan was lured to the swamp?”
“A valuable diamond ring she murdered him for…,” said Moira, uncertainly.
“This?” Forster took the ring from his pocket and laid it on the table before her. “Our constables retrieved it this morning.”
“That’s the one.”
“We had it looked at. It’s a worthless piece of paste,” the detective said.
“If you don’t mind,” said Lili, “I would like it back regardless, because it holds no small sentimental value for me – it’s a tiny fragment of my past self, one might say, worthless as it may be.”
“Well … it’s been all too much for me.” Moira gave Lili a glance now more shrewd than spiteful.
“She is obviously confused,” Lili said. “There is no reason for you to hold her any longer, after what she has been through with that thug. Who knows what lies he probably told her about me?” She dabbed the corner of her eye with her handkerchief.
Inspector Secretan gave her a second to compose herself.
“Miss Sculley may be dismissed. Kindly see her to the front gates, Sergeant.”
When they had gone, he turned to Forster.
“It seems to me the mystery of this so-called Blue Marquis ring is likely no more than the deluded imaginings of a homicidal monomaniac, who is now resting deservedly in the barracks mortuary. But before we draw a line under the case, it would perhaps be best for you to accompany Miss Chan on a visit to Mr Kaminski’s when she returns to learn the results of his appraisal. In a semi-informal capacity, as it were, if that would be permissible, Miss Chan?”
“Thank you, Inspector, that would be entirely apropos. And perhaps after that we might be able to proceed with our excursion to the Gilbert and Sullivan? I’ve heard all about it and am absolutely dying to see it. Detective Forster?”
But Forster only gave her a slight nod and a grim smile.
Chapter to be continued
From the draft novel Stawell Bardo © Michael Guest 2026
Furin Chime Press 
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