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diff --git a/5697-h/5697-h.htm b/5697-h/5697-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f7b4ec --- /dev/null +++ b/5697-h/5697-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13823 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Tales of Chinatown, by Sax Rohmer + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Chinatown, by Sax Rohmer + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tales of Chinatown + +Author: Sax Rohmer + +Release Date: June 11, 2009 [EBook #5697] +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF CHINATOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Alan Johns, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + TALES OF CHINATOWN + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Sax Rohmer + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + 1916 + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE DAUGHTER OF HUANG CHOW </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> KERRY'S KID </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> VII </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> THE PIGTAIL OF HI WING HO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> IV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> THE HOUSE OF GOLDEN JOSS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> IV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> MAN WITH THE SHAVEN SKULL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> V </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> THE WHITE HAT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> IV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> TCHERIAPIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> II </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> THE DANCE OF THE VEILS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> IV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> THE HAND OF THE MANDARIN QUONG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> III </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> THE KEY OF THE TEMPLE OF HEAVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0056"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0057"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0058"> VI </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + THE DAUGHTER OF HUANG CHOW + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + “DIAMOND FRED” + </h3> + <p> + In the saloon bar of a public-house, situated only a few hundred yards + from the official frontier of Chinatown, two men sat at a small table in a + corner, engaged in earnest conversation. They afforded a sharp contrast. + One was a thick-set and rather ruffianly looking fellow, not too cleanly + in either person or clothing, and, amongst other evidences that at one + time he had known the prize ring, possessing a badly broken nose. His + companion was dressed with that spruceness which belongs to the successful + East End Jew; he was cleanly shaven, of slight build, and alert in manner + and address. + </p> + <p> + Having ordered and paid for two whiskies and sodas, the Jew, raising his + glass, nodded to his companion and took a drink. The glitter of a + magnificent diamond which he wore seemed to attract the other's attention + almost hypnotically. + </p> + <p> + “Cheerio, Freddy!” said the thick-set man. “Any news?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing much,” returned the one addressed as Freddy, setting his glass + upon the table and selecting a cigarette from a packet which he carried in + his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so sure,” growled the other, watching him suspiciously. “You've + been lying low for a long time, and it's not like you to slack off except + when there's something big in sight.” + </p> + <p> + “Hm!” said his companion, lighting his cigarette. “What do you mean + exactly?” + </p> + <p> + Jim Poland—for such was the big man's name—growled and spat + reflectively into a spittoon. + </p> + <p> + “I've had my eye on you, Freddy,” he replied; “I've had my eye on you!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have you?” murmured the other. “But tell me what you mean!” + </p> + <p> + Beneath his suave manner lay a threat, and, indeed, Freddy Cohen, known to + his associates as “Diamond Fred,” was in many ways a formidable + personality. He had brought to his chosen profession of crook a first-rate + American training, together with all that mental agility and cleverness + which belong to his race, and was at once an object of envy and admiration + amongst the fraternity which keeps Scotland Yard busy. + </p> + <p> + Jim Poland, physically a more dangerous character, was not in the same + class with him; but he was not without brains of a sort, and Cohen, + although smiling agreeably, waited with some anxiety for his reply. + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” growled Poland, “that you're not wasting your time with Lala + Huang for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” returned Cohen lightly. “She's a pretty girl; but what + business is it of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “None at all. I ain't interested in 'er good looks; neither are you.” + </p> + <p> + Cohen shrugged and raised his glass again. + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” growled Poland, leaning across the table. “I know, and I'm in + on it. D'ye hear me? I'm in on it. These are hard times, and we've got to + stick together.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Cohen, “that's the game, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “That's the game right enough. You won't go wrong if you bring me in, even + at fifty-fifty, because maybe I know things about old Huang that you don't + know.” + </p> + <p> + The Jew's expression changed subtly, and beneath his drooping lids he + glanced aside at the speaker. Then: + </p> + <p> + “It's no promise,” he said, “but what do you know?” + </p> + <p> + Poland bent farther over the table. + </p> + <p> + “Chinatown's being watched again. I heard this morning that Red Kerry was + down here.” + </p> + <p> + Cohen laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Red Kerry!” he echoed. “Red Kerry means nothing in my young life, Jim.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't 'e?” returned Jim, snarling viciously. “The way he cleaned up that + dope crowd awhile back seemed to show he was no jug, didn't it?” + </p> + <p> + The Jew made a facial gesture as if to dismiss the subject. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” continued Poland. “Think that way if you like. But the + patrols have been doubled. I suppose you know that? And it's a cert there + are special men on duty, ever since the death of that Chink.” + </p> + <p> + Cohen shifted uneasily, glancing about him in a furtive fashion. + </p> + <p> + “See what I mean?” continued the other. “Chinatown ain't healthy just + now.” + </p> + <p> + He finished his whisky at a draught, and, standing up, lurched heavily + across to the counter. He returned with two more glasses. Then, reseating + himself and bending forward again: + </p> + <p> + “There's one thing I reckon you don't know,” he whispered in Cohen's ear. + “I saw that Chink talking to Lala Huang only a week before the time he was + hauled out of Limehouse Reach. I'm wondering, Diamond, if, with all your + cleverness, you may not go the same way.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't try to pull the creep stuff on me, Jim,” said Cohen uneasily. “What + are you driving at, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Poland, sipping his whisky reflectively, “how did that + Chink get into the river?” + </p> + <p> + “How the devil do I know?” + </p> + <p> + “And what killed him? It wasn't drowning, although he was all swelled up.” + </p> + <p> + “See here, old pal,” said Cohen. “I know 'Frisco better than you know + Limehouse. Let me tell you that this little old Chinatown of yours is pie + to me. You're trying to get me figuring on Chinese death traps, secret + poisons, and all that junk. Boy, you're wasting your poetry. Even if you + did see the Chink with Lala, and I doubt it—Oh, don't get excited, + I'm speaking plain—there's no connection that I can see between the + death of said Chink and old Huang Chow.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't there?” growled Poland huskily. He grasped the other's wrist as in + a vise and bent forward so that his battered face was close to the pale + countenance of the Jew. “I've been covering old Huang for months and + months. Now I'm going to tell you something. Since the death of that Chink + Red Kerry's been covering him, too.” + </p> + <p> + “See here!” Cohen withdrew his arm from the other's grasp angrily. “You + can't freeze me out of this claim with bogey stuff. You're listed, my lad, + and you know it. Chief Inspector Kerry is your pet nightmare. But if he + walked in here right now I could ask him to have a drink. I wouldn't but I + could. You've got the wrong angle, Jim. Lala likes me fine, and although + she doesn't say much, what she does say is straight. I'll ask her to-night + about the Chink.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll be a damned fool.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “I say you'll be a damned fool. I'm warning you, Freddy. There are Chinks + and Chinks. All the boys know old Huang Chow has got a regular gold mine + buried somewhere under the floor. But all the boys don't know what I know, + and it seems that you don't either.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + Jim Poland bent forward more urgently, again seizing Cohen's wrist, and: + </p> + <p> + “Huang Chow is a mighty big bug amongst the Chinese,” he whispered, + glancing cautiously about him. “He's hellish clever and rotten with money. + A man like that wants handling. I'm not telling you what I know. But call + it fifty-fifty and maybe you'll come out alive.” + </p> + <p> + The brow of Diamond Fred displayed beads of perspiration, and with a blue + silk handkerchief which he carried in his breast pocket he delicately + dried his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “You're an old hand at this stuff, Jim,” he muttered. “It amounts to this, + I suppose; that if I don't agree you'll queer my game?” + </p> + <p> + Jim Poland's brow lowered and he clenched his fists formidably. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said in his hoarse voice. “It ain't your claim any more than + mine. You've covered it different, that's all. Yours was always the + petticoat lay. Mine's slower but safer. Is anyone else in with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we'll double up. Now I'll tell you something. I was backing out.” + </p> + <p> + “What? You were going to quit?” + </p> + <p> + “I was.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the thing's too dead easy, and a thing like that always looks + like hell to me.” + </p> + <p> + Freddy Cohen finished his glass of whisky. + </p> + <p> + “Wait while I get some more drinks,” he said. + </p> + <p> + In this way, then, at about the hour of ten on a stuffy autumn night, in + the crowded bar of that Wapping public-house, these two made a compact; + and of its outcome and of the next appearance of Cohen, the + Jewish-American cracksman, within the ken of man, I shall now proceed to + tell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + THE END OF COHEN + </h3> + <p> + “I've been expecting this,” said Chief Inspector Kerry. He tilted his + bowler hat farther forward over his brow and contemplated the ghastly + exhibit which lay upon the slab of the mortuary. Two other police officers—one + in uniform—were present, and they treated the celebrated Chief + Inspector with the deference which he had not only earned but had always + demanded from his subordinates. + </p> + <p> + Earmarked for important promotion, he was an interesting figure as he + stood there in the gloomy, ill-lighted place, his pose that of an athlete + about to perform a long jump, or perhaps, as it might have appeared to + some, that of a dancing-master about to demonstrate a new step. + </p> + <p> + His close-cropped hair was brilliantly red, and so was his short, wiry, + aggressive moustache. He was ruddy of complexion, and he looked out + unblinkingly upon the world with a pair of steel-blue eyes. Neat he was to + spruceness, and while of no more than medium height he had the shoulders + of an acrobat. + </p> + <p> + The detective who stood beside him, by name John Durham, had one trait in + common with his celebrated superior. This was a quick keenness, a sort of + alert vitality, which showed in his eyes, and indeed in every line of his + thin, clean-shaven face. Kerry had picked him out as the most promising + junior in his department. + </p> + <p> + “Give me the particulars,” said the Chief Inspector. “It isn't robbery. + He's wearing a diamond ring worth two hundred pounds.” + </p> + <p> + His diction was rapid and terse—so rapid as to create the impression + that he bit off the ends of the longer words. He turned his fierce blue + eyes upon the uniformed officer who stood at the end of the slab. + </p> + <p> + “They are very few, Chief Inspector,” was the reply. “He was hauled out by + the river police shortly after midnight, at the lower end of Limehouse + Reach. He was alive then—they heard his cry—but he died while + they were hauling him into the boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Any statement?” rapped Kerry. + </p> + <p> + “He was past it, Chief Inspector. According to the report of the officer + in charge, he mumbled something which sounded like: 'It has bitten me,' + just before he became unconscious.” + </p> + <p> + “'It has bitten me,'” murmured Kerry. “The divisional surgeon has seen + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Chief Inspector. And in his opinion the man did not die from + drowning, but from some form of virulent poisoning.” + </p> + <p> + “Poisoning?” + </p> + <p> + “That's the idea. There will be a further examination, of course. Either a + hypodermic injection or a bite.” + </p> + <p> + “A bite?” said Kerry. “The bite of what?” + </p> + <p> + “That I cannot say, Chief Inspector. A venomous reptile, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry stared down critically at the swollen face of the victim, and then + glanced sharply aside at Durham. + </p> + <p> + “Accounts for his appearance, I suppose,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Durham quietly. “He hadn't been in the water long enough to + look like that.” He turned to the local officer. “Is there any theory as + to the point at which he went in?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, an arrest has been made.” + </p> + <p> + “By whom? of whom?” rapped Kerry. + </p> + <p> + “Two constables patrolling the Chinatown area arrested a man for + suspicious loitering. He turned out to be a well-known criminal—Jim + Poland, with a whole list of convictions against him. They're holding him + at Limehouse Station, and the theory is that he was operating with———” + He nodded in the direction of the body. + </p> + <p> + “Then who's the smart with the swollen face?” inquired Kerry. “He's a new + one on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he's been identified by one of the K Division men. He is an + American crook with a clean slate, so far as this side is concerned. Cohen + is his name. And the idea seems to be that he went in at some point + between where he was found by the river police and the point at which Jim + Poland was arrested.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry snapped his teeth together audibly, and: + </p> + <p> + “I'm open to learn,” he said, “that the house of Huang Chow is within that + area.” + </p> + <p> + “It is.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so. He died the same way the Chinaman died awhile ago,” snapped + Kerry savagely. + </p> + <p> + “It looks very queer.” He glanced aside at the local officer. “Cover him + up,” he ordered, and, turning, he walked briskly out of the mortuary, + followed by Detective Durham. + </p> + <p> + Although dawn was not far off, this was the darkest hour of the night, so + that even the sounds of dockland were muted and the riverside slept as + deeply as the great port of London ever sleeps. Vague murmurings there + were and distant clankings, with the hum of machinery which is never + still. + </p> + <p> + Few of London's millions were awake at that hour, yet Scotland Yard was + awake in the person of the fierce-eyed Chief Inspector and his + subordinate. Perhaps those who lightly criticize the Metropolitan Force + might have learned a new respect for the tireless vigilance which keeps + London clean and wholesome, had they witnessed this scene on the borders + of Limehouse, as Kerry, stepping into a waiting taxi-cab accompanied by + Durham, proceeded to Limehouse Police Station in that still hour when the + City slept. + </p> + <p> + The arrival of Kerry created something of a stir amongst the officials on + duty. His reputation in these days was at least as great as that of the + most garrulous Labour member. + </p> + <p> + The prisoner was in cells, but the Chief Inspector elected to interview + him in the office; and accordingly, while the officer in charge sat at an + extremely tidy writing-table, tapping the blotting-pad with a pencil, and + Detective John Durham stood beside him, Kerry paced up and down the little + room, deep in reflection, until the door opened and the prisoner was + brought in. + </p> + <p> + One swift glance the Chief Inspector gave at the battle-scarred face, and + recognized instantly that this was a badly frightened man. Crossing to the + table he took up a typewritten slip which lay there, and: + </p> + <p> + “Your name is James Poland?” he said. “Four convictions; one, robbery with + violence.” + </p> + <p> + Jim Poland nodded sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “You were arrested at the corner of Pekin Street about midnight. What were + you doing there?” + </p> + <p> + “Taking a walk.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll say it again,” rapped Kerry, fixing his fierce eyes upon the man's + face. “What were you doing there?” + </p> + <p> + “I've told you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I tell you you're a liar. Where did you leave the man Cohen?” + </p> + <p> + Poland blinked his small eyes, cleared his throat, and looked down at the + floor uneasily. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Who's Cohen?” he grunted. + </p> + <p> + “You mean, who was Cohen?” cried Kerry. + </p> + <p> + The shot went home. The man clenched his fists and looked about the room + from face to face. + </p> + <p> + “You don't tell me———” he began huskily. + </p> + <p> + “I've told you,” said Kerry. “He's on the slab. Spit out the truth; it'll + be good for your health.” + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated, then looked up, his eyes half closed and a cunning + expression upon his face. + </p> + <p> + “Make out your own case,” he said. “You've got nothing against me.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry snapped his teeth together viciously. + </p> + <p> + “I've told you what happened to your pal,” he warned. “If you're a wise + man you'll come in on our side, before the same thing happens to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you're talking about,” growled Poland. + </p> + <p> + Kerry nodded to the constable at the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Take him back,” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + Jim Poland being returned to his cell, Kerry, as the door closed behind + the prisoner and his guard, stared across at Durham where he stood beside + the table. + </p> + <p> + “An old hand,” he said. “But there's another way.” He glanced at the + officer in charge. “Hold him till the morning. He'll prove useful.” + </p> + <p> + From his waistcoat pocket he took out a slip of chewing gum, unwrapped it, + and placed the mint-flavoured wafer between his large white teeth. He bit + upon it savagely, settled his hat upon his head, and, turning, walked + toward the door. In the doorway he paused. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me, Durham,” he said. “I am leaving the conduct of the case + entirely in your hands from now onward.” + </p> + <p> + Detective Durham looked surprised and not a little anxious. + </p> + <p> + “I am doing so for two reasons,” continued the Chief Inspector. “These two + reasons I shall now explain.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <h3> + THE SECRET TREASURE-HOUSE + </h3> + <p> + Unlike its sister colony in New York, there are no show places in + Limehouse. The visitor sees nothing but mean streets and dark doorways. + The superficial inquirer comes away convinced that the romance of the + Asiatic district has no existence outside the imaginations of writers of + fiction. Yet here lies a secret quarter, as secret and as strange, in its + smaller way, as its parent in China which is called the Purple Forbidden + City. + </p> + <p> + On a morning when mist lay over the Thames reaches, softening the + harshness of the dock buildings and lending an air of mystery to the + vessels stealing out upon the tide, a man walked briskly along Limehouse + Causeway, looking about him inquiringly, as one unfamiliar with the + neighbourhood. Presently he seemed to recognize a turning to the right, + and he pursued this for a time, now walking more slowly. + </p> + <p> + A European woman, holding a half-caste baby in her arms, stood in an open + doorway, watching him uninterestedly. Otherwise, except for one neatly + dressed young Chinaman, who passed him about halfway along the street, + there was nothing which could have told the visitor that he had crossed + the borderline dividing West from East and was now in an Oriental town. + </p> + <p> + A very narrow alleyway between two dingy houses proved to be the spot for + which he was looking; and, having stared about him for a while, he entered + this alleyway. At the farther end it was crossed T-fashion, by another + alley, the only object of interest being an iron post at the crossing, and + the scenery being made up entirely of hideous brick walls. + </p> + <p> + About halfway along on the left, set in one of these walls, were strong + wooden gates, apparently those of a warehouse. Beside them was a door + approached by two very dirty steps. There was a bell-push near the door, + but upon neither of these entrances was there any plate to indicate the + name of the proprietor of the establishment. + </p> + <p> + From his pocket-book the visitor extracted a card, consulted something + written upon it, and then pressed the bell. + </p> + <p> + It was very quiet in this dingy little court. No sound of the busy + thoroughfares penetrated here; and although the passage forming the top of + the “T” practically marked the river bank, only dimly could one discern + the sounds which belong to a seaport. + </p> + <p> + Presently the door was opened by a Chinese boy who wore the ordinary + native working dress, and who regarded the man upon the step with oblique, + tired-looking eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Huang Chow?” asked the caller. + </p> + <p> + The boy nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You wantchee him see?” + </p> + <p> + “If he is at home.” + </p> + <p> + The boy glanced at the card, which the visitor still held between finger + and thumb, and extended his hand silently. The card was surrendered. It + was that of an antique dealer of Dover Street, Piccadilly, and written + upon the back was the following: “Mr. Hampden would like to do business + with you.” The signature of the dealer followed. + </p> + <p> + The boy turned and passed along a dim and perfectly unfurnished passage + which the opening of the door had revealed, while Mr. Hampden stood upon + the step and lighted a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + In less than a minute the boy returned and beckoned to him to come in. As + he did so, and the door was closed, he almost stumbled, so dark was the + passage. + </p> + <p> + Presently, guided by the boy, he found himself in a very business-like + little office, where a girl sat at an American desk, looking up at him + inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + She was of a dark and arresting type. Without being pretty in the European + sense, there was something appealing in her fine, dark eyes, and she + possessed the inviting smile which is the heritage of Eastern women. Her + dress was not unlike that of any other business girl, except that the neck + of her blouse was cut very low, a fashion affected by many Eurasians, and + she wore a gaily coloured sash, and large and very costly pearl ear-rings. + As Mr. Hampden paused in the doorway: + </p> + <p> + “Good morning,” said the girl, glancing down at the card which lay upon + the desk before her. “You come from Mr. Isaacs, eh?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a caressing glance from beneath half-lowered + lashes, but missed no detail of his appearance. She did not quite like his + moustache, and thought that he would have looked better cleanshaven. + Nevertheless, he was a well-set-up fellow, and her manner evidenced + approval. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, smiling genially. “I have a small commission to + execute, and I am told that you can help me.” + </p> + <p> + The girl paused for a moment, and then: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very likely,” she said, speaking good English but with an odd + intonation. “It is not jade? We have very little jade.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I wanted an enamelled casket.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind?” + </p> + <p> + “Cloisonne.” + </p> + <p> + “Cloisonne? Yes, we have several.” + </p> + <p> + She pressed a bell, and, glancing up at the boy who had stood throughout + the interview at the visitor's elbow, addressed him rapidly in Chinese. He + nodded his head and led the way through a second doorway. Closing this, he + opened a third and ushered Mr. Hampden into a room which nearly caused the + latter to gasp with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + One who had blundered from Whitechapel into the Khan Khalil, who had been + transported upon a magic carpet from a tube station to the Taj Mahal, or + dropped suddenly upon Lebanon hills to find himself looking down upon the + pearly domes and jewelled gardens of Damascus, could not well have been + more surprised. This great treasure-house of old Huang Chow was one of + Chinatown's secrets—a secret shared only by those whose commercial + interests were identical with the interests of Huang Chow. + </p> + <p> + The place was artificially lighted by lamps which themselves were + beautiful objects of art, and which swung from the massive beams of the + ceiling. The floor of the warehouse, which was partly of stone, was + covered with thick matting, and spread upon it were rugs and carpets of + Karadagh, Kermanshah, Sultan-abad, and Khorassan, with lesser-known + loomings of almost equal beauty. Skins of rare beasts overlay the divans. + Furniture of ivory, of ebony and lemonwood, preciously inlaid, gave to the + place an air of cunning confusion. There were tall cabinets, there were + caskets and chests of exquisite lacquer and enamel, loot of an emperor's + palace; robes heavy with gold; slippers studded with jewels; strange + carven ivories; glittering weapons; pots, jars, and bowls, as delicate and + as fragile as the petals of a lily. + </p> + <p> + Last, but not least, sitting cross-legged upon a low couch, was old Huang + Chow, smoking a great curved pipe, and peering half blindly across the + place through large horn-rimmed spectacles. This couch was set immediately + beside a wide ascending staircase, richly carpeted, and on the other side + of the staircase, in a corresponding recess, upon a gilded trestle carved + to represent the four claws of a dragon, rested perhaps the strangest + exhibit of that strange collection—a Chinese coffin of exquisite + workmanship. + </p> + <p> + The boy retired, and Mr. Hampden found himself alone with Huang Chow. No + word had been exchanged between master and servant, but: + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Mr. Hampden,” said the Chinaman in a high, thin voice. + “Please be seated. It is from Mr. Isaacs you come?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + PERSONAL REPORT OF DETECTIVE JOHN DURHAM TO CHIEF INSPECTOR KERRY, OFFICER + IN CHARGE OF LIMEHOUSE INQUIRY + </p> + <p> + Dear Chief Inspector,—Following your instructions I returned and + interviewed the prisoner Poland in his cell. I took the line which you had + suggested, pointing out to him that he had nothing to gain and everything + to lose by keeping silent. + </p> + <p> + “Answer my questions,” I said, “and you can walk straight out. Otherwise, + you'll be up before the magistrate, and on your record alone it will mean + a holiday which you probably don't want.” + </p> + <p> + He was very truculent, but I got him in a good humour at last, and he + admitted that he had been cooperating with the dead man, Cohen, in an + attempt to burgle the house of Huang Chow. His reluctance to go into + details seemed to be due rather to fear of Huang Chow than to fear of the + law, and I presently gathered that he regarded Huang as responsible for + the death not only of Cohen, but also of the Chinaman who was hauled out + of the river about three weeks ago, as you well remember. The post-mortem + showed that he had died of some kind of poisoning, and when we saw Cohen + in the mortuary, his swollen appearance struck me as being very similar to + that of the Chinaman. (See my report dated 31st ultimo.) + </p> + <p> + He finally agreed to talk if I would promise that he should not be charged + and that his name should never be mentioned to anyone in connection with + what he might tell me. I promised him that outside the ordinary official + routine I would respect his request, and he told me some very curious + things, which no doubt have a bearing on the case. + </p> + <p> + For instance, he had discovered—I don't know in what way—that + the dead Chinaman, whose name was Pi Lung, had been in negotiation with + Huang Chow for some sort of job in his warehouse. Poland had seen the man + talking to Huang's daughter, at the end of the alley which leads to the + place. He seemed to attach extraordinary importance to this fact. At last: + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what it is,” he said. “That Chink was a stranger to + Limehouse; I can swear to it. He was a gent of his hands; I reckon they've + got 'em in China as well as here. He went out for the old boy's money-box, + and finished like Cohen finished.” + </p> + <p> + “Make your meaning clearer,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “My meaning's this: Old Huang Chow is the biggest dealer in stolen and + smuggled valuables from overseas we've got in London. He's something else + as well; he's a big swell in China. But here's the point. He's got + business with buyers all over London, and they have to pay cash—no + checks. He doesn't bank it: I've proved that. He's got it in gold, or + diamonds, or something, being wise to present conditions, hidden there in + the house. Pi Lung was after his hoard. He didn't get it. Cohen and me was + after it. Where's Cohen?” + </p> + <p> + I agreed that it looked very suspicious, and presently: + </p> + <p> + “When I went in with Cohen,” continued Poland, “I knew one thing he didn't + know—a short cut into the warehouse. He's been playing pretty-like + with Lala, old Huang's daughter, and it's my belief that he knew where the + store was hidden; but he never told me. We knew there were special men on + duty, and we'd arranged that I was to give a signal when the patrol had + passed. Cohen all the time had planned to double on me. While I was + watching down on the Causeway end he climbed up and got in through the + skylight I'd shown him. When I got there he was missing, but the skylight + was open. I started off after him.” + </p> + <p> + Then Poland clutched me, and his fright was very real. + </p> + <p> + “I heard a shriek like nothing I ever heard in my life. I saw a light + shine through the trap, and then I heard a sort of moaning. Last, I heard + a bang, and the light went out. I staggered down the passage half silly, + started to run, and ran straight into the arms of two coppers.” + </p> + <p> + This evidence I thought was conclusive, and in accordance with your + instructions I proceeded to Mr. Isaacs in Dover Street. He didn't seem too + pleased at my suggestion, but when I pointed out to him that one good turn + deserved another, he agreed to give me an introduction to Huang Chow. + </p> + <p> + I adopted a very simple disguise, just altering my complexion and sticking + on a moustache with spirit gum, hair by hair, and trimming it down + military fashion. Everything ran smoothly, and I seemed to make a fairly + favourable impression upon Lala Huang, the Chinaman's daughter, who + evidently interviews prospective customers before they are admitted to the + warehouse. + </p> + <p> + She is a Eurasian and extremely good looking. But when I found myself in + the room where old Huang keeps his treasures, I really thought I was + dreaming. It's a collection that must be worth thousands. He showed me + snuff-bottles, cut out of gems, and with a little opening no bigger than + the hole in a pipe-stem, but with wonderful paintings done inside the + bottles. He'd got a model of a pagoda made out of human teeth, and a big + golden rug woven from the hair of Circassian slave girls. Excuse this, + Chief Inspector; I know it is what you call the romantic stuff; but I + think it would have impressed you if you had seen it. + </p> + <p> + Anyway, I bought a little enamelled box, in accordance with Mr. Isaacs's + instructions, although whether I succeeded in convincing Huang Chow that I + knew anything about the matter is more than doubtful. He got up from a + sort of throne he sits on, and led the way up a broad staircase to a + private room above. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, you have brought the cash, Mr. Hampden?” he said. + </p> + <p> + He speaks quite faultless English. He walked up three steps to a sort of + raised writing-table in this upstairs room, and I counted out the money to + him. When he sat at the table he faced toward the room, and I couldn't + help thinking that, in his horn-rimmed spectacles, he looked like some old + magistrate. He explained that he would pack the purchase for me, but that + I must personally take it away. And: + </p> + <p> + “You understand,” said he, “that you bought it from a gentleman who had + purchased it abroad.” + </p> + <p> + I said I quite understood. He bowed me out very politely, and presently I + found myself back in the office with Lala Huang. + </p> + <p> + She seemed quite disposed to talk, and I chatted with her while the box + was being packed for me to take away. I knew I must make good use of my + time, but you have never given me a job I liked less. I mean, there is + something very appealing about her, and I hated to think that I was + playing a double game. However, without actually agreeing to see me again, + she told me enough to enable me to meet her “accidentally,” if I wanted + to. Therefore, I am going to look out for her this evening, and probably + take her to a picture palace, or somewhere where we can have a quiet talk. + She seems to be fancy free, and for some reason I feel sorry for the girl. + I don't altogether like the job, but I hope to justify your faith in me, + Chief. + </p> + <p> + I will prepare my official report this evening when I return. + </p> + <p> + Yours obediently,—JOHN DURHAM. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <h3> + LALA HUANG + </h3> + <p> + “No,” said Lala Huang, “I don't like London—not this part of + London.” + </p> + <p> + “Where would you rather be?” asked Durham. “In China?” + </p> + <p> + Dusk had dropped its merciful curtain over Limehouse, and as the two paced + slowly along West India Dock Road it seemed to the detective that a sort + of glamour had crept into the scene. + </p> + <p> + He was a clever man within his limitations, and cultured up to a point; + but he was not philosopher enough to know that he viewed the purlieus of + Limehouse through a haze of Oriental mystery conjured up by the + conversation of his companion. Temple bells there were in the clangour of + the road cars. The smoke-stacks had a semblance of pagodas. Burma she had + conjured up before him, and China, and the soft islands where she had + first seen the light. For as well as a streak of European, there was + Kanaka blood in Lala, which lent her an appeal quite new to Durham, + insidious and therefore dangerous. + </p> + <p> + “Not China,” she replied. “Somehow I don't think I shall ever see China + again. But my father is rich, and it is dreadful to think that we live + here when there are so many more beautiful places to live in.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why does he stay?” asked Durham with curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “For money, always for money,” answered Lala, shrugging her shoulders. + “Yet if it is not to bring happiness, what good is it?” + </p> + <p> + “What good indeed?” murmured Durham. + </p> + <p> + “There is no fun for me,” said the girl pathetically. “Sometimes someone + nice comes to do business, but mostly they are Jews, Jews, always Jews, + and———” Again she shrugged eloquently. + </p> + <p> + Durham perceived the very opening for which he had been seeking.. + </p> + <p> + “You evidently don't like Jews,” he said endeavouring to speak lightly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” murmured the girl, “I don't think I do. Some are nice, though. I + think it is the same with every kind of people—there are good and + bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you ever in America?” asked Durham. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “I was just thinking,” he explained, “that I have known several American + Jews who were quite good fellows.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” said Lala, looking up at him naively, “I met one not long ago. He + was not nice at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Durham, startled by this admission, which he had not + anticipated. “One of your father's customers?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a man named Cohen.” + </p> + <p> + “Cohen?” + </p> + <p> + “A funny little chap,” continued the girl. “He tried to make love to me.” + She lowered her lashes roguishly. “I knew all along he was pretending. He + was a thief, I think. I was afraid of him.” + </p> + <p> + Durham did some rapid thinking, then: + </p> + <p> + “Did you say his name was Cohen?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “That was the name he gave.” + </p> + <p> + “A man named Cohen, an American, was found dead in the river quite + recently.” + </p> + <p> + Lala stopped dead and clutched his arm. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “There was a paragraph in this morning's paper.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated, then: + </p> + <p> + “Did it describe him?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Durham, “I don't think it did in detail. At least, the only + part of the description which I remember is that he wore a large and + valuable diamond on his left hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” whispered Lala. + </p> + <p> + She released her grip of Durham's arm and went on. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he asked. “Did you think it was someone you knew?” + </p> + <p> + “I did know him,” she replied simply. “The man who was found drowned. It + is the same. I am sure now, because of the diamond ring. What paper did + you read it in? I want to read it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I can't remember. It was probably the Daily Mail.” + </p> + <p> + “Had he been drowned?” + </p> + <p> + “I presume so—yes,” replied Durham guardedly. + </p> + <p> + Lala Huang was silent for some time while they paced on through the dusk. + Then: + </p> + <p> + “How strange!” she said in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry I mentioned it,” declared Durham. “But how was I to know it + was your friend?” + </p> + <p> + “He was no friend of mine,” returned the girl sharply. “I hated him. But + it is strange nevertheless. I am sure he intended to rob my father.” + </p> + <p> + “And is that why you think it strange?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, but her voice was almost inaudible. + </p> + <p> + They were come now to the narrow street communicating with the courtway in + which the great treasure-house of Huang Chow was situated, and Lala + stopped at the corner. + </p> + <p> + “It was nice of you to walk along with me,” she said. “Do you live in + Limehouse?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Durham, “I don't. As a matter of fact, I came down here + to-night in the hope of seeing you again.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” + </p> + <p> + The girl glanced up at him doubtfully, and his distaste for the task set + him by his superior increased with the passing of every moment. He was a + man of some imagination, a great reader, and ambitious professionally. He + appreciated the fact that Chief Inspector Kerry looked for great things + from him, but for this type of work he had little inclination. + </p> + <p> + There was too much chivalry in his make-up to enable him to play upon a + woman's sentiments, even in the interests of justice. By whatever means + the man Cohen had met his death, and whether or no the Chinaman Pi Lung + had died by the same hand, Lala Huang was innocent of any complicity in + these matters, he was perfectly well assured. + </p> + <p> + Doubts were to come later when he was away from her, when he had had + leisure to consider that she might regard him in the light of a third + potential rifler of her father's treasure-house. But at the moment, + looking down into her dark eyes, he reproached himself and wondered where + his true duty lay. + </p> + <p> + “It is so gray and dull and sordid here,” said the girl, looking down the + darkened street. “There is no one much to talk to.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have your business interests to keep you employed during the day, + after all.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate it all. I hate it all.” + </p> + <p> + “But you seem to have perfect freedom?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. My mother, you see, was not Chinese.” + </p> + <p> + “But you wish to leave Limehouse?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. I do. Just now it is not so bad, but in the winter how I tire of + the gray skies, the endless drizzling rain. Oh!” She shrank back into the + shadow of a doorway, clutching at Durham's arm. “Don't let Ah Fu see me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah Fu? Who is Ah Fu?” asked Durham, also drawing back as a furtive figure + went slinking down the opposite side of the street. + </p> + <p> + “My father's servant. He let you in this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “And why must he not see you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't trust him. I think he tells my father things.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it that he carries in his hand?” + </p> + <p> + “A birdcage, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “A birdcage?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + He caught the gleam of her eyes as she looked up at him out of the shadow. + </p> + <p> + “Is he, then, a bird-fancier?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I can't explain because I don't understand myself. But Ah Fu goes + to a place in Shadwell regularly and buys young birds, always very young + ones and very little ones.” + </p> + <p> + “For what or for whom?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you an aviary in your house?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that they disappear, these purchases of Ah Fu's?” + </p> + <p> + “I often see him carrying a cage of young birds, but we have no birds in + the house.” + </p> + <p> + “How perfectly extraordinary!” muttered Durham. + </p> + <p> + “I distrust Ah Fu,” whispered the girl. “I am glad he did not see me with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Young birds,” murmured Durham absently. “What kind of young birds? Any + particular breed?” + </p> + <p> + “No; canaries, linnets—all sorts. Isn't it funny?” The girl laughed + in a childish way. “And now I think Ah Fu will have gone in, so I must say + good night.” + </p> + <p> + But when presently Detective Durham found himself walking back along West + India Dock Road, his mind's eye was set upon the slinking figure of a + Chinaman carrying a birdcage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <h3> + A HINT OF INCENSE + </h3> + <p> + One Chinaman more or less does not make any very great difference to the + authorities responsible for maintaining law and order in Limehouse. + Asiatic settlers are at liberty to follow their national propensities, and + to knife one another within reason. This is wisdom. Such recreations are + allowed, if not encouraged, by all wise rulers of Eastern peoples. + </p> + <p> + “Found drowned,” too, is a verdict which has covered many a dark mystery + of old Thames, but “Found in the river, death having been due to the + action of some poison unknown,” is a finding which even in the case of a + Chinaman is calculated to stimulate the jaded official mind. + </p> + <p> + New Scotland Yard had given Durham a roving commission, and had been + justified in the fact that the second victim, and this time not a + Chinaman, had been found under almost identical conditions. The link with + the establishment of Huang Chow was incomplete, and Durham fully + recognized that it was up to him to make it sound and incontestable. + </p> + <p> + Jim Poland was not the only man in the East End who knew that the dead + Chinaman had been in negotiation with Huang Chow. Kerry knew it, and had + passed the information on to Durham. + </p> + <p> + Some mystery surrounded the life of the old dealer, who was said to be a + mandarin of high rank, but his exact association with the deaths first of + the Chinaman Pi Lung, and second of Cohen, remained to be proved. Certain + critics have declared the Metropolitan detective service to be obsolete + and inefficient. Kerry, as a potential superintendent, resented these + criticisms, and in his protege Durham, perceived a member of the new + generation who was likely in time to produce results calculated to remove + this stigma. + </p> + <p> + Durham recognized that a greater responsibility rested upon his shoulders + than the actual importance of the case might have indicated; and now, + proceeding warily along the deserted streets, he found his brain to be + extraordinarily active and his imagination very much alive. + </p> + <p> + There is a night life in Limehouse, as he had learned, but it is a mole + life, a subterranean life, of which no sign appears above ground after a + certain hour. Nevertheless, as he entered the area which harbours those + strange, hidden resorts the rumour of which has served to create the + glamour of Chinatown, he found himself to be thinking of the great + influence said to be wielded by Huang Chow, and wondering if unseen spies + watched his movements. + </p> + <p> + Lala was Oriental, and now, alone in the night, distrust leapt into being + within him. He had been attracted by her and had pitied her. He told + himself now that this was because of her dark beauty and the essentially + feminine appeal which she made. She was perhaps a vampire of the most + dangerous sort, one who lured men to strange deaths for some sinister + object beyond reach of a Western imagination. + </p> + <p> + He found himself doubting the success of those tactics upon which, earlier + in the day, he had congratulated himself. Perhaps beneath the guise of + Hampden, who bought antique furniture on commission, those cunning old + eyes beneath the horn-rimmed spectacles had perceived the detective + hidden, or at least had marked subterfuge. + </p> + <p> + While he could not count Lala a conquest—for he had not even + attempted to make love to her—the ease with which he had developed + the acquaintance now, afforded matter for suspicion. + </p> + <p> + At the entrance to the court communicating with the establishment of Huang + Chow he paused, looking cautiously about him. The men on the Limehouse + beats had been warned of the investigation afoot tonight, and there was a + plain-clothes man on point duty at no great distance away, although + carefully hidden, so that Durham had quite failed to detect his presence. + </p> + <p> + Durham wore rough clothes and rubber-soled shoes; and now, as he entered + the court, he was thinking of the official report of the police sergeant + who, not so many hours before, had paid a visit to the house of Huang Chow + in order to question him respecting his knowledge of the dead man Cohen, + and to learn when last he had seen him. + </p> + <p> + Old Huang, who had received his caller in the large room upstairs, the + room which boasted the presence of the writing-dais, had exhibited no + trace of confusion, assuring the sergeant that he had not seen the man + Cohen for several days. Cohen had come to him with an American + introduction, which he, Huang, believed to be forged, and had wanted him + to undertake a shady agency, respecting the details of which he remained + peculiarly reticent. In short, nothing had been gained by this official + interrogation, and Huang blandly denied any knowledge of an attempted + burglary of his establishment. + </p> + <p> + “What have I to lose?” he had asked the inquirer. “A lot of old lumber + which I have accumulated during many years, and a reputation for being + wealthy, due to my lonely habits and to the ignorance of those who live + around me.” + </p> + <p> + Durham, mentally reviewing the words of the report, reconstructed the + scene in his mind; and now, having come to the end of the lane where the + iron post rested, he stood staring up at a place in the ancient wall where + several bricks had decayed, and where it was possible, according to the + statement of the man Poland, to climb up on to a piece of sloping roof, + and thence gain the skylight through which Cohen had obtained admittance + on the night of his death. + </p> + <p> + He made sure that his automatic pistol was in his pocket, questioned the + dull sounds of the riverside for a moment, looking about him anxiously, + and then, using the leaning post as a stepping-stone, he succeeded in + wedging his foot into a crevice in the wall. By the exercise of some + agility he scrambled up to the top, and presently found himself lying upon + a sloping roof. + </p> + <p> + The skylight remained well out of reach, but his rubber-soled shoes + enabled him to creep up the slates until he could grasp the framework with + his hands. Presently he found himself perched upon the trap which, if his + information could be relied upon, possessed no fastener, or one so faulty + that the trap could be raised by means of a brad-awl. He carried one in + his pocket, and, screwing it into the framework, he lifted it cautiously, + making very little noise. + </p> + <p> + The trap opened, and up to his nostrils there stole a queer, indefinable + odour, partly that which belongs to old Oriental furniture and stuffs, but + having mingled with it a hint of incense and of something else not so + easily named. He recognized the smell of that strange store-room, which, + as Mr. Hampden, he had recently visited. + </p> + <p> + For one moment he thought he could detect the distant note of a bell. But, + listening, he heard nothing, and was reassured. + </p> + <p> + He rested the trap back against the frame, and shone the ray of an + electric torch down into the darkness beneath him. The light fell upon the + top of a low carven table, dragon-legged and gilded. Upon it rested the + model pagoda constructed of human teeth, and there was something in this + discovery which made Durham feel inclined to shudder. However, the impulse + was only a passing one. + </p> + <p> + He measured the distance with his eye. The little table stood beside a + deep divan, and he saw that with care it would be possible to drop upon + this divan without making much noise. He calculated its exact position + before replacing the torch in his pocket, and then, resting back against + one side of the frame, he clutched the other with his hands. He wriggled + gradually down until further purchase became impossible. He then let + himself drop, and swung for a moment by his hands before releasing his + hold. + </p> + <p> + He fell, as he had calculated, upon the divan. It creaked ominously. + Catching his foot in the cushions, he stumbled and lay forward for a + moment upon his face, listening intently. + </p> + <p> + The room was very hot but nothing stirred. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <h3> + THE SCUFFLING SOUND + </h3> + <p> + Detective Durham, as he lay there inhaling the peculiar perfume of the + place, recognized that he had put himself outside the pale of official + protection, and was become technically a burglar. + </p> + <p> + He wondered if Chief Inspector Kerry would have approved; but he had + outlined this plan of investigation for himself, and knew well that, if it + were crowned by success, the end would be regarded as having justified the + means. On the other hand, in the event of detention he must personally + bear the consequences of such irregular behaviour. He knew well, however, + that his celebrated superior had achieved promotion by methods at least as + irregular; and he knew that if he could but obtain evidence to account for + the death of the man Cohen, and of the Chinaman Pi Lung, who had preceded + him by the same mysterious path, the way of his obtaining it would not be + too closely questioned. + </p> + <p> + He was an ambitious man, and consequently one who took big chances. + Nothing disturbed the silence; he sat upon the divan and again pressed the + button of his torch, shining it all about the low-beamed apartment and + peering curiously into the weird shadows of the place. He calculated he + was now in the position which Cohen had occupied during the last moments + of his life, and a sense of the uncanny touched him coldly. + </p> + <p> + As he thought of the unnatural screams spoken of by Poland, some strange + instinct prompted him to curl up his feet upon the divan again, as though + a secret menace crawled upon the floor amid its many rugs and carpets. + </p> + <p> + He must now endeavour to reconstruct the plan upon which the American + cracksman had operated. Poland had a persistent belief that Cohen had + known where the fabled hoard of Huang Chow was concealed. + </p> + <p> + Durham began a deliberate inspection of the place. He thought it unlikely + that a wily old Chinaman, assuming that he possessed hidden wealth, would + keep it in so accessible a spot as this. It was far more probable that he + had a fireproof safe in the room upstairs, perhaps built into the wall. + Yet, according to Poland's account, it was in this room and not in any + other that death came to Diamond Fred. + </p> + <p> + The wall-hangings first engaged Durham's attention. He moved them aside + systematically, one after another, seeking for any hiding-place, but + failing to find one. The door communicating with the outer office he found + to be locked, but he did not believe for a moment that the office would be + worthy of inspection. + </p> + <p> + There were cases containing jewelled weapons and cups and goblets inlaid + with precious stones, but none of these seemed to have been tampered with, + and all were locked, as was the big cabinet filled with snuff bottles. + </p> + <p> + Many of the larger pieces about the place contained drawers and cupboards, + and these he systematically opened one after another, without making any + discovery of note. Some of the cupboards contained broken pieces of + crockery, and more or less damaged curios of one kind and another, but + none of them gave him the clue for which he was seeking. + </p> + <p> + He examined the couch upon which Huang Chow had been seated when first he + had met him, but although he searched it scientifically he was rewarded by + no discovery. + </p> + <p> + A very fusty and unpleasant smell was more noticeable at this point than + elsewhere in the room, and he found himself staring speculatively up the + wide, carpeted stairs. Next he turned his attention to the lacquered + coffin which occupied the corresponding recess to that filled by the + couch. It was an extraordinarily ornate piece of lacquer work and probably + of great value. + </p> + <p> + The lid appeared to be screwed on, and Durham stood staring at the thing, + half revolted and half fascinated. He failed to discover any means of + opening it, however, and when he tried to move it bodily found it very + heavy. He came to the conclusion that all the portable valuables were + contained in locked cases or cabinets, and out of this discovery grew an + idea. + </p> + <p> + The case containing the snuff bottles stood too close to the wall to + enable him to test his new theory, but a square case near the office door, + in which were five of six small but almost priceless pieces of porcelain, + afforded the very evidence for which he was looking. + </p> + <p> + Thin electric flex descended from somewhere inside the case down one of + the legs of the pedestal, and through a neatly drilled hole in the floor, + evidently placed there to accommodate it. + </p> + <p> + “Burglar alarm!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + The opening of this case, and doubtless of any of the others, would set + alarm bells ringing. This was not an unimportant discovery, but it brought + him very little nearer to a solution of the chief problem which engaged + his mind. Assuming that Cohen had opened one of the cases and had alarmed + old Huang Chow, what steps had the latter taken to deal with the intruder + which had resulted in so ghastly a death? And how had he disposed of the + body? + </p> + <p> + As Durham stood there musing and looking down through the plate-glass at + the delicate porcelain beneath, a faint sound intruded itself upon the + stillness. It gave him another idea. Part of the floor was stone-paved, + but part was wood. + </p> + <p> + Upon a portion of the latter, where no carpet rested, Durham dropped flat, + pressing his ear to the floor. + </p> + <p> + A faint swishing and trickling sound was perceptible from some place + beneath. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + Remembering that the premises almost overhung the Thames, he divined that + the cellars were flooded at high tide, or that there was some kind of + drain or cutting running underneath the house. + </p> + <p> + He stood up again, listening intently for any sound within the building. + He thought he had detected something, and now, as he stood there alert, he + heard it again—a faint scuffling, which might have been occasioned + by rats or even mice, but which, in some subtle and very unpleasant way, + did not suggest the movements of these familiar rodents. + </p> + <p> + Even as he perceived it, it ceased, leaving him wondering, and + uncomfortably conscious of a sudden dread of his surroundings. He wondered + in what part of this mysterious house Lala resided, and recognizing that + his departure must leave traces, he determined to prosecute his inquiries + as far as possible, since another opportunity might not arise. + </p> + <p> + He was baffled but still hopeful. Something there was in the smell of the + place which threatened to unnerve him; or perhaps in its silence, which + remained quite unbroken save when, by acute listening, one detected the + dripping of water. + </p> + <p> + That unexplained scuffling sound, too, which he had failed to trace or + identify, lingered in his memory insistently, and for some reason + contained the elements of fear. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the room and began softly to mount the stair. It creaked only + slightly, and the door at the top proved to be ajar. He peeped in, to find + the place empty. It was a typical Chinese apartment, containing very + little furniture, the raised desk being the most noticeable item, except + for a small shrine which faced it on the other side of the room. + </p> + <p> + He mounted the steps to the desk and inspected a number of loose papers + which lay upon it. Without exception they were written in Chinese. A sort + of large, dull white blotting-pad lay upon the table, but its surface was + smooth and glossy. + </p> + <p> + Over it was suspended what looked like a lampshade, but on inspection it + proved to contain no lamp, but to communicate, by a sort of funnel, with + the ceiling above. + </p> + <p> + At this contrivance Durham stared long and curiously, but without coming + to any conclusion respecting its purpose. He might have investigated + further, but he became aware of a dull and regular sound in the room + behind him. + </p> + <p> + He turned in a flash, staring in the direction of two curtains draped + before what he supposed to be a door. + </p> + <p> + On tiptoe he crossed and gently drew the curtains aside. + </p> + <p> + He looked into a small, cell-like room, lighted by one window, where upon + a low bed Huang Chow lay sleeping peacefully! + </p> + <p> + Durham almost held his breath; then, withdrawing as quietly as he had + approached, he descended the stair. At the foot his attention was again + arrested by the faint scuffling sound. It ceased as suddenly as it had + begun, leaving him wondering and conscious anew of a chill of + apprehension. + </p> + <p> + He had already made his plans for departure, but knew that they must leave + evidence, when discovered, of his visit. + </p> + <p> + A large and solid table stood near the divan, and he moved this + immediately under the trap. Upon it he laid a leopard-skin to deaden any + noise he might make, and then upon the leopard-skin he set a massive + chair: he replaced his torch in his pocket and drew himself up on to the + roof again. Reclosing the trap by means of the awl which he had screwed + into it, he removed the awl and placed it in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Then, sliding gently down the sloping roof, he dropped back into the + deserted court. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <h3> + A CAGE OF BIRDS + </h3> + <p> + “No,” said Lala, “we have never had robbers in the house.” She looked up + at Durham naively. “You are not a thief, are you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, I assure you I am not,” he answered, and felt himself flushing to the + roots of his hair. + </p> + <p> + They were seated in a teashop patronized by the workers of the district; + and as Durham, his elbows resting on the marble-topped table, looked into + the dark eyes of his companion, he told himself again that whatever might + be the secrets of old Huang Chow, his daughter did not share them. + </p> + <p> + The Chinaman had made no report to the authorities, although the piled up + furniture beneath the skylight must have afforded conclusive evidence that + a burglarious entry had been made into the premises. + </p> + <p> + “I should feel very nervous,” Durham declared, “with all those valuables + in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel nervous about my father,” the girl answered in a low voice. “His + room opens out of the warehouse, but mine is shut away in another part of + the building. And Ah Fu sleeps behind the office.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you not afraid when you suspected that Cohen was a burglar? You told + me yourself that you did suspect him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I spoke to my father about it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh”—she shrugged her shoulders—“he just smiled and told me + not to worry.” + </p> + <p> + “And that was the last you heard about the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, until you told me he was dead.” + </p> + <p> + Again he questioned the dark eyes and again was baffled. He felt tempted, + and not for the first time, to throw up the case. After all, it rested + upon very slender data—the mysterious death of a Chinaman whose + history was unknown and the story of a crook whose word was worth nothing. + </p> + <p> + Finally he asked himself, as he had asked himself before, what did it + matter? If old Huang Chow had disposed of these people in some strange + manner, they had sought to rob him. The morality of the case was + complicated and obscure, and more and more he was falling under the spell + of Lala's dark eyes. + </p> + <p> + But always it was his professional pride which came to the rescue. Murder + had been done, whether justifiably or otherwise, and to him had been + entrusted the discovery of the murderer. It seemed that failure was to be + his lot, for if Lala knew anything she was a most consummate actress, and + if she did not, his last hope of information was gone. + </p> + <p> + He would have liked nothing better than to be rid of the affair, provided + he could throw up the case with a clear conscience. But when presently he + parted from the attractive Eurasian, and watched her slim figure as, + turning, she waved her hand and disappeared round a corner, he knew that + rest was not for him. + </p> + <p> + He had discovered the emporium of a Shadwell live-stock dealer with whom + Ah Fu had a standing order for newly fledged birds of all descriptions. + Purchases apparently were always made after dusk, and Ah Fu with his + birdcage was due that evening. + </p> + <p> + A scheme having suggested itself to Durham, he now proceeded to put it + into execution, so that when dusk came, and Ah Fu, carrying an empty + birdcage, set out from the house of Huang Chow, a very dirty-looking + loafer passed the corner of the street at about the time that the Chinaman + came slinking out. + </p> + <p> + Durham had mentally calculated that Ah Fu would be gone about half an hour + upon his mysterious errand, but the Chinaman travelled faster than he had + calculated. + </p> + <p> + Just as he was about to climb up once more on to the sloping roof, he + heard the pattering footsteps returning to the courtyard, although rather + less than twenty minutes had elapsed since the man had set out. + </p> + <p> + Durham darted round the corner and waited until he heard the door closed; + then, returning, he scrambled up on to the roof, creeping forward until he + was lying looking down through the skylight into the darkened room below. + </p> + <p> + For ten minutes or more he waited, until he began to feel cramped and + uncomfortable. Then that happened which he had hoped and anticipated would + happen. The place beneath became illuminated, not fully, by means of the + hanging lamps, but dimly so that distorted shadows were cast about the + floor. Someone had entered carrying a lantern. + </p> + <p> + Durham's view-point limited his area of vision, but presently, as the + light came nearer and nearer, he discerned Ah Fu, carrying a lantern in + one hand and a birdcage in the other. He could hear nothing, for the trap + fitted well and the glass was thick. Moreover, it was very dirty. He was + afraid, however, to attempt to clean a space. + </p> + <p> + Ah Fu apparently had set the lantern upon a table, and into the radius of + its light there presently moved a stooping figure. Durham recognized Huang + Chow, and felt his heart beats increasing in rapidity. + </p> + <p> + Clutching the framework of the trap with his hands, he moved his head + cautiously, so that presently he was enabled to see the two Chinamen. They + were standing beside the lacquered coffin upon its dragon-legged pedestal. + Durham stifled an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + One end of the ornate sarcophagus had been opened in some way! + </p> + <p> + Now, to the watcher's unbounded astonishment, Ah Fu placed the birdcage in + the opening, and apparently reclosed the trap in the end of the coffin. He + made other manipulations with his bony yellow fingers, which Durham failed + to comprehend. Finally the birdcage was withdrawn again, and as it was + passed before the light of the lantern he saw that it was empty, whereas + previously it had contained a number of tiny birds all huddled up + together! + </p> + <p> + The light gleamed upon the spectacles of Huang Chow. Watching him, Durham + saw him take out from a hidden drawer in the pedestal a long, slender key, + insert it in a lock concealed by the ornate carving, and then slightly + raise the lid which had so recently defied his own efforts. + </p> + <p> + He raised it only a few inches, and then, taking up the lantern, peered + into the interior of the coffin, at the same time waving his hand in + dismissal to Ah Fu. For a while he stood there, peering into the interior, + and then, lowering the lid again, he relocked this gruesome receptacle + and, lantern in hand, began to mount the stair. + </p> + <p> + Durham inhaled deeply. He realized that during the last few seconds he had + been holding his breath. Now, as he began to creep back down the slope, he + discovered that his hands were shaking. + </p> + <p> + He dropped down into the court again, and for several minutes leaned + against the wall, endeavouring to reason out an explanation of what he had + seen, and in a measure to regain his composure. + </p> + <p> + There was a horror underlying it all which he was half afraid to face. But + the real clue to the mystery still eluded him. + </p> + <p> + Whether what he had witnessed were some kind of obscene ceremony, or + whether an explanation more vile must be sought, he remained undetermined. + He must repeat his exploit, if possible, and once more gain access to the + room which contained the lacquer coffin. + </p> + <p> + But the adventure was very distasteful. He recollected the smell of the + place, and the memory brought with it a sense of nausea. He thought of + Lala Huang, and his ideas became grotesque and chaotic. Yet the solution + of the mystery lay at last within his grasp, and to the zest of the + investigator everything else became subjugated. + </p> + <p> + He walked slowly away, silent in his rubber-soled shoes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <h3> + THE PICTURE ON THE PAD + </h3> + <p> + Lala Huang lay listening to the vague sounds which disturbed the silence + of the night. Presently her thoughts made her sigh wearily. During the + lifetime of her mother, who had died while Lala was yet a little girl, + life had been different and so much brighter. + </p> + <p> + She imagined that in the mingled sounds of dock and river which came to + her she could hear the roar of surf upon a golden beach. The stuffy air of + Limehouse took on the hot fragrance of a tropic island, and she sighed + again, but this time rapturously, for in spirit she was a child once more, + lulled by the voice of the great Pacific. + </p> + <p> + Young as she was, the death of her mother had been a blow from which it + had taken her several years to recover. Then had commenced those long + travels with her father, from port to port, from ocean to ocean, sometimes + settling awhile, but ever moving onward, onward. + </p> + <p> + He had had her educated after a fashion, and his love for her she did not + doubt. But her mother's blood spoke more strongly than that part of her + which was Chinese, and there was softness and a delicious languor in her + nature which her father did not seem to understand, and of which he did + not appear to approve. + </p> + <p> + She knew that he was wealthy. She knew that his ways were not straight + ways, although that part of his business to which he had admitted her as + an assistant, and an able one, was legitimate enough, or so it seemed. + </p> + <p> + Consignments of goods arrived at strange hours of the night at the + establishment in Limehouse, and from this side of her father's + transactions she was barred. The big double doors opening on the little + courtyard would be opened by Ah Fu, and packing cases of varying sizes be + taken in. Sometimes the sounds of these activities would reach her in her + room in a distant part of the house; but only in the morning would she + recognize their significance, when in the warehouse she would discover + that some new and choice pieces had arrived. + </p> + <p> + She wondered with what object her father accumulated wealth, and hoped, + against the promptings of her common sense, that he designed to return + East, there to seek a retirement amidst the familiar and the beautiful + things of the Orient which belonged to Lala's dream of heaven. + </p> + <p> + Stories about her father often reached her ears. She knew that he had held + high rank in China before she had been born; but that he had sacrificed + his rights in some way had always been her theory. She had been too young + to understand the stories which her mother had told her sometimes; but + that there were traits in the character of Huang Chow which it was not + good for his daughter to know she appreciated and accepted as a secret + sorrow. + </p> + <p> + He allowed her all the freedom to which her education entitled her. Her + life was that of a European and not of an Oriental woman. She loved him in + a way, but also feared him. She feared the dark and cruel side of his + character, of which, at various periods during their life together, she + had had terrifying glimpses. + </p> + <p> + She had decided that cruelty was his vice. In what way he gratified it she + had never learned, nor did she desire to do so. There were periodical + visits from the police, but she had learned long ago that her father was + too clever to place himself within reach of the law. + </p> + <p> + However crooked one part of his business methods might be, his dealings + with his clients were straight enough, so that no one had any object in + betraying him; and the legality or otherwise of his foreign relations + evidently afforded no case against him upon which the authorities could + act, or upon which they cared to act. + </p> + <p> + In America it had been graft which had protected him. She had learned this + accidentally, but never knew whether he bought his immunity in the same + way in London. + </p> + <p> + Some of the rumours which reached her were terrifying. Latterly she had + met many strange glances in her comings and goings about Limehouse. This + peculiar atmosphere had always preceded the break-up of every home which + they had shared. She divined the fact that in some way Huang Chow had + outstayed his welcome in Chinatown, London. Where their next resting-place + would be she could not imagine, but she prayed that it might be in some + more sunny clime. + </p> + <p> + She found herself to be thinking over much of John Hampden. His bona fides + were not above suspicion, but she could scarcely expect to meet a really + white man in such an environment. + </p> + <p> + Lala would have liked to think that he was white, but could not force + herself to do so. She would have liked to think that he sought her company + because she appealed to him personally; but she had detected the fact that + another motive underlay his attentions. She wondered if he could be + another of those moths drawn by the light of that fabled wealth of her + father. + </p> + <p> + It was curious, she reflected, that Huang Chow never checked—indeed, + openly countenanced—her friendship with the many chance + acquaintances she had made, even when her own instincts told her that the + men were crooked; so that, knowing the acumen of her father, she was well + aware that he must know it too. + </p> + <p> + Several of these pseudo lovers of hers had died. It was a point which + often occurred to her mind, but upon which she did not care to dwell even + now. But John Hampden—John Hampden was different. He was not wholly + sincere. She sighed wearily. But nevertheless he was not like some of the + others. + </p> + <p> + She started up in bed, seized with a sudden dreadful idea. He was a + detective! + </p> + <p> + She understood now why she had found so much that was white in him, but so + much that was false. His presence seemed to be very near her. Something + caressing in his voice echoed in her mind. She found herself to be + listening to the muted sounds of Limehouse and of the waterway which + flowed so close beside her. + </p> + <p> + That old longing for the home of her childhood returned tenfold, and tears + began to trickle down her cheeks. She was falling in love with this man + whose object was her father's ruin. A cold terror clutched at her heart. + Even now, while their friendship was so new, so strange, there was a + query, a stark, terrifying query, to stand up before her. + </p> + <p> + If put to the test, which would she choose? + </p> + <p> + She was unable to face that issue, and dropped back upon her pillow, + stifling a sob. + </p> + <p> + Yes, he was a detective. In some way her father had at last attracted the + serious attention of the law. Rumours of this were flying round Chinatown, + to which she had not been entirely deaf. She thought of a hundred + questions, a hundred silences, and grew more and more convinced of the + truth. + </p> + <p> + What did he mean to do? Before her a ghostly company uprose—the + shadows of some she had known with designs upon her father. John Hampden's + design was different. But might he not join that mysterious company? + </p> + <p> + Now again she suddenly sprang upright, this time because of a definite + sound which had reached her ears from within the house: a very faint, + bell-like tinkling which ceased almost immediately. She had heard it one + night before, and quite recently; indeed, on the night before she had met + John Hampden. Cohen—Cohen, the Jew, had died that night! + </p> + <p> + She sprang lightly on to the floor, found her slippers, and threw a silk + kimono over her nightrobe. She tiptoed cautiously to the door and opened + it. + </p> + <p> + It was at this very moment that old Huang Chow, asleep in his cell-like + apartment, was aroused by the tinkling of a bell set immediately above his + head. He awoke instantly, raised his hand and stopped the bell. His + expression, could anyone have been present to see it, was a thing + unpleasant to behold. Triumph was in it, and cunning cruelty. + </p> + <p> + His long yellow fingers reached out for his hornrimmed spectacles which + lay upon a little table beside him. Adjusting them, he pulled the curtains + aside and shuffled silently across the large room. + </p> + <p> + Mounting the steps to the raised writing-table, he rested his elbows upon + it, and peered down at that curious blotting-pad which had so provoked the + curiosity of Durham. Could Durham have seen it now the mystery must have + been solved. It was an ingenious camera obscura apparatus, and dimly + depicted upon its surface appeared a reproduction of part of the + storehouse beneath! The part of it which was visible was that touched by + the light of an electric torch, carried by a man crossing the floor in the + direction of the lacquered coffin upon the gilded pedestal! + </p> + <p> + Old Huang Chow chuckled silently, and his yellow fingers clutched the + table edge as he moved to peer more closely into the picture. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fool!” he whispered in Chinese. “Poor fool!” + </p> + <p> + It was the man who had come with the introduction from Mr. Isaacs—a + new impostor who sought to rob him, who sought to obtain information from + his daughter, who had examined his premises last night, and had even + penetrated upstairs, so that he, old Huang Chow, had been compelled to + disconnect the apparatus and to feign sleep under the scrutiny of the + intruder. + </p> + <p> + To-night it would be otherwise. To-night it would be otherwise. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <h3> + THE LACQUERED COFFIN + </h3> + <p> + Durham gently raised the trap in the roof of Huang Chow's treasure-house. + He was prepared for snares and pitfalls. No sane man, on the evidence + which he, Durham, had been compelled to leave behind, would have neglected + to fasten the skylight which so obviously afforded a means of entrance + into his premises. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, he was expected to return. The devilish mechanism was set ready + to receive him. But the artist within him demanded that he should unmask + the mystery with his own hands. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, he doubted that an official visit, even now, would yield any + results. Old Huang Chow was too cunning for that. If he was to learn how + the man Cohen had died, he must follow the same path to the bitter end. + But there were men on duty round the house, and he believed that he had + placed them so secretly as to deceive even this master of cunning with + whom he was dealing. + </p> + <p> + He repeated his exploit, dropping with a dull thud upon the cushioned + divan. Then, having lain there listening awhile, he pressed the button of + his torch, and, standing up, crept across the room in the direction of the + stairway. + </p> + <p> + Here he paused awhile, listening intently. The image of Lala Huang arose + before his mind's eye reproachfully, but he crushed the reproach, and + advanced until he stood beside the lacquered coffin. + </p> + <p> + He remembered where the key was hidden, and, stooping, he fumbled for a + while and then found it. He was acutely conscious of an unnameable fear. + He felt that he was watched, and yet was unwilling to believe it. The + musty and unpleasant smell which he had noticed before became extremely + perceptible. + </p> + <p> + He quietly sought for the hidden lock, and, presently finding it, inserted + the key, then paused awhile. He rested his torch upon the cushions of the + divan where the light shone directly upon the coffin. Then, having his + automatic in his left hand, he turned the key. + </p> + <p> + He had expected now to be able to raise the lid as he had seen Huang Chow + do; but the result was far more surprising. + </p> + <p> + The lid, together with a second framework of fine netting, flew open with + a resounding bang; and from the interior of the coffin uprose a most + abominable stench. + </p> + <p> + Durham started back a step, and as he did so witnessed a sight which + turned him sick with horror. + </p> + <p> + Out on to the edge of the coffin leapt the most gigantic spider which he + had ever seen in his life! It had a body as big as a man's fist, jet + black, with hairy legs like the legs of a crab and a span of a foot or + more! + </p> + <p> + A moment it poised there, while he swayed, sick with horror. Then, + unhesitatingly, it leapt for his face! + </p> + <p> + He groaned and fired, missed the horror, but diverted its leap, so that it + fell with a sickening thud a yard behind him. He turned, staggering back + towards the stair, and aware that a light had shone out from somewhere. + </p> + <p> + A door had been opened only a few yards from where he stood, and there, + framed in the opening, was Lala Huang, her eyes wide with terror and her + gaze set upon him across the room. + </p> + <p> + “You!” she whispered. “You!” + </p> + <p> + “Go back!” he cried hoarsely. “Go back! Close the door. You don't + understand—close the door!” + </p> + <p> + Her gaze set wildly upon him, Lala staggered forward; stopped dead; looked + down at her bare ankle, and then, seeing the thing which had fastened upon + her, uttered a piercing shriek which rang throughout the place. + </p> + <p> + At which moment the floor slid away beneath Durham, and he found himself + falling—falling—and then battling for life in evil-smelling + water, amidst absolute darkness. + </p> + <p> + Police whistles were skirling around the house of Huang Chow. As the + hidden men came running into the court: + </p> + <p> + “You heard the shot?” cried the sergeant in charge. “I warned him not to + go alone. Don't waste time on the door. One man stay on duty there; the + rest of you follow me.” + </p> + <p> + In a few moments, led by the sergeant, the party came dropping heavily + through the skylight into the treasure-house of Huang Chow, in which every + lamp was now alight. A trap was open near the foot of the stairs, and from + beneath it muffled cries proceeded. In this direction the sergeant headed. + Craning over the trap: + </p> + <p> + “Hallo, Mr. Durham!” he called. “Mr. Durham!” + </p> + <p> + “Get a rope and a ladder,” came a faint cry from below. “I can just touch + bottom with my feet and keep my head above water, but the tide's coming + in. Look to the girl, though, first. Look to the girl!” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant turned to where, stretched upon a tiger skin before a + half-open door, Lala Huang lay, scantily clothed and white as death. + </p> + <p> + Upon one of her bare ankles was a discoloured mark. + </p> + <p> + As the sergeant and another of the men stooped over her a moaning sound + drew their attention to the stair, and there, bent and tottering slowly + down, was old Huang Chow, his eyes peering through the owl-like glasses + vacantly across the room to where his daughter lay. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” whispered the sergeant, upon one knee beside her. He looked + blankly into the face of the other man. “She's dead!” + </p> + <p> + Two plain-clothes men were busy knotting together tapestries and pieces of + rare stuff with which to draw Durham out of the pit; but at these old + Huang Chow looked not at all, but gropingly crossed the room, as if he saw + imperfectly, or could not believe what he saw. At last he reached the side + of the dead girl, stooped, touched her, laid a trembling yellow hand over + her heart, and then stood up again, looking from face to face. + </p> + <p> + Ignoring the mingled activities about him, he crossed to the open coffin + and began to fumble amongst the putrefying mass of bones and webbing which + lay therein. Out from this he presently drew an iron coffer. + </p> + <p> + Carrying it across the room he opened the lid. It was full almost to the + top with uncut gems of every variety—diamonds, rubies, sapphires, + emeralds, topaz, amethysts, flashing greenly, redly, whitely. In handfuls + he grasped them and sprinkled them upon the body of the dead girl. + </p> + <p> + “For you,” he crooned brokenly in Chinese. “They were all for you!” + </p> + <p> + The extemporized rope had just been lowered to Durham, when: + </p> + <p> + “My God!” cried the sergeant, looking over Huang Chow's shoulder. “What's + that?” + </p> + <p> + He had seen the giant spider, the horror from Surinam, which the Chinaman + had reared and fed to guard his treasure and to gratify his lust for the + strange and cruel. The insect, like everything else in that house, was + unusual, almost unique. It was one of the Black Soldier spiders, by some + regarded as a native myth, but actually existing in Surinam and parts of + Brazil. A member of the family, Mygale, its sting was more quickly and + certainly fatal than that of a rattle-snake. Its instinct was fearlessly + to attack any creature, great or small, which disturbed it in its dark + hiding-place. + </p> + <p> + Now, with feverish, horrible rapidity it was racing up the tapestries on + the other side of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Merciful God!” groaned the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + Snatching a revolver from his pocket he fired shot after shot. The third + hit the thing but did not kill it. It dropped back upon the floor and + began to crawl toward the coffin. The sergeant ran across and at close + quarters shot it again. + </p> + <p> + Red blood oozed out from the hideous black body and began to form a deep + stain upon the carpet. + </p> + <p> + When Durham, drenched but unhurt, was hauled back into the treasure-house, + he did not speak, but, scrambling into the room stood—pallid—staring + dully at old Huang Chow. + </p> + <p> + Huang Chow, upon his knees beside his daughter, was engaged in sprinkling + priceless jewels over her still body, and murmuring in Chinese: + </p> + <p> + “For you, for you, Lala. They were all for you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + KERRY'S KID + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + RED KERRY ON DUTY + </h3> + <p> + Chief Inspector Kerry came down from the top of a motor-bus and stood on + the sidewalk for a while gazing to right and left along Piccadilly. The + night was humid and misty, now threatening fog and now rain. Many + travellers were abroad at this Christmas season, the pleasure seekers + easily to be distinguished from those whom business had detained in town, + and who hurried toward their various firesides. The theatres were + disgorging their audiences. Streams of lighted cars bore parties + supperward; less pretentious taxicabs formed links in the chain. + </p> + <p> + From the little huddled crowd of more economical theatre-goers who waited + at the stopping place of the motor-buses, Kerry detached himself, walking + slowly along westward and staring reflectively about him. Opposite the + corner of Bond Street he stood still, swinging his malacca cane and gazing + fixedly along this narrow bazaar street of the Baghdad of the West. His + trim, athletic figure was muffled in a big, double-breasted, woolly + overcoat, the collar turned up about his ears. His neat bowler hat was + tilted forward so as to shade the fierce blue eyes. Indeed, in that + imperfect light, little of the Chief Inspector's countenance was visible + except his large, gleaming white teeth, which he constantly revealed in + the act of industriously chewing mint gum. + </p> + <p> + He smiled as he chewed. Duty had called him out into the mist, and for + once he had obeyed reluctantly. That very afternoon had seen the return of + Dan Kerry, junior, home from school for the Christmas vacation, and Dan + was the apple of his father's eye. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Kerry had reserved her dour Scottish comments upon the boy's school + report for a more seemly occasion than the first day of his holidays; but + Kerry had made no attempt to conceal his jubilation—almost immoral, + his wife had declared it to be—respecting the lad's athletic record. + His work on the junior left wing had gained the commendation of a + celebrated international; and Kerry, who had interviewed the gymnasium + instructor, had learned that Dan Junior bade fair to become an amateur + boxer of distinction. + </p> + <p> + “He is faster on his feet than any boy I ever handled,” the expert had + declared. “He hasn't got the weight behind it yet, of course, but he's + developing a left that's going to make history. I'm of opinion that there + isn't a boy in the seniors can take him on, and I'll say that he's a + credit to you.” + </p> + <p> + Those words had fallen more sweetly upon the ears of Chief Inspector Kerry + than any encomium of the boy's learning could have done. On the purely + scholastic side his report was not a good one, admittedly. “But,” murmured + Kerry aloud, “he's going to be a man.” + </p> + <p> + He remembered that he had promised, despite the lateness of the hour, to + telephone the lad directly he had received a certain report, and to tell + him whether he might wait up for his return or whether he must turn in. + Kerry, stamping his small, neatly shod feet upon the pavement, smiled + agreeably. He was thinking of the telephone which recently he had had + installed in his house in Brixton. His wife had demanded this as a + Christmas box, pointing out how many uneasy hours she would be spared by + the installation. Kerry had consented cheerfully enough, for was he not + shortly to be promoted to the exalted post of a superintendent of the + Criminal Investigation Department? + </p> + <p> + These reflections were cheering and warming; and, waiting until a gap + occurred in the stream of cabs and cars, he crossed Piccadilly and + proceeded along Bond Street, swinging his shoulders in a manner which + would have enabled any constable in the force to recognize “Red Kerry” at + a hundred yards. + </p> + <p> + The fierce eyes scrutinized the occupants of all the lighted cars. At + pedestrians also he stared curiously, and at another smaller group of + travellers waiting for the buses on the left-hand side of the street he + looked hard and long. He pursued his way, acknowledged the salutation of a + porter who stood outside the entrance to the Embassy Club, and proceeded, + glancing about him right and left and with some evident and definite + purpose. + </p> + <p> + A constable standing at the corner of Conduit Street touched his helmet as + Kerry passed and the light of an arc-lamp revealed the fierce red face. + The Chief Inspector stopped, turned, and: + </p> + <p> + “What the devil's the idea?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + He snapped out the words in such fashion that the unfortunate constable + almost believed he could see sparks in the misty air. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, sir, but recognizing you suddenly like, I——” + </p> + <p> + “You did?” the fierce voice interrupted. “How long in the force?” + </p> + <p> + “Six months, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Never salute an officer in plain clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then tell me again.” + </p> + <p> + “I forgot.” + </p> + <p> + “You're paid to remember; bear it in mind.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry tucked his malacca under his arm and walked on, leaving the + unfortunate policeman literally stupefied by his first encounter with the + celebrated Chief Inspector. + </p> + <p> + Presently another line of cars proclaimed the entrance to a club, and just + before reaching the first of these Kerry paused. A man stood in a shadowy + doorway, and: + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, Chief Inspector,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, Durham. Anything to report?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Lou Chada is here again.” + </p> + <p> + “With whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Rourke.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry stepped to the edge of the pavement and spat out a piece of + chewing-gum. From his overcoat pocket he drew a fresh piece, tore off the + pink wrapping and placed the gum between his teeth. Then: + </p> + <p> + “How long?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Came to dinner. They are dancing.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm!” The Chief Inspector ranged himself beside the other detective in + the shadow of the doorway. “Something's brewing, Durham,” he said. “I + think I shall wait.” + </p> + <p> + His subordinate stared curiously but made no reply. He was not wholly in + his chief's confidence. He merely knew that the name of Lou Chada to Kerry + was like a red rag to a bull. The handsome, cultured young Eurasian, fresh + from a distinguished university career and pampered by a certain section + of smart society, did not conform to Detective Sergeant Durham's idea of a + suspect. He knew that Lou was the son of Zani Chada, and he knew that Zani + Chada was one of the wealthiest men in Limehouse. But Lou had an expensive + flat in George Street; Lou was courted by society butterflies, and in what + way he could be connected with the case known as “the Limehouse inquiry,” + Durham could not imagine. + </p> + <p> + That the open indiscretion of Lady “Pat” Rourke might lead to trouble with + her husband, was conceivable enough; but this was rather a matter for + underhand private inquiry than for the attention of the Criminal + Investigation Department of New Scotland Yard. + </p> + <p> + So mused Durham, standing cold and uncomfortable in the shadowy doorway, + and dreaming of a certain cosy fireside, a pair of carpet slippers and a + glass of hot toddy which awaited him. Suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “Great flames! Look!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Kerry's fingers closed, steely, upon Durham's wrist. A porter was urgently + moving the parked cars farther along the street to enable one, a French + coupe, to draw up before the club entrance. + </p> + <p> + Two men came out, supporting between them a woman who seemed to be ill; a + slender, blonde woman whose pretty face was pale and whose wide-open blue + eyes stared strangely straight before her. The taller of her escorts, + while continuing to support her, solicitously wrapped her fur cloak about + her bare shoulders; the other, the manager of the club, stepped forward + and opened the door of the car. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Rourke!” whispered Durham. + </p> + <p> + “With Lou Chada!” rapped Kerry. “Run for a cab. Brisk. Don't waste a + second.” + </p> + <p> + Some little conversation ensued between manager and patron, then the tall, + handsome Eurasian, waving his hand protestingly, removed his hat and + stepped into the coupe beside Lady Rourke. It immediately moved away in + the direction of Piccadilly. + </p> + <p> + One glimpse Kerry had of the pretty, fair head lying limply back against + the cushions. The manager of the club was staring after the car. + </p> + <p> + Kerry stepped out from his hiding place. Durham had disappeared, and there + was no cab in sight, but immediately beyond the illuminated entrance stood + a Rolls-Royce which had been fifth in the rank of parked cars before the + adjustment had been made to enable the coupe to reach the door. Kerry ran + across, and: + </p> + <p> + “Whose car, my lad?” he demanded of the chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + The latter, resenting the curt tone of the inquiry, looked the speaker up + and down, and: + </p> + <p> + “Captain. Egerton's,” he replied slowly. “But what business may it be of + yours?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Chief Inspector Kerry, of New Scotland Yard,” came the rapid reply. + “I want to follow the car that has just left.” + </p> + <p> + “What about running?” demanded the man insolently. + </p> + <p> + Kerry shot out a small, muscular hand and grasped the speaker's wrist. + </p> + <p> + “I'll say one thing to you,” he rapped. “I'm a police officer, and I + demand your help. Refuse it, and you'll wake up in Vine Street.” + </p> + <p> + The Chief Inspector was on the step now, bending forward so that his + fierce red face was but an inch removed from that of the startled + chauffeur. The quelling force of his ferocious personality achieved its + purpose, as it rarely failed to do. + </p> + <p> + “I'm getting in,” added the Chief Inspector, jumping back on to the + pavement. “Lose that French bus, and I'll charge you with resisting and + obstructing an officer of the law in the execution of his duty. Start.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry leaped in and banged the door—and the Rolls-Royce started. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + AT MALAY JACK'S + </h3> + <p> + When Kerry left Bond Street the mistiness of the night was developing into + definite fog. It varied in different districts. Thus, St. Paul's + Churchyard had been clear of it at a time when it had lain impenetrably in + Trafalgar Square. When, an hour and a half after setting out in the + commandeered Rolls-Royce, Kerry groped blindly along Limehouse Causeway, + it was through a yellow murk that he made his way—a vapour which + could not only be seen, smelled and felt, but tasted. + </p> + <p> + He was in one of his most violent humours. He found some slight solace in + the reflection that the impudent chauffeur, from whom he had parted in + West India Dock Road, must experience great difficulty in finding his way + back to the West End. + </p> + <p> + “Damn the fog!” he muttered, coughing irritably. + </p> + <p> + It had tricked him, this floating murk of London; for, while he had been + enabled to keep the coupe in view right to the fringe of dockland, here, + as if bred by old London's river, the fog had lain impenetrably. + </p> + <p> + Chief Inspector Kerry was a man who took many risks, but because of this + cursed fog he had no definite evidence that Chada's car had gone to a + certain house. Right of search he had not, and so temporarily he was + baffled. + </p> + <p> + Now the nearest telephone was his objective, and presently, where a blue + light dimly pierced the mist, he paused, pushed open a swing door, and + stepped into a long, narrow passage. He descended three stairs, and + entered a room laden with a sickly perfume compounded of stale beer and + spirits; of greasy humanity—European, Asiastic, and African; of + cheap tobacco and cheaper scents; and, vaguely, of opium. + </p> + <p> + It was fairly well lighted, but the fog had penetrated here, veiling some + of the harshness of its rough appointments. An unsavoury den was Malay + Jack's, where flotsam of the river might be found. Yellow men there were, + and black men and brown men. But all the women present were white. + </p> + <p> + Fan-tan was in progress at one of the tables, the four players being + apparently the only strictly sober people in the room. A woman was + laughing raucously as Kerry entered, and many coarse-voiced conversations + were in progress; but as he pulled the rough curtain walls aside and + walked into the room, a hush, highly complimentary to the Chief + Inspector's reputation, fell upon the assembly. Only the woman's raucous + laughter continued, rising, a hideous solo, above a sort of murmur, + composed of the words “Red Kerry!” spoken in many tones. + </p> + <p> + Kerry ignored the sensation which his entrance had created, and crossed + the room to a small counter, behind which a dusky man was standing, + coatless and shirt sleeves rolled up. He had the skin of a Malay but the + features of a stage Irishman of the old school. And, indeed, had he known + his own pedigree, which is a knowledge beyond the ken of any man, partly + Irish he might have found himself indeed to be. + </p> + <p> + This was Malay Jack, the proprietor of one of the roughest houses in + Limehouse. His expression, while propitiatory, was not friendly, but: + </p> + <p> + “Don't get hot and bothered,” snapped Kerry viciously. “I want to use your + telephone, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said the other, unable to conceal his relief, “that's easy. Come + in.” + </p> + <p> + He raised a flap in the counter, and Kerry, passing through, entered a + little room behind the bar. Here a telephone stood upon a dirty, littered + table, and, taking it up: + </p> + <p> + “City four hundred,” called the Chief Inspector curtly. A moment later: + “Hallo! Yes,” he said. “Chief Inspector Kerry speaking. Put me through to + my department, please.” + </p> + <p> + He stood for a while waiting, receiver in hand, and smiled grimly to note + that the uproar in the room beyond had been resumed. Evidently Malay Jack + had given the “all clear” signal. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Chief Inspector Kerry speaking,” he said again. “Has Detective Sergeant + Durham reported?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the reply, “half an hour ago. He's standing-by at Limehouse + Station. He followed you in a taxi, but lost you on the way owing to the + fog.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't wonder,” said Kerry. “His loss is not so great as mine. Anything + else?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. I'll speak to Limehouse. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + He replaced the receiver and paused for a moment, reflecting. Extracting a + piece of tasteless gum from between his teeth, he deposited it in the + grate, where a sickly fire burned; then, tearing the wrapper from a fresh + slip, he resumed his chewing and stood looking about him with unseeing + eyes. Fierce they were as ever, but introspective in expression. + </p> + <p> + Famous for his swift decisions, for once in a way he found himself in + doubt. Malay Jack had keen ears, and there were those in the place who had + every reason to be interested in the movements of a member of the Criminal + Investigation Department, especially of one who had earned the right to be + dreaded by the rats of Limehouse. London's peculiar climate fought against + him, but he determined to make no more telephone calls but to proceed to + Limehouse police station. + </p> + <p> + He stepped swiftly into the bar, and, as he had anticipated, nearly upset + the proprietor, who was standing listening by the half-open door. Kerry + smiled fiercely into the ugly face, lifted the flap, and walked down the + room, through the aisle between the scattered tables, where the air was + heavy with strange perfumes, touched now with the bite of London fog, and + where slanting eyes and straight eyes, sober eyes and drunken eyes, + regarded him furtively. Something of a second hush there was, but one not + so complete as the first. + </p> + <p> + Kerry pulled the curtain aside, mounted the stair, walked along the + passage and out through the swing door into the yellow gloom of the + Causeway. Ten slow steps he had taken when he detected a sound of pursuit. + Like a flash he turned, clenching his fists. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Inspector!” whispered a husky voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Who are you? What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + A dim form loomed up through the fog. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Peters, sir. Inspector Preston knows me.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry had paused immediately under a street lamp, and now he looked into + the pinched, lean face of the speaker, and: + </p> + <p> + “I've heard of you,” he snapped. “Got some information for me?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so; but walk on.” + </p> + <p> + Chief Inspector Kerry hesitated. Peters belonged to a class which Kerry + despised with all the force of his straightforward character. A + professional informer has his uses from the police point of view; and + while evidence of this kind often figured in reports made to the Chief + Inspector, he personally avoided contact with such persons, as he + instinctively and daintily avoided contact with personal dirt. But now, + something so big was at stake that his hesitation was only momentary. + </p> + <p> + A vision of the pale face of Lady Rourke, of the golden head leaning + weakly back upon the cushions of the coupe, as he had glimpsed it in Bond + Street, rose before his mind's eye as if conjured up out of the fog. + Peters shuffled along beside him, and: + </p> + <p> + “Young Chada's done himself in to-night,” continued the husky voice. “He + brought a swell girl to the old man's house an hour ago. I was hanging + about there, thinking I might get some information. I think she was + doped.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” snapped Kerry. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was standing over on the other side of the street. Lou Chada + opened the door with a key; and when the light shone out I saw him carry + her in.” + </p> + <p> + “Carry her in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She was in evening dress, with a swell cloak.” + </p> + <p> + “The car?” + </p> + <p> + “He came out again and drove it around to the garage at the back.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you report this at once?” + </p> + <p> + “I was on my way to do it when I saw you coming out of Malay Jack's.” + </p> + <p> + The man's voice shook nervously, and: + </p> + <p> + “What are you scared about?” asked Kerry savagely. “Got anything else to + tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” muttered Peters. “Only I've got an idea he saw me.” + </p> + <p> + “Who saw you?” + </p> + <p> + “Lou Chada.” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, only—don't leave me till we get to the station.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry blew down his nose contemptuously, then stopped suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Stand still,” he ordered. “I want to listen.” + </p> + <p> + Silent, they stood in a place of darkness, untouched by any lamplight. Not + a sound reached them through the curtain of fog. Asiatic mystery wrapped + them about, but Kerry experienced only contempt for the cowardice of his + companion, and: + </p> + <p> + “You need come no farther,” he said coldly. “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “But———” began the man. + </p> + <p> + “Good night,” repeated Kerry. + </p> + <p> + He walked on briskly, tapping the pavement with his malacca. The sneaking + figure of the informer was swallowed up in the fog. But not a dozen paces + had the Chief Inspector gone when he was arrested by a frenzied scream, + rising, hollowly, in a dreadful, muffled crescendo. Words reached him. + </p> + <p> + “My God, he's stabbed me!” + </p> + <p> + Then came a sort of babbling, which died into a moan. + </p> + <p> + “Hell!” muttered Kerry, “the poor devil was right!” + </p> + <p> + He turned and began to run back, fumbling in his pocket for his electric + torch. Almost in the same moment that he found it he stumbled upon Peters, + who lay half in the road and half upon the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + Kerry pressed the button, and met the glance of upturned, glazing eyes. + Even as he dropped upon his knee beside the dying man, Peters swept his + arm around in a convulsive movement, having the fingers crooked, coughed + horribly, and rolled upon his face. + </p> + <p> + Switching off the light of the torch, Kerry clenched his jaws in a tense + effort of listening, literally holding his breath. But no sound reached + him through the muffling fog. A moment he hesitated, well knowing his + danger, then viciously snapping on the light again, he quested in the + blood-stained mud all about the body of the murdered man. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + It was an exclamation of triumph. + </p> + <p> + One corner hideously stained, for it had lain half under Peters's + shoulder, Kerry gingerly lifted between finger and thumb a handkerchief of + fine white silk, such as is carried in the breast pocket of an evening + coat. + </p> + <p> + It bore an ornate monogram worked in gold, and representing the letters + “L. C.” Oddly enough, it was the corner that bore the monogram which was + also bloodstained. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <h3> + THE ROOM OF THE GOLDEN BUDDHA + </h3> + <p> + It was a moot point whether Lady Pat Rourke merited condemnation or pity. + She possessed that type of blonde beauty which seems to be a lodestone for + mankind in general. Her husband was wealthy, twelve years her senior, and, + far from watching over her with jealous care—an attitude which often + characterizes such unions—he, on the contrary, permitted her a + dangerous freedom, believing that she would appreciate without abusing it. + </p> + <p> + Her friendship with Lou Chada had first opened his eyes to the perils + which beset the road of least resistance. Sir Noel Rourke was an + Anglo-Indian, and his prejudice against the Eurasian was one not lightly + to be surmounted. Not all the polish which English culture had given to + this child of a mixed union could blind Sir Noel to the yellow streak. + Courted though Chada was by some of the best people, Sir Noel remained + cold. + </p> + <p> + The long, magnetic eyes, the handsome, clear-cut features, above all, that + slow and alluring smile, appealed to the husband of the wilful Pat rather + as evidences of Oriental, half-effeminate devilry than as passports to + decent society. Oxford had veneered him, but scratch the veneer and one + found the sandal-wood of the East, perfumed, seductive, appealing, but + something to be shunned as brittle and untrustworthy. + </p> + <p> + Yet he hesitated, seeking to be true to his convictions. Knowing what he + knew already, and what he suspected, it is certain that, could he have + viewed Lou Chada through the eyes of Chief Inspector Kerry, the affair + must have terminated otherwise. But Sir Noel did not know what Kerry knew. + And the pleasure-seeking Lady Rourke, with her hair of spun gold and her + provoking smile, found Lou Chada dangerously fascinating; almost she was + infatuated—she who had known so much admiration. + </p> + <p> + Of those joys for which thousands of her plainer sisters yearn and starve + to the end of their days she had experienced a surfeit. Always she sought + for novelty, for new adventures. She was confident of herself, but yet—and + here lay the delicious thrill—not wholly confident. Many times she + had promised to visit the house of Lou Chada's father—a mystery + palace cunningly painted, a perfumed page from the Arabian poets dropped + amid the interesting squalor of Limehouse. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps she had never intended to go. Who knows? But on the night when she + came within the ken of Chief Inspector Kerry, Lou Chada had urged her to + do so in his poetically passionate fashion, and, wanting to go, she had + asked herself: “Am I strong enough? Dare I?” + </p> + <p> + They had dined, danced, and she had smoked one of the scented cigarettes + which he alone seemed to be able to procure, and which, on their arrival + from the East, were contained in queer little polished wooden boxes. + </p> + <p> + Then had come an unfamiliar nausea and dizziness, an uncomfortable + recognition of the fact that she was making a fool of herself, and finally + a semi-darkness through which familiar faces loomed up and were quickly + lost again. There was the soft, musical voice of Lou Chada reassuring her, + a sense of chill, of helplessness, and then for a while an interval which + afterward she found herself unable to bridge. + </p> + <p> + Knowledge of verity came at last, and Lady Pat raised herself from the + divan upon which she had been lying, and, her slender hands clutching the + cushions, stared about her with eyes which ever grew wider. + </p> + <p> + She was in a long, rather lofty room, which was lighted by three silver + lanterns swung from the ceiling. The place, without containing much + furniture, was a riot of garish, barbaric colour. There were deep divans + cushioned in amber and blood-red. Upon the floor lay Persian carpets and + skins of beasts. Cunning niches there were, half concealing and half + revealing long-necked Chinese jars; and odd little carven tables bore + strangely fashioned vessels of silver. There was a cabinet of ebony inlaid + with jade, there were black tapestries figured with dragons of green and + gold. Curtains she saw of peacock-blue; and in a tall, narrow recess, + dominating the room, squatted a great golden Buddha. + </p> + <p> + The atmosphere was laden with a strange perfume. + </p> + <p> + But, above all, this room was silent, most oppressively silent. + </p> + <p> + Lady Pat started to her feet. The whole perfumed place seemed to be + swimming around her. Reclosing her eyes, she fought down her weakness. The + truth, the truth respecting Lou Chada and herself, had uprisen starkly + before her. By her own folly—and she could find no tiny excuse—she + had placed herself in the power of a man whom, instinctively, deep within + her soul, she had always known to be utterly unscrupulous. + </p> + <p> + How cleverly he had concealed the wild animal which dwelt beneath that + suave, polished exterior! Yet how ill he had concealed it! For intuitively + she had always recognized its presence, but had deliberately closed her + eyes, finding a joy in the secret knowledge of danger. Now at last he had + discarded pretense. + </p> + <p> + The cigarette which he had offered her at the club had been drugged. She + was in Limehouse, at the mercy of a man in whose veins ran the blood of + ancestors to whom women had been chattels. Too well she recognized that + his passion must have driven him insane, as he must know at what cost he + took such liberties with one who could not lightly be so treated. But + these reflections afforded poor consolation. It was not of the penalties + that Lou Chada must suffer for this infringement of Western codes, but of + the price that she must pay for her folly, of which Pat was thinking. + </p> + <p> + There was a nauseating taste upon her palate. She remembered having + noticed it faintly while she was smoking the cigarette; indeed, she had + commented upon it at the time. + </p> + <p> + “The dirty yellow blackguard!” she said aloud, and clenched her hands. + </p> + <p> + She merely echoed what many a man had said before her. She wondered at + herself, and in doing so but wondered at the mystery of womanhood. + </p> + <p> + Clarity was returning. The room no longer swam around her. She crossed in + the direction of a garish curtain, which instinctively she divined to mask + a door. Dragging it aside, she tried the handle, but the door was locked. + A second door she found, and this also proved to be locked. + </p> + <p> + There was one tall window, also covered by ornate draperies, but it was + shuttered, and the shutters had locks. Another small window she + discovered, glazed with amber glass, but set so high in the wall as to be + inaccessible. + </p> + <p> + Dread assailed her, and dropping on to one of the divans, she hid her face + in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” she whispered. “My God! Give me strength—give me courage.” + </p> + <p> + For a long time she remained there, listening for any sound which should + disperse the silence. She thought of her husband, of the sweet security of + her home, of the things which she had forfeited because of this mad quest + of adventure. And presently a key grated in a lock. + </p> + <p> + Lady Pat started to her feet with a wild, swift action which must have + reminded a beholder of a startled gazelle. The drapery masking the door + which she had first investigated was drawn aside. A man entered and + dropped the curtain behind him. + </p> + <p> + Exactly what she had expected she could not have defined, but the presence + of this perfect stranger was a complete surprise. The man, who wore + embroidered slippers and a sort of long blue robe, stood there regarding + her with an expression which, even in her frantic condition, she found to + be puzzling. He had long, untidy gray hair brushed back from his low brow; + eyes strangely like the eyes of Lou Chada, except that they were more + heavy-lidded; but his skin was as yellow as a guinea, and his gaunt, + cleanshaven face was the face of an Oriental. + </p> + <p> + The slender hands, too, which he held clasped before him, were yellow, and + possessed a curiously arresting quality. Pat imagined them clasped about + her white throat, and her very soul seemed to shrink from the man who + stood there looking at her with those long, magnetic, inscrutable eyes. + </p> + <p> + She wondered why she was surprised, and suddenly realized that it was + because of the expression in his eyes, for it was an expression of cold + anger. Then the intruder spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” he demanded, speaking with an accent which was unfamiliar + to her, but in a voice which was not unlike the voice of Lou Chada. “Who + brought you here?” + </p> + <p> + This was so wholly unexpected that for a moment she found herself unable + to reply, but finally: + </p> + <p> + “How dare you!” she cried, her native courage reasserting itself. “I have + been drugged and brought to this place. You shall pay for it. How dare + you!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” The long, dark eyes regarded her unmovingly. “But who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am Lady Rourke. Open the door. You shall bitterly regret this outrage.” + </p> + <p> + “You are Lady Rourke?” the man repeated. “Before you speak of regrets, + answer the question which I have asked: Who brought you here?” + </p> + <p> + “Lou Chada.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” There was no alteration of pose, no change of expression, but + slightly the intonation had varied. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know who you are, but I demand to be released from this place + instantly.” + </p> + <p> + The man standing before the curtained door slightly inclined his head. + </p> + <p> + “You shall be released,” he replied, “but not instantly. I will see the + one who brought you here. He may not be entirely to blame. Before you + leave we shall understand one another.” + </p> + <p> + Tone and glance were coldly angry. Then, before the frightened woman could + say another word, the man in the blue robe robe withdrew, the curtain was + dropped again, and she heard the grating of a key in the lock. She ran to + the door, beating upon it with her clenched hands. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go!” she cried, half hysterically. “Let me go! You shall pay for + this! Oh, you shall pay for this!” + </p> + <p> + No one answered, and, turning, she leaned back against the curtain, + breathing heavily and fighting for composure, for strength. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <h3> + ZANI CHADA, THE EURASIAN + </h3> + <p> + “I can't help thinking, Chief Inspector,” said the officer in charge at + Limehouse Station, “that you take unnecessary risks.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you?” said Kerry, tilting his bowler farther forward and staring + truculently at the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't. Since you cleaned up the dope gang down here you've been a + marked man. These murders in the Chinatown area, of which this one + to-night makes the third, have got some kind of big influence behind them. + Yet you wander about in the fog without even a gun in your pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe in guns,” rapped Kerry. “My bare hands are good enough + for any yellow smart in this area. And if they give out I can kick like a + mule.” + </p> + <p> + The other laughed, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + “It's silly, all the same,” he persisted. “The man who did the job out + there in the fog to-night might have knifed you or shot you long before + you could have got here.” + </p> + <p> + “He might,” snapped Kerry, “but he didn't.” + </p> + <p> + Yet, remembering his wife, who would be waiting for him in the cosy + sitting-room he knew a sudden pang. Perhaps he did take unnecessary + chances. Others had said so. Hard upon the thought came the memory of his + boy, and of the telephone message which the episodes of the night had + prevented him from sending. + </p> + <p> + He remembered, too, something which his fearless nature had prompted him + to forget: he remembered how, just as he had arisen from beside the body + of the murdered man, oblique eyes had regarded him swiftly out of the fog. + He had lashed out with a boxer's instinct, but his knuckles had + encountered nothing but empty air. No sound had come to tell him that the + thing had not been an illusion. Only, once again, as he groped his way + through the shuttered streets of Chinatown and the silence of the yellow + mist, something had prompted him to turn; and again he had detected the + glint of oblique eyes, and faintly had discerned the form of one who + followed him. + </p> + <p> + Kerry chewed viciously, then: + </p> + <p> + “I think I'll 'phone the wife,” he said abruptly. “She'll be expecting + me.” + </p> + <p> + Almost before he had finished speaking the 'phone bell rang, and a few + moments later: + </p> + <p> + “Someone to speak to you, Chief Inspector,” cried the officer in charge. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed Kerry, his fierce eyes lighting up. “That will be from + home.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so,” was the reply. “But see who it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he called. + </p> + <p> + He was answered by an unfamiliar voice, a voice which had a queer, + guttural intonation. It was the sort of voice he had learned to loathe. + </p> + <p> + “Is that Chief Inspector Kerry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he snapped. + </p> + <p> + “May I take it that what I have to say will be treated in confidence?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “Think again, Chief Inspector,” the voice continued. “You are a man within + sight of the ambition of years, and although you may be unaware of the + fact, you stand upon the edge of a disaster. I appreciate your sense of + duty and respect it. But there are times when diplomacy is a more potent + weapon than force.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry, listening, became aware that the speaker was a man of cultured + intellect. He wondered greatly, but: + </p> + <p> + “My time is valuable,” he said rapidly. “Come to the point. What do you + want and who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “One moment, Chief Inspector. An opportunity to make your fortune without + interfering with your career has come in your way. You have obtained + possession of what you believe to be a clue to a murder.” + </p> + <p> + The voice ceased, and Kerry remaining silent, immediately continued: + </p> + <p> + “Knowing your personal character, I doubt if you have communicated the + fact of your possessing this evidence to anyone else. I suggest, in your + own interests, that before doing so you interview me.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry thought rapidly, and then: + </p> + <p> + “I don't say you're right,” he rapped back. “But if I come to see you, I + shall leave a sealed statement in possession of the officer in charge + here.” + </p> + <p> + “To this I have no objection,” the guttural voice replied, “but I beg of + you to bring the evidence with you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not to be bought,” warned Kerry. “Don't think it and don't suggest + it, or when I get to you I'll break you in half.” + </p> + <p> + His red moustache positively bristled, and he clutched the receiver so + tightly that it quivered against his ear. + </p> + <p> + “You mistake me,” replied the speaker. “My name is Zani Chada. You know + where I live. I shall not detain you more than five minutes if you will do + me the honour of calling upon me.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry chewed furiously for ten momentous seconds, then: + </p> + <p> + “I'll come!” he said. + </p> + <p> + He replaced the receiver on the hook, and, walking across to the charge + desk, took an official form and a pen. On the back of the form he + scribbled rapidly, watched with curiosity by the officer in charge. + </p> + <p> + “Give me an envelope,” he directed. + </p> + <p> + An envelope was found and handed to him. He placed the paper in the + envelope, gummed down the lapel, and addressed it in large, bold writing + to the Assistant Commissioner of the Criminal Investigation Department, + who was his chief. Finally: + </p> + <p> + “I'm going out,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + “After what I've said?” + </p> + <p> + “After what you've said. I'm going out. If I don't come back or don't + telephone within the next hour, you will know what to do with this.” + </p> + <p> + The Limehouse official stared perplexedly. + </p> + <p> + “But meanwhile,” he protested, “what steps am I to take about the murder? + Durham will be back with the body at any moment now, and you say you've + got a clue to the murderer.” + </p> + <p> + “I have,” said Kerry, “but I'm going to get definite evidence. Do nothing + until you hear from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” answered the other, and Kerry, tucking his malacca cane under + his arm, strode out into the fog. + </p> + <p> + His knowledge of the Limehouse area was extensive and peculiar, so that + twenty minutes later, having made only one mistake in the darkness, he was + pressing an electric bell set beside a door which alone broke the expanse + of a long and dreary brick wall, lining a street which neither by day nor + night would have seemed inviting to the casual visitor. + </p> + <p> + The door was opened by a Chinaman wearing national dress, revealing a + small, square lobby, warmly lighted and furnished Orientally. Kerry + stepped in briskly. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see Mr. Zani Chada. Tell him I am here. Chief Inspector Kerry + is my name.” + </p> + <p> + The Chinaman bowed, crossed the lobby, and, drawing some curtains aside, + walked up four carpeted stairs and disappeared into a short passage + revealed by the raising of the tapestry. As he did so Kerry stared about + him curiously. + </p> + <p> + He had never before entered the mystery house of Zani Chada, nor had he + personally encountered the Eurasian, reputed to be a millionaire, but who + chose, for some obscure reason, to make his abode in this old rambling + building, once a country mansion, which to-day was closely invested by + dockland and the narrow alleys of Chinatown. It was curiously still in the + lobby, and, as he determined, curiously Eastern. He was conscious of a + sense of exhilaration. That Zani Chada controlled powerful influences, he + knew well. But, reviewing the precautions which he had taken, Kerry + determined that the trump card was in his possession. + </p> + <p> + The Chinese servant descended the stairs again and intimated that the + visitor should follow him. Kerry, carrying his hat and cane, mounted the + stairs, walked along the carpeted passage, and was ushered into a queer, + low room furnished as a library. + </p> + <p> + It was lined with shelves containing strange-looking books, none of which + appeared to be English. Upon the top of the shelves were grotesque figures + of gods, pieces of Chinese pottery and other Oriental ornaments. Arms + there were in the room, and rich carpets, carven furniture, and an air of + luxury peculiarly exotic. Furthermore, he detected a faint smell of opium + from which fact he divined that Zani Chada was addicted to the national + vice of China. + </p> + <p> + Seated before a long narrow table was the notorious Eurasian. The table + contained a number of strange and unfamiliar objects, as well as a small + rack of books. An opium pipe rested in a porcelain bowl. + </p> + <p> + Zani Chada, wearing a blue robe, sat in a cushioned chair, staring toward + the Chief Inspector. With one slender yellow hand he brushed his untidy + gray hair. His long magnetic eyes were half closed. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, Chief Inspector Kerry,” he said. “Won't you be seated?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, I'm not staying. I can hear what you've got to say standing.” + </p> + <p> + The long eyes grew a little more narrow—the only change of + expression that Zani Chada allowed himself. + </p> + <p> + “As you wish. I have no occasion to detain you long.” + </p> + <p> + In that queer, perfumed room, with the suggestion of something sinister + underlying its exotic luxury, arose a kind of astral clash as the powerful + personality of the Eurasian came in contact with that of Kerry. In a sense + it was a contest of rapier and battle-axe; an insidious but powerful will + enlisted against the bulldog force of the Chief Inspector. + </p> + <p> + Still through half-closed eyes Zani Chada watched his visitor, who stood, + feet apart and chin thrust forward aggressively, staring with wide open, + fierce blue eyes at the other. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to say one thing,” declared Kerry, snapping out the words in a + manner little short of ferocious. He laid his hat and cane upon a chair + and took a step in the direction of the narrow, laden table. “Make me any + kind of offer to buy back the evidence you think I've got, and I'll bash + your face as flat as a frying-pan.” + </p> + <p> + The yellow hands of Zani Chada clutched the metal knobs which ornamented + the arms of the chair in which he was seated. The long eyes now presented + the appearance of being entirely closed; otherwise he remained immovable. + </p> + <p> + Following a short, portentous silence: + </p> + <p> + “How grossly you misunderstood me, Chief Inspector,” Chada replied, + speaking very softly. “You are shortly to be promoted to a post which no + one is better fitted to occupy. You enjoy great domestic happiness, and + you possess a son in whom you repose great hopes. In this respect Chief + Inspector, I resemble you.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry's nostrils were widely dilated, but he did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” continued the Eurasian, “I know many things about you. Indeed, + I have watched your career with interest. Now, to be brief, a great + scandal may be averted and a woman's reputation preserved if you and I, as + men of the world, can succeed in understanding one another.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to understand you,” said Kerry bluntly. “But you've said + enough already to justify me in blowing this whistle.” He drew a police + whistle from his overcoat pocket. “This house is being watched.” + </p> + <p> + “I am aware of the fact,” murmured Zani Chada. + </p> + <p> + “There are two people in it I want for two different reasons. If you say + much more there may be three.” + </p> + <p> + Chada raised his hand slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Put back your whistle, Chief Inspector.” + </p> + <p> + There was a curious restraint in the Eurasian's manner which Kerry + distrusted, but for which at the time he was at a loss to account. Then + suddenly he determined that the man was waiting for something, listening + for some sound. As if to confirm this reasoning, just at that moment a + sound indeed broke the silence of the room. + </p> + <p> + Somewhere far away in the distance of the big house a gong was beaten + three times softly. Kerry's fierce glance searched the face of Zani Chada, + but it remained mask-like, immovable. Yet that this had been a signal of + some kind the Chief Inspector did not doubt, and: + </p> + <p> + “You can't trick me,” he said fiercely. “No one can leave this house + without my knowledge, and because of what happened out there in the fog my + hands are untied.” + </p> + <p> + He took up his hat and cane from the chair. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to search the premises,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + Zani Chada stood up slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Chief Inspector,” he said, “I advise you to do nothing until you have + consulted your wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Consulted my wife?” snapped Kerry. “What the devil do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that any steps you may take now can only lead to disaster for + many, and in your own case to great sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry took a step forward, two steps, then paused. He was considering + certain words which the Eurasian had spoken. Without fearing the man in + the physical sense, he was not fool enough to underestimate his + potentialities for evil and his power to strike darkly. + </p> + <p> + “Act as you please,” added Zani Chada, speaking even more softly. “But I + have not advised lightly. I will receive you, Chief Inspector, at any hour + of the night you care to return. By to-morrow, if you wish, you may be + independent of everybody.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry clenched his fists. + </p> + <p> + “And great sorrow may be spared to others,” concluded the Eurasian. + </p> + <p> + Kerry's teeth snapped together audibly; then, putting on his hat, he + turned and walked straight to the door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <h3> + DAN KERRY, JUNIOR + </h3> + <p> + Dan Kerry, junior, was humorously like his father, except that he was + larger-boned and promised to grow into a much bigger man. His hair was + uncompromisingly red, and grew in such irregular fashion that the comb was + not made which could subdue it. He had the wide-open, fighting blue eyes + of the Chief Inspector, and when he smiled the presence of two broken + teeth lent him a very pugilistic appearance. + </p> + <p> + On his advent at the school of which he was now one of the most popular + members, he had promptly been christened “Carrots.” To this nickname young + Kerry had always taken exception, and he proceeded to display his + prejudice on the first day of his arrival with such force and + determination that the sobriquet had been withdrawn by tacit consent of + every member of the form who hitherto had favoured it. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take you all on,” the new arrival had declared amidst a silence of + stupefaction, “starting with you”—pointing to the biggest boy. “If + we don't finish to-day, I'll begin again to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + The sheer impudence of the thing had astounded everybody. Young Kerry's + treatment of his leading persecutor had produced a salutary change of + opinion. Of such kidney was Daniel Kerry, junior; and when, some hours + after his father's departure on the night of the murder in the fog, the + 'phone bell rang, it was Dan junior, and not his mother, who answered the + call. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” said a voice. “Is that Chief Inspector Kerry's house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Dan. + </p> + <p> + “It has begun to rain in town,” the voice continued, “Is that the Chief + Inspector's son speaking?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm Daniel Kerry.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my boy, you know the way to New Scotland Yard?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather.” + </p> + <p> + “He says will you bring his overall? Do you know where to find it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” cried Dan excitedly, delighted to be thus made a party to his + father's activities. + </p> + <p> + “Well, get it. Jump on a tram at the Town Hall and bring the overall along + here. Your mother will not object, will she?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” cried Dan. “I'll tell her. Am I to start now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, right away.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Kerry was sewing by the fire in the dining room when her son came in + with the news, his blue eyes sparkling excitedly. She nodded her head + slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Ye'll want ye'r Burberry and ye'r thick boots,” she declared, “a muffler, + too, and ye'r oldest cap. I think it's madness for ye to go out on such a + night, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Father said I could,” protested the boy. + </p> + <p> + “He says so, and ye shall go, but I think it madness a' the same.” + </p> + <p> + However, some ten minutes later young Kerry set out, keenly resenting the + woollen muffler which he had been compelled to wear, and secretly + determined to remove it before mounting the tram. Across one arm he + carried the glistening overall which was the Chief Inspector's constant + companion on wet nights abroad. The fog had turned denser, and ten paces + from the door of the house took him out of sight of the light streaming + from the hallway. + </p> + <p> + Mary Kerry well knew her husband's theories about coddling boys, but even + so could not entirely reconcile herself to the present expedition. + However, closing the door, she returned philosophically to her sewing, + reflecting that little harm could come to Dan after all, for he was + strong, healthy, and intelligent. + </p> + <p> + On went the boy through the mist, whistling merrily. Not twenty yards from + the house a coupe was drawn up, and by the light of one of its lamps a man + was consulting a piece of paper on which, presumably, an address was + written; for, as the boy approached, the man turned, his collar pulled up + about his face, his hat pulled down. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” he called. “Can you please tell me something?” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with a curious accent, unfamiliar to the boy. “A foreigner of + some kind,” young Kerry determined. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked, pausing. + </p> + <p> + “Will you please read and tell me if I am near this place?” the man + continued, holding up the paper which he had been scrutinizing. + </p> + <p> + Dan stepped forward and bent over it. He could not make out the writing, + and bent yet more, holding it nearer to the lamp. At which moment some + second person neatly pinioned him from behind, a scarf was whipped about + his head, and, kicking furiously but otherwise helpless, he felt himself + lifted and placed inside the car. + </p> + <p> + The muffler had been thrown in such fashion about his face as to leave one + eye partly free, and as he was lifted he had a momentary glimpse of his + captors. With a thrill of real, sickly terror he realized that he was in + the hands of Chinamen! + </p> + <p> + Perhaps telepathically this spasm of fear was conveyed to his father, for + it was at about this time that the latter was interviewing Zani Chada, and + at about this time that Kerry recognized, underlying the other's words, at + once an ill-concealed suspense and a threat. Then, a few minutes later, + had come the three strokes of the gong; and again that unreasonable dread + had assailed him, perhaps because it signalized the capture of his son, + news of which had been immediately telephoned to Limehouse by Zani Chada's + orders. + </p> + <p> + Certain it is that Kerry left the Eurasian's house in a frame of mind + which was not familiar to him. He was undecided respecting his next move. + A deadly menace underlay Chada's words. + </p> + <p> + “Consult your wife,” he kept muttering to himself. When the door was + opened for him by the Chinese servant, he paused a moment before going out + into the fog. There were men on duty at the back and at the front of the + house. Should he risk all and raid the place? That Lady Rourke was captive + here he no longer doubted. But it was equally certain that no further harm + would come to her at the hands of her captors, since she had been traced + there and since Zani Chada was well aware of the fact. Of the whereabouts + of Lou Chada he could not be certain. If he was in the house, they had + him. + </p> + <p> + The door was closed by the Chinaman, and Kerry stood out in the darkness + of the dismal, brick-walled street, feeling something as nearly akin to + dejection as was possible in one of his mercurial spirit. Something + trickled upon the brim of his hat, and, raising his head, Kerry detected + rain upon his upturned face. He breathed a prayer of thankfulness. This + would put an end to the fog. + </p> + <p> + He began to walk along by the high brick wall, but had not proceeded far + before a muffled figure arose before him and the light of an electric + torch was shone into his face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you, Chief Inspector!” came the voice of the watcher. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” rapped Kerry. “Unless there are tunnels under this old rat-hole, + I take it the men on duty can cover all the exits?” + </p> + <p> + “All the main exits,” was the reply. “But, as you say, it's a strange + house, and Zani Chada has a stranger reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “Do nothing until you hear from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, Chief Inspector.” + </p> + <p> + The rain now was definitely conquering the fog, and in half the time which + had been occupied by the outward journey Kerry was back again in Limehouse + police station. Unconsciously he had been hastening his pace with every + stride, urged onward by an unaccountable anxiety, so that finally he + almost ran into the office and up to the desk where the telephone stood. + </p> + <p> + Lifting it, he called his own number and stood tapping his foot, + impatiently awaiting the reply. Presently came the voice of the operator: + “Have they answered yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “I will ring them again.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry's anxiety became acute, almost unendurable; and when at last, after + repeated attempts, no reply could be obtained from his home, he replaced + the receiver and leaned for a moment on the desk, shaken with such a storm + of apprehension as he had rarely known. He turned to the inspector in + charge, and: + </p> + <p> + “Let me have that envelope I left with you,” he directed. “And have + someone 'phone for a taxi; they are to keep on till they get one. Where is + Sergeant Durham?” + </p> + <p> + “At the mortuary.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Any developments, Chief Inspector?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But apart from keeping a close watch upon the house of Zani Chada + you are to do nothing until you hear from me again.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said the inspector. “Are you going to wait for Durham's + report?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Directly the cab arrives I am going to wait for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he paced up and down the room like a wild beast caged, while call + after call was sent to neighbouring cab ranks, for a long time without + result. What did it mean, his wife's failure to answer the telephone? It + might mean that neither she nor their one servant nor Dan was in the + house. And if they were not in the house at this hour of the night, where + could they possibly be? This it might mean, or—something worse. + </p> + <p> + A thousand and one possibilities, hideous, fantastic, appalling, flashed + through his mind. He was beginning to learn what Zani Chada had meant when + he had said: “I have followed your career with interest.” + </p> + <p> + At last a taxi was found, and the man instructed over the 'phone to + proceed immediately to Limehouse station. He seemed so long in coming that + when at last the cab was heard to pause outside, Kerry could not trust + himself to speak to the driver, but directed a sergeant to give him the + address. He entered silently and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + A steady drizzle of rain was falling. It had already dispersed the fog, so + that he might hope with luck to be home within the hour. As a matter of + fact, the man performed the journey in excellent time, but it seemed to + his passenger that he could have walked quicker, such was the gnawing + anxiety within him and the fear which prompted him to long for wings. + </p> + <p> + Instructing the cabman to wait, Kerry unlocked the front door and entered. + He had noted a light in the dining room window, and entering, he found his + wife awaiting him there. She rose as he entered, with horror in her comely + face. + </p> + <p> + “Dan!” she whispered. “Dan! where is ye'r mackintosh?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't take it,” he replied, endeavouring to tell himself that his + apprehensions had been groundless. “But how was it that you did not answer + the telephone?” + </p> + <p> + “What do ye mean, Dan?” Mary Kerry stared, her eyes growing wider and + wider. “The boy answered, Dan. He set out wi' ye'r mackintosh full an hour + and a half since.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + The truth leaped out at Kerry like an enemy out of ambush. + </p> + <p> + “Who sent that message?” + </p> + <p> + “Someone frae the Yard, to tell the boy to bring ye'r mackintosh alone at + once. Dan! Dan———” + </p> + <p> + She advanced, hands outstretched, quivering, but Kerry had leaped out into + the narrow hallway. He raised the telephone receiver, listened for a + moment, and then jerked it back upon the hook. + </p> + <p> + “Dead line!” he muttered. “Someone has been at work with a wire-cutter + outside the house!” + </p> + <p> + His wife came out to where he stood, and, clenching his teeth very grimly, + he took her in his arms. She was shaking as if palsied. + </p> + <p> + “Mary dear,” he said, “pray with all your might that I am given strength + to do my duty.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with haggard, tearless eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me the truth: ha' they got my boy?” + </p> + <p> + His fingers tightened on her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry,” he said, “and don't ask me to stay to explain. When I come + back I'll have Dan with me!” + </p> + <p> + He trusted himself no further, but, clapping his hat on his head, walked + out to the waiting cab. + </p> + <p> + “Back to Limehouse police station,” he directed rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “Lor lumme!” muttered the taximan. “Where are you goin' to after that, + guv'nor? It's a bit off the map.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to hell!” rapped Kerry, suddenly thrusting his red face very + near to that of the speaker. “And you're going to drive me!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <h3> + THE KNIGHT ERRANT + </h3> + <p> + Recognizing the superior strength of his captors, young Kerry soon gave up + struggling. The thrill of his first real adventure entered into his blood. + He remembered that he was the son of his father, and he realized, being a + quick-witted lad, that he was in the grip of enemies of his father. The + panic which had threatened him when first he had recognized that he was in + the hands of Chinese, gave place to a cold rage—a heritage which in + later years was to make him a dangerous man. + </p> + <p> + He lay quite passively in the grasp of someone who held him fast, and + learned, by breathing quietly, that the presence of the muffler about his + nose and mouth did not greatly inconvenience him. There was some desultory + conversation between the two men in the car, but it was carried on in an + odd, sibilant language which the boy did not understand, but which he + divined to be Chinese. He thought how every other boy in the school would + envy him, and the thought was stimulating, nerving. On the very first day + of his holidays he was become the central figure of a Chinatown drama. + </p> + <p> + The last traces of fear fled. His position was uncomfortable and his limbs + were cramped, but he resigned himself, with something almost like + gladness, and began to look forward to that which lay ahead with a zest + and a will to be no passive instrument which might have surprised his + captors could they have read the mind of their captive. + </p> + <p> + The journey seemed almost interminable, but young Kerry suffered it in + stoical silence until the car stopped and he was lifted and carried down + stone steps into some damp, earthy-smelling place. Some distance was + traversed, and then many flights of stairs were mounted, some bare but + others carpeted. + </p> + <p> + Finally he was deposited in a chair, and as he raised his hand to the + scarf, which toward the end of the journey had been bound more tightly + about his head so as to prevent him from seeing at all, he heard a door + closed and locked. + </p> + <p> + The scarf was quickly removed. And Dan found himself in a low-ceilinged + attic having a sloping roof and one shuttered window. A shadeless electric + lamp hung from the ceiling. Excepting the cane-seated chair in which he + had been deposited and a certain amount of nondescript lumber, the attic + was unfurnished. Dan rapidly considered what his father would have done in + the circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “Make sure that the door is locked,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + He tried it, and it was locked beyond any shadow of doubt. + </p> + <p> + “The window.” + </p> + <p> + Shutters covered it, and these were fastened with a padlock. + </p> + <p> + He considered this padlock attentively; then, drawing from his pocket one + of those wonderful knives which are really miniature tool-chests, he + raised from a grove the screw-driver which formed part of its equipment, + and with neatness and dispatch unscrewed the staple to which the padlock + was attached! + </p> + <p> + A moment later he had opened the shutters and was looking out into the + drizzle of the night. + </p> + <p> + The room in which he was confined was on the third floor of a dingy, + brick-built house; a portion of some other building faced him; down below + was a stone-paved courtyard. To the left stood a high wall, and beyond it + he obtained a glimpse of other dingy buildings. One lighted window was + visible—a square window in the opposite building, from which amber + light shone out. + </p> + <p> + Somewhere in the street beyond was a standard lamp. He could detect the + halo which it cast into the misty rain. The glass was very dirty, and + young Kerry raised the sash, admitting a draught of damp, cold air into + the room. He craned out, looking about him eagerly. + </p> + <p> + A rainwater-pipe was within reach of his hand on the right of the window + and, leaning out still farther, young Kerry saw that it passed beside two + other, larger, windows on the floor beneath him. Neither of these showed + any light. + </p> + <p> + Dizzy heights have no terror for healthy youth. The brackets supporting + the rain-pipe were a sufficient staircase for the agile Dan, a more + slippery prisoner than the famous Baron Trenck; and, discarding his + muffler and his Burberry, he climbed out upon the sill and felt with his + thick-soled boots for the first of these footholds. Clutching the ledge, + he lowered himself and felt for the next. + </p> + <p> + Then came the moment when he must trust all his weight to the pipe. + Clenching his teeth, he risked it, felt for and found the third angle, and + then, still clutching the pipe, stood for a moment upon the ledge of the + window immediately beneath him. He was curious respecting the lighted + window of the neighbouring house; and, twisting about, he bent, peering + across—and saw a sight which arrested his progress. + </p> + <p> + The room within was furnished in a way which made him gasp with + astonishment. It was like an Eastern picture, he thought. Her golden hair + dishevelled and her hands alternately clenching and unclenching, a woman + whom he considered to be most wonderfully dressed was pacing wildly up and + down, a look of such horror upon her pale face that Dan's heart seemed to + stop beating for a moment! + </p> + <p> + Here was real trouble of a sort which appealed to all the chivalry in the + boy's nature. He considered the window, which was glazed with + amber-coloured glass, observed that it was sufficiently open to enable him + to slip the fastening and open it entirely could he but reach it. And—yes!—there + was a rain-pipe! + </p> + <p> + Climbing down to the yard, he looked quickly about him, ran across, and + climbed up to the lighted window. A moment later he had pushed it widely + open. + </p> + <p> + He was greeted by a stifled cry, but, cautiously transferring his weight + from the friendly pipe to the ledge, he got astride of it, one foot in the + room. Then, by exercise of a monkey-like agility, he wriggled his head and + shoulders within. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” he said softly and reassuringly; “I'm Dan Kerry, son of + Chief Inspector Kerry. Can I be of any assistance?” + </p> + <p> + Her hands clasped convulsively together, the woman stood looking up at + him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank God!” said the captive. “But what are you going to do? Can you + get me out?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry,” replied Dan confidently. “Father and I can manage it all + right!” + </p> + <p> + He performed a singular contortion, as a result of which his other leg and + foot appeared inside the window. Then, twisting around, he lowered himself + and dropped triumphantly upon a cushioned divan. At that moment he would + have faced a cage full of man-eating tigers. The spirit of adventure had + him in its grip. He stood up, breathing rapidly, his crop of red hair more + dishevelled than usual. + </p> + <p> + Then, before he could stir or utter any protest, the golden-haired + princess whom he had come to rescue stooped, threw her arms around his + neck, and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “You darling, brave boy!” she said. “I think you have saved me from + madness.” + </p> + <p> + Young Kerry, more flushed than ever, extricated himself, and: + </p> + <p> + “You're not out of the mess yet,” he protested. “The only difference is + that I'm in it with you!” + </p> + <p> + “But where is your father?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm looking for him.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! he's about somewhere,” Dan assured her confidently. + </p> + <p> + “But, but——” She was gazing at him wide-eyed, “Didn't he send + you here?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet he didn't,” returned young Kerry. “I came here on my own accord, + and when I go you're coming with me. I can't make out how you got here, + anyway. Do you know whose house this is?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I do, I do!” + </p> + <p> + “Whose?” + </p> + <p> + “It belongs to a man called Chada.” + </p> + <p> + “Chada? Never heard of him. But I mean, what part of London is it in?” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever do you mean? It is in Limehouse, I believe. I don't understand. + You came here.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't,” said young Kerry cheerfully; “I was fetched!” + </p> + <p> + “By your father?” + </p> + <p> + “Not on your life. By a couple of Chinks! I'll tell you something.” He + raised his twinkling blue eyes. “We are properly up against it. I suppose + you couldn't climb down a rain-pipe?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <h3> + RETRIBUTION + </h3> + <p> + It was that dark, still, depressing hour of the night, when all life is at + its lowest ebb. In the low, strangely perfumed room of books Zani Chada + sat before his table, his yellow hands clutching the knobs on his chair + arms, his long, inscrutable eyes staring unseeingly before him. + </p> + <p> + Came a disturbance and the sound of voices, and Lou Chada, his son, stood + at the doorway. He still wore his evening clothes, but he no longer looked + smart. His glossy black hair was dishevelled, and his handsome, olive face + bore a hunted look. Panic was betoken by twitching mouth and fear-bright + eyes. He stopped, glaring at his father, and: + </p> + <p> + “Why are you not gone?” asked the latter sternly. “Do you wish to wreck me + as well as yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “The police have posted a man opposite Kwee's house. I cannot get out that + way.” + </p> + <p> + “There was no one there when the boy was brought in.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but there is now. Father!” He took a step forward. “I'm trapped. They + sha'n't take me. You won't let them take me?” + </p> + <p> + Zani Chada stirred not a muscle, but: + </p> + <p> + “To-night,” he said, “your mad passion has brought ruin to both of us. For + the sake of a golden doll who is not worth the price of the jewels she + wears, you have placed yourself within reach of the hangman.” + </p> + <p> + “I was mad, I was mad,” groaned the other. + </p> + <p> + “But I, who was sane, am involved in the consequences,” retorted his + father. + </p> + <p> + “He will be silent at the price of the boy's life.” + </p> + <p> + “He may be,” returned Zani Chada. “I hate him, but he is a man. Had you + escaped, he might have consented to be silent. Once you are arrested, + nothing would silence him.” + </p> + <p> + “If the case is tried it will ruin Pat's reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity!” said Zani Chada. + </p> + <p> + In some distant part of the house a gong was struck three times. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” commanded his father. “Remain at Kwee's house until I send for you. + Let Ah Fang go to the room above and see that the woman is silent. An + outcry would ruin our last chance.” + </p> + <p> + Lou Chada raised his hands, brushing the hair back from his wet forehead, + then, staring haggardly at his father, turned and ran from the room. + </p> + <p> + A minute later Kerry was ushered in by the Chinese servant. The savage + face was set like a mask. Without removing his hat, he strode across to + the table and bent down so that fierce, wide-open blue eyes stared closely + into long, half-closed black ones. + </p> + <p> + “I've got one thing to say,” explained Kerry huskily. “Whatever the + hangman may do to your slimy son, and whatever happens to the little + blonde fool he kidnapped, if you've laid a hand on my kid I'll kick you to + death, if I follow you round the world to do it.” + </p> + <p> + Zani Chada made no reply, but his knuckles gleamed, so tightly did he + clutch the knobs on the chair arms. Kerry's savagery would have awed any + man, even though he had supposed it to be the idle threat of a passionate + man. But Zani Chada knew all men, and he knew this one. When Daniel Kerry + declared that in given circumstances he would kick Zani Chada to death, he + did not mean that he would shoot him, strangle him, or even beat him with + his fists; he meant precisely what he said—that he would kick him to + death—and Zani Chada knew it. + </p> + <p> + Thus there were some moments of tense silence during which the savage face + of the Chief Inspector drew even closer to the gaunt, yellow face of the + Eurasian. Finally: + </p> + <p> + “Listen only for one moment,” said Zani Chada. His voice had lost its + guttural intonation. He spoke softly, sibilantly. “I, too, am a father———” + </p> + <p> + “Don't mince words!” shouted Kerry. “You've kidnapped my boy. If I have to + tear your house down brick by brick I'll find him. And if you've hurt one + hair of his head—you know what to expect!” + </p> + <p> + He quivered. The effort of suppression which he had imposed upon himself + was frightful to witness. Zani Chada, student of men, knew that in despite + of his own physical strength and of the hidden resources at his beck, he + stood nearer to primitive retribution than he had ever done. Yet: + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” he continued. “But you do not understand. Your boy is not + in this house. Oh! violence cannot avail! It can only make his loss + irreparable.” + </p> + <p> + Kerry, nostrils distended, eyes glaring madly, bent over him. + </p> + <p> + “Your scallywag of a son,” he said hoarsely, “has gone one step too far. + His adventures have twice before ended in murder—and you have + covered him. This time you can't do it. I'm not to be bought. We've stood + for the Far East in London long enough. Your cub hangs this time. Get me? + There'll be no bargaining. The woman's reputation won't stop me. My kid's + danger won't stop me. But if you try to use him as a lever I'll boot you + to your stinking yellow paradise and they'll check you in as pulp.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak of three deaths,” murmured Zani Chada. + </p> + <p> + Kerry clenched his teeth so tightly that his maxillary muscles protruded + to an abnormal degree. He thrust his clenched fists into his coat pockets. + </p> + <p> + “We all follow our vocations in life,” resumed the Eurasian, “to the best + of our abilities. But is professional kudos not too dearly bought at the + price of a loved one lost for ever? A far better bargain would be, shall + we say, ten thousand pounds, as the price of a silk handkerchief———” + </p> + <p> + Kerry's fierce blue eyes closed for a fraction of a second. Yet, in that + fraction of a second, he had visualized some of the things which ten + thousand pounds—a sum he could never hope to possess—would + buy. He had seen his home, as he would have it—and he had seen Dan + there, safe and happy at his mother's side. Was he entitled to disregard + the happiness of his wife, the life of his boy, the honourable name of Sir + Noel Rourke, because an outcast like Peters had come to a fitting end—because + a treacherous Malay and a renegade Chinaman had, earlier, gone the same + way, sped, as he suspected, by the same hand? + </p> + <p> + “My resources are unusual,” added Chada, speaking almost in a whisper. “I + have cash to this amount in my safe———” + </p> + <p> + So far he had proceeded when he was interrupted; and the cause of the + interruption was this: + </p> + <p> + A few moments earlier another dramatic encounter had taken place in a + distant part of the house. Kerry Junior, having scientifically tested all + the possible modes of egress from the room in which Lady Pat was confined, + had long ago desisted, and had exhausted his ingenuity in plans which + discussion had proved to be useless. In spite of the novelty and the + danger of his situation, nature was urging her laws. He was growing + sleepy. The crowning tragedy had been the discovery that he could not + regain the small, square window set high in the wall from which he had + dropped into this luxurious prison. Now, as the two sat side by side upon + a cushioned divan, the woman's arm about the boy's shoulders, they were + startled to hear, in the depths of the house, three notes of a gong. + </p> + <p> + Young Kerry's sleepiness departed. He leapt to his feet as though + electrified. + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” + </p> + <p> + There was something horrifying in those gong notes in the stillness of the + night. Lady Pat's beautiful eyes grew glassy with fear. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” replied Dan. “It seemed to come from below.” + </p> + <p> + He ran to the door, drew the curtain aside, and pressed his ear against + one of the panels, listening intently. As he did so, his attitude grew + tense, his expression changed, then: + </p> + <p> + “We're saved!” he cried, turning a radiant face to the woman. “I heard my + father's voice!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, are you sure, are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely sure!” + </p> + <p> + He bent to press his ear to the panel again, when a stifled cry from his + companion brought him swiftly to his feet. The second door in the room had + opened silently, and a small Chinaman, who carried himself with a stoop, + had entered, and now, a menacing expression upon his face, was quickly + approaching the boy. + </p> + <p> + What he had meant to do for ever remained in doubt, for young Kerry, + knowing his father to be in the house and seeing an open door before him, + took matters into his own hands. At the moment that the silent Chinaman + was about to throw his arms about him, the pride of the junior school + registered a most surprising left accurately on the point of Ah Fang's + jaw, following it up by a wilful transgression of Queensberry rules in the + form of a stomach punch which temporarily decided the issue. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Quick! quick!” he cried breathlessly, grasping Lady Pat's hand. “This is + where we run!” + </p> + <p> + In such fashion was Zani Chada interrupted, the interruption taking the + form of a sudden, shrill outcry: + </p> + <p> + “Dad! dad! Where are you, dad?” + </p> + <p> + Kerry spun about as a man galvanized. His face became transfigured. + </p> + <p> + “This way, Dan!” he cried. “This way, boy!” + </p> + <p> + Came a clatter of hurrying feet, and into the low, perfumed room burst Dan + Kerry, junior, tightly clasping the hand of a pale-faced, dishevelled + woman in evening dress. It was Lady Rourke; and although she seemed to be + in a nearly fainting condition, Dan dragged her, half running, into the + room. + </p> + <p> + Kerry gave one glance at the pair, then, instantly, he turned to face Zani + Chada. The latter, like a man of stone, sat in his carved chair, eyes + nearly closed. The Chief Inspector whipped out a whistle and raised it to + his lips. He blew three blasts upon it. + </p> + <p> + From one—two—three—four points around the house the + signal was answered. + </p> + <p> + Zani Chada fully opened his long, basilisk eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You win, Chief Inspector,” he said. “But much may be done by clever + counsel. If all fails———” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” rapped Kerry fiercely, at the same time throwing his arm around + the boy. + </p> + <p> + “I may continue to take an interest in your affairs.” + </p> + <p> + A tremendous uproar arose, within and without the house. The police were + raiding the place. Lady Rourke sank down, slowly, almost at the Eurasian's + feet. + </p> + <p> + But Chief Inspector Kerry experienced an unfamiliar chill as his + uncompromising stare met the cold hatred which blazed out of the black + eyes, narrowed, now, and serpentine, of Zani Chada. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PIGTAIL OF HI WING HO + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + HOW I OBTAINED IT + </h3> + <p> + Leaving the dock gates behind me I tramped through the steady drizzle, + going parallel with the river and making for the Chinese quarter. The hour + was about half-past eleven on one of those September nights when, in such + a locality as this, a stifling quality seems to enter the atmosphere, + rendering it all but unbreathable. A mist floated over the river, and it + was difficult to say if the rain was still falling, indeed, or if the + ample moisture upon my garments was traceable only to the fog. Sounds were + muffled, lights dimmed, and the frequent hooting of sirens from the river + added another touch of weirdness to the scene. + </p> + <p> + Even when the peculiar duties of my friend, Paul Harley, called him away + from England, the lure of this miniature Orient which I had first explored + under his guidance, often called me from my chambers. In the house with + the two doors in Wade Street, Limehouse, I would discard the armour of + respectability, and, dressed in a manner unlikely to provoke comment in + dockland, would haunt those dreary ways sometimes from midnight until + close upon dawn. Yet, well as I knew the district and the strange and + often dangerous creatures lurking in its many burrows, I experienced a + chill partly physical and partly of apprehension to-night; indeed, strange + though it may sound, I hastened my footsteps in order the sooner to reach + the low den for which I was bound—Malay Jack's—a spot marked + plainly on the crimes-map and which few respectable travellers would have + regarded as a haven of refuge. + </p> + <p> + But the chill of the adjacent river, and some quality of utter desolation + which seemed to emanate from the deserted wharves and ramshackle buildings + about me, were driving me thither now; for I knew that human + companionship, of a sort, and a glass of good liquor—from a store + which the Customs would have been happy to locate—awaited me there. + I might chance, too, upon Durham or Wessex, of New Scotland Yard, both + good friends of mine, or even upon the Terror of Chinatown, Chief + Inspector Kerry, a man for whom I had an esteem which none of his + ungracious manners could diminish. + </p> + <p> + I was just about to turn to the right into a narrow and nameless alley, + lying at right angles to the Thames, when I pulled up sharply, clenching + my fists and listening. + </p> + <p> + A confused and continuous sound, not unlike that which might be occasioned + by several large and savage hounds at close grips, was proceeding out of + the darkness ahead of me; a worrying, growling, and scuffling which + presently I identified as human, although in fact it was animal enough. A + moment I hesitated, then, distinguishing among the sounds of conflict an + unmistakable, though subdued, cry for help, I leaped forward and found + myself in the midst of the melee. This was taking place in the lee of a + high, dilapidated brick wall. A lamp in a sort of iron bracket spluttered + dimly above on the right, but the scene of the conflict lay in densest + shadow, so that the figures were indistinguishable. + </p> + <p> + “Help! By Gawd! they're strangling me———” + </p> + <p> + From almost at my feet the cry arose and was drowned in Chinese + chattering. But guided by it I now managed to make out that the struggle + in progress waged between a burly English sailorman and two lithe Chinese. + The yellow men seemed to have gained the advantage and my course was + clear. + </p> + <p> + A straight right on the jaw of the Chinaman who was engaged in + endeavouring to throttle the victim laid him prone in the dirty roadway. + His companion, who was holding the wrist of the recumbent man, sprang + upright as though propelled by a spring. I struck out at him savagely. He + uttered a shrill scream not unlike that of a stricken hare, and fled so + rapidly that he seemed to melt in the mist. + </p> + <p> + “Gawd bless you, mate!” came chokingly from the ground—and the + rescued man, extricating himself from beneath the body of his stunned + assailant, rose unsteadily to his feet and lurched toward me. + </p> + <p> + As I had surmised, he was a sailor, wearing a rough, blue-serge jacket and + having his greasy trousers thrust into heavy seaboots—by which I + judged that he was but newly come ashore. He stooped and picked up his + cap. It was covered in mud, as were the rest of his garments, but he + brushed it with his sleeve as though it had been but slightly soiled and + clapped it on his head. + </p> + <p> + He grasped my hand in a grip of iron, peering into my face, and his breath + was eloquent. + </p> + <p> + “I'd had one or two, mate,” he confided huskily (the confession was + unnecessary). “It was them two in the Blue Anchor as did it; if I 'adn't + 'ad them last two, I could 'ave broke up them Chinks with one 'and tied + behind me.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right,” I said hastily, “but what are we going to do about + this Chink here?” I added, endeavouring at the same time to extricate my + hand from the vise-like grip in which he persistently held it. “He hit the + tiles pretty heavy when he went down.” + </p> + <p> + As if to settle my doubts, the recumbent figure suddenly arose and without + a word fled into the darkness and was gone like a phantom. My new friend + made no attempt to follow, but: + </p> + <p> + “You can't kill a bloody Chink,” he confided, still clutching my hand; “it + ain't 'umanly possible. It's easier to kill a cat. Come along o' me and + 'ave one; then I'll tell you somethink. I'll put you on somethink, I + will.” + </p> + <p> + With surprising steadiness of gait, considering the liquid cargo he had + aboard, the man, releasing my hand and now seizing me firmly by the arm, + confidently led me by divers narrow ways, which I knew, to a little + beerhouse frequented by persons of his class. + </p> + <p> + My own attire was such as to excite no suspicion in these surroundings, + and although I considered that my acquaintance had imbibed more than + enough for one night, I let him have his own way in order that I might + learn the story which he seemed disposed to confide in me. Settled in the + corner of the beerhouse—which chanced to be nearly empty—with + portentous pewters before us, the conversation was opened by my new + friend: + </p> + <p> + “I've been paid off from the Jupiter—Samuelson's Planet Line,” he + explained. “What I am is a fireman.” + </p> + <p> + “She was from Singapore to London?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “She was,” he replied, “and it was at Suez it 'appened—at Suez.” + </p> + <p> + I did not interrupt him. + </p> + <p> + “I was ashore at Suez—we all was, owin' to a 'itch with the canal + company—a matter of money, I may say. They make yer pay before + they'll take yer through. Do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + I nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Suez is a place,” he continued, “where they don't sell whisky, only + poison. Was you ever at Suez?” + </p> + <p> + Again I nodded, being most anxious to avoid diverting the current of my + friend's thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” he continued, “you know Greek Jimmy's—and that's where + I'd been.” + </p> + <p> + I did not know Greek Jimmy's, but I thought it unnecessary to mention the + fact. + </p> + <p> + “It was just about this time on a steamin' 'ot night as I come out of + Jimmy's and started for the ship. I was walkin' along the Waghorn Quay, + same as I might be walkin' along to-night, all by myself—bit of a + list to port but nothing much—full o' joy an' happiness, 'appy an' + free—'appy an' free. Just like you might have noticed to-night, I + noticed a knot of Chinks scrappin' on the ground all amongst the dust + right in front of me. I rammed in, windmillin' all round and knocking 'em + down like skittles. Seemed to me there was about ten of 'em, but allowin' + for Jimmy's whisky, maybe there wasn't more than three. Anyway, they all + shifted and left me standin' there in the empty street with this 'ere in + my 'and.” + </p> + <p> + At that, without more ado, he thrust his hand deep into some concealed + pocket and jerked out a Chinese pigtail, which had been severed, + apparently some three inches from the scalp, by a clean cut. My + acquaintance, with somewhat bleared eyes glistening in appreciation of his + own dramatic skill—for I could not conceal my surprise—dangled + it before me triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “Which of 'em it belong to,” he continued, thrusting it into another + pocket and drumming loudly on the counter for more beer, “I can't say, + 'cos I don't know. But that ain't all.” + </p> + <p> + The tankards being refilled and my friend having sampled the contents of + his own: + </p> + <p> + “That ain't all,” he continued. “I thought I'd keep it as a sort of relic, + like. What 'appened? I'll tell you. Amongst the crew there's three Chinks—see? + We ain't through the canal before one of 'em, a new one to me—Li + Ping is his name—offers me five bob for the pigtail, which he sees + me looking at one mornin'. I give him a punch on the nose an' 'e don't + renew the offer: but that night (we're layin' at Port Said) 'e tries to + pinch it! I dam' near broke his neck, and 'e don't try any more. To-night”—he + extended his right arm forensically—“a deppitation of Chinks waits + on me at the dock gates; they explains as from a patriotic point of view + they feels it to be their dooty to buy that pigtail off of me, and they + bids a quid, a bar of gold—a Jimmy o' Goblin!” + </p> + <p> + He snapped his fingers contemptuously and emptied his pewter. A sense of + what was coming began to dawn on me. That the “hold-up” near the riverside + formed part of the scheme was possible, and, reflecting on my rough + treatment of the two Chinamen, I chuckled inwardly. Possibly, however, the + scheme had germinated in my acquaintance's mind merely as a result of an + otherwise common assault, of a kind not unusual in these parts, but, + whether elaborate or comparatively simple, that the story of the pigtail + was a “plant” designed to reach my pocket, seemed a reasonable hypothesis. + </p> + <p> + “I told him to go to China,” concluded the object of my suspicion, again + rapping upon the counter, “and you see what come of it. All I got to say + is this: If they're so bloody patriotic, I says one thing: I ain't the man + to stand in their way. You done me a good turn to-night, mate; I'm doing + you one. 'Ere's the bloody pigtail, 'ere's my empty mug. Fill the mug and + the pigtail's yours. It's good for a quid at the dock gates any day!” + </p> + <p> + My suspicions vanished; my interest arose to boiling point. I refilled my + acquaintance's mug, pressed a sovereign upon him (in honesty I must + confess that he was loath to take it), and departed with the pigtail + coiled neatly in an inner pocket of my jacket. I entered the house in Wade + Street by the side door, and half an hour later let myself out by the + front door, having cast off my dockland disguise. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + HOW I LOST IT + </h3> + <p> + It was not until the following evening that I found leisure to examine my + strange acquisition, for affairs of more immediate importance engrossed my + attention. But at about ten o'clock I seated myself at my table, lighted + the lamp, and taking out the pigtail from the table drawer, placed it on + the blotting-pad and began to examine it with the greatest curiosity, for + few Chinese affect the pigtail nowadays. + </p> + <p> + I had scarcely commenced my examination, however, when it was dramatically + interrupted. The door bell commenced to ring jerkily. I stood up, and as I + did so the ringing ceased and in its place came a muffled beating on the + door. I hurried into the passage as the bell commenced ringing again, and + I had almost reached the door when once more the ringing ceased; but now I + could hear a woman's voice, low but agitated: + </p> + <p> + “Open the door! Oh, for God's sake be quick!” + </p> + <p> + Completely mystified, and not a little alarmed, I threw open the door, and + in there staggered a woman heavily veiled, so that I could see little of + her features, but by the lines of her figure I judged her to be young. + </p> + <p> + Uttering a sort of moan of terror she herself closed the door, and stood + with her back to it, watching me through the thick veil, while her breast + rose and fell tumultuously. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God there was someone at home!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + I think I may say with justice that I had never been so surprised in my + life; every particular of the incident marked it as unique—set it + apart from the episodes of everyday life. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” I began doubtfully, “you seem to be much alarmed at something, + and if I can be of any assistance to you———” + </p> + <p> + “You have saved my life!” she whispered, and pressed one hand to her + bosom. “In a moment I will explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you rest a little after your evidently alarming experience?” I + suggested. + </p> + <p> + My strange visitor nodded, without speaking, and I conducted her to the + study which I had just left, and placed the most comfortable arm-chair + close beside the table so that as I sat I might study this woman who so + strangely had burst in upon me. I even tilted the shaded lamp, artlessly, + a trick I had learned from Harley, in order that the light might fall upon + her face. + </p> + <p> + She may have detected this device; I know not; but as if in answer to its + challenge, she raised her gloved hands and unfastened the heavy veil which + had concealed her features. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon I found myself looking into a pair of lustrous black eyes whose + almond shape was that of the Orient; I found myself looking at a woman + who, since she was evidently a Jewess, was probably no older than eighteen + or nineteen, but whose beauty was ripely voluptuous, who might fittingly + have posed for Salome, who, despite her modern fashionable garments, at + once suggested to my mind the wanton beauty of the daughter of Herodias. + </p> + <p> + I stared at her silently for a time, and presently her full lips parted in + a slow smile. My ideas were diverted into another channel. + </p> + <p> + “You have yet to tell me what alarmed you,” I said in a low voice, but as + courteously as possible, “and if I can be of any assistance in the + matter.” + </p> + <p> + My visitor seemed to recollect her fright—or the necessity for + simulation. The pupils of her fine eyes seemed to grow larger and darker; + she pressed her white teeth into her lower lips, and resting her hands + upon the table leaned toward me. + </p> + <p> + “I am a stranger to London,” she began, now exhibiting a certain + diffidence, “and to-night I was looking for the chambers of Mr. Raphael + Philips of Figtree Court.” + </p> + <p> + “This is Figtree Court,” I said, “but I know of no Mr. Raphael Philips who + has chambers here.” + </p> + <p> + The black eyes met mine despairingly. + </p> + <p> + “But I am positive of the address!” protested my beautiful but strange + caller—from her left glove she drew out a scrap of paper, “here it + is.” + </p> + <p> + I glanced at the fragment, upon which, in a woman's hand the words were + pencilled: “Mr. Raphael Philips, 36-b Figtree Court, London.” + </p> + <p> + I stared at my visitor, deeply mystified. + </p> + <p> + “These chambers are 36-b!” I said. “But I am not Raphael Philips, nor have + I ever heard of him. My name is Malcolm Knox. There is evidently some + mistake, but”—returning the slip of paper—“pardon me if I + remind you, I have yet to learn the cause of your alarm.” + </p> + <p> + “I was followed across the court and up the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Followed! By whom?” + </p> + <p> + “By a dreadful-looking man, chattering in some tongue I did not + understand!” + </p> + <p> + My amazement was momentarily growing greater. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a man?” I demanded rather abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “A yellow-faced man—remember I could only just distinguish him in + the darkness on the stairway, and see little more of him than his eyes at + that, and his ugly gleaming teeth—oh! it was horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “You astound me,” I said; “the thing is utterly incomprehensible.” I + switched off the light of the lamp. “I'll see if there's any sign of him + in the court below.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't leave me! For heaven's sake don't leave me alone!” + </p> + <p> + She clutched my arm in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Have no fear; I merely propose to look out from this window.” + </p> + <p> + Suiting the action to the word, I peered down into the court below. It was + quite deserted. The night was a very dark one, and there were many patches + of shadow in which a man might have lain concealed. + </p> + <p> + “I can see no one,” I said, speaking as confidently as possible, and + relighting the lamp, “if I call a cab for you and see you safely into it, + you will have nothing to fear, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a cab waiting,” she replied, and lowering the veil she stood up to + go. + </p> + <p> + “Kindly allow me to see you to it. I am sorry you have been subjected to + this annoyance, especially as you have not attained the object of your + visit.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you so much for your kindness; there must be some mistake about the + address, of course.” + </p> + <p> + She clung to my arm very tightly as we descended the stairs, and often + glanced back over her shoulder affrightedly, as we crossed the court. + There was not a sign of anyone about, however, and I could not make up my + mind whether the story of the yellow man was a delusion or a fabrication. + I inclined to the latter theory, but the object of such a deception was + more difficult to determine. + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, a taxicab was waiting at the entrance to the court; and my + visitor, having seated herself within, extended her hand to me, and even + through the thick veil I could detect her brilliant smile. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you so much, Mr. Knox,” she said, “and a thousand apologies. I am + sincerely sorry to have given you all this trouble.” + </p> + <p> + The cab drove off. For a moment I stood looking after it, in a state of + dreamy incertitude, then turned and slowly retraced my steps. Reopening + the door of my chambers with my key, I returned to my study and sat down + at the table to endeavour to arrange the facts of what I recognized to be + a really amazing episode. The adventure, trifling though it seemed, + undoubtedly held some hidden significance that at present was not apparent + to me. In accordance with the excellent custom of my friend, Paul Harley, + I prepared to make notes of the occurrence while the facts were still + fresh in my memory. At the moment that I was about to begin, I made an + astounding discovery. + </p> + <p> + Although I had been absent only a few minutes, and had locked my door + behind me, the pigtail was gone! + </p> + <p> + I sat quite still, listening intently. The woman's story of the yellow man + on the stairs suddenly assumed a totally different aspect—a new and + sinister aspect. Could it be that the pigtail was at the bottom of the + mystery?—could it be that some murderous Chinaman who had been + lurking in hiding, waiting his opportunity, had in some way gained access + to my chambers during that brief absence? If so, was he gone? + </p> + <p> + From the table drawer I took out a revolver, ascertained that it was fully + loaded, and turning up light after light as I proceeded, conducted a + room-to-room search. It was without result; there was absolutely nothing + to indicate that anyone had surreptitiously entered or departed from my + chambers. + </p> + <p> + I returned to the study and sat gazing at the revolver lying on the + blotting-pad before me. Perhaps my mind worked slowly, but I think that + fully fifteen minutes must have passed before it dawned on me that the + explanation not only of the missing pigtail but of the other incidents of + the night, was simple enough. The yellow man had been a fabrication, and + my dark-eyed visitor had not been in quest of “Raphael Philips,” but in + quest of the pigtail: and her quest had been successful! + </p> + <p> + “What a hopeless fool I am!” I cried, and banged my fist down upon the + table, “there was no yellow man at all—there was——-” + </p> + <p> + My door bell rang. I sprang nervously to my feet, glanced at the revolver + on the table—and finally dropped it into my coat pocket ere going + out and opening the door. + </p> + <p> + On the landing stood a police constable and an officer in plain clothes. + </p> + <p> + “Your name is Malcolm Knox?” asked the constable, glancing at a note-book + which he held in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “You are required to come at once to Bow Street to identify a woman who + was found murdered in a taxi-cab in the Strand about eleven o'clock + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + I suppressed an exclamation of horror; I felt myself turning pale. + </p> + <p> + “But what has it to do———” + </p> + <p> + “The driver stated she came from your chambers, for you saw her off, and + her last words to you were 'Good night, Mr. Knox, I am sincerely sorry to + have given you all this trouble.' Is that correct, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The constable, who had read out the information in an official voice, now + looked at me, as I stood there stupefied. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” I said blankly. “I'll come at once.” It would seem that I had + misjudged my unfortunate visitor: her story of the yellow man on the stair + had apparently been not a fabrication, but a gruesome fact! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <h3> + HOW I REGAINED IT + </h3> + <p> + My ghastly duty was performed; I had identified the dreadful thing, which + less than an hour before had been a strikingly beautiful woman, as my + mysterious visitor. The police were palpably disappointed at the sparsity + of my knowledge respecting her. In fact, had it not chanced that Detective + Sergeant Durham was in the station, I think they would have doubted the + accuracy of my story. + </p> + <p> + As a man of some experience in such matters, I fully recognized its + improbability, but beyond relating the circumstances leading up to my + possession of the pigtail and the events which had ensued, I could do no + more in the matter. The weird relic had not been found on the dead woman, + nor in the cab. + </p> + <p> + Now the unsavoury business was finished, and I walked along Bow Street, + racking my mind for the master-key to this mystery in which I was become + enmeshed. How I longed to rush off to Harley's rooms in Chancery Lane and + to tell him the whole story! But my friend was a thousand miles away—and + I had to see the thing out alone. + </p> + <p> + That the pigtail was some sacred relic stolen from a Chinese temple and + sought for by its fanatical custodians was a theory which persistently + intruded itself. But I could find no place in that hypothesis for the + beautiful Jewess; and that she was intimately concerned I did not doubt. A + cool survey of the facts rendered it fairly evident that it was she and + none other who had stolen the pigtail from my rooms. Some third party—possibly + the “yellow man” of whom she had spoken—had in turn stolen it from + her, strangling her in the process. + </p> + <p> + The police theory of the murder (and I was prepared to accept it) was that + the assassin had been crouching in hiding behind or beside the cab—or + even within the dark interior. He had leaped in and attacked the woman at + the moment that the taxi-man had started his engine; if already inside, + the deed had proven even easier. Then, during some block in the traffic, + he had slipped out unseen, leaving the body of the victim to be discovered + when the cab pulled up at the hotel. + </p> + <p> + I knew of only one place in London where I might hope to obtain useful + information, and for that place I was making now. It was Malay Jack's, + whence I had been bound on the previous night when my strange meeting with + the seaman who then possessed the pigtail had led to a change of plan. The + scum of the Asiatic population always come at one time or another to + Jack's, and I hoped by dint of a little patience to achieve what the + police had now apparently despaired of achieving—the discovery of + the assassin. + </p> + <p> + Having called at my chambers to obtain my revolver, I mounted an + eastward-bound motor-bus. The night, as I have already stated, was + exceptionally dark. There was no moon, and heavy clouds were spread over + the sky; so that the deserted East End streets presented a sufficiently + uninviting aspect, but one with which I was by no means unfamiliar and + which certainly in no way daunted me. + </p> + <p> + Changing at Paul Harley's Chinatown base in Wade Street, I turned my steps + in the same direction as upon the preceding night; but if my own will + played no part in the matter, then decidedly Providence truly guided me. + Poetic justice is rare enough in real life, yet I was destined to-night to + witness swift retribution overtaking a malefactor. + </p> + <p> + The by-ways which I had trodden were utterly deserted; I was far from the + lighted high road, and the only signs of human activity that reached me + came from the adjacent river; therefore, when presently an outcry arose + from somewhere on my left, for a moment I really believed that my + imagination was vividly reproducing the episode of the night before! + </p> + <p> + A furious scuffle—between a European and an Asiatic—was in + progress not twenty yards away! + </p> + <p> + Realizing that such was indeed the case, and that I was not the victim of + hallucination, I advanced slowly in the direction of the sounds, but my + footsteps reechoed hollowly from wall to wall of the narrow passage-way, + and my coming brought the conflict to a sudden and dramatic termination. + </p> + <p> + “Thought I wouldn't know yer ugly face, did yer?” yelled a familiar voice. + “No good squealin'—I got yer! I'd bust you up if I could!” (a sound + of furious blows and inarticulate chattering) “but it ain't 'umanly + possible to kill a Chink———” + </p> + <p> + I hurried forward toward the spot where two dim figures were locked in + deadly conflict. + </p> + <p> + “Take that to remember me by!” gasped the husky voice as I ran up. + </p> + <p> + One of the figures collapsed in a heap upon the ground. The other made off + at a lumbering gait along a second and even narrower passage branching at + right angles from that in which the scuffle had taken place. + </p> + <p> + The clatter of the heavy sea-boots died away in the distance. I stood + beside the fallen man, looking keenly about to right and left; for an + impression was strong upon me that another than I had been witness of the + scene—that a shadowy form had slunk back furtively at my approach. + But the night gave up no sound in confirmation of this, and I could detect + no sign of any lurker. + </p> + <p> + I stooped over the Chinaman (for a Chinaman it was) who lay at my feet, + and directed the ray of my pocket-lamp upon his yellow and contorted + countenance. I suppressed a cry of surprise and horror. + </p> + <p> + Despite the human impossibility referred to by the missing fireman, this + particular Chinaman had joined the shades of his ancestors. I think that + final blow, which had felled him, had brought his shaven skull in such + violent contact with the wall that he had died of the thundering + concussion set up. + </p> + <p> + Kneeling there and looking into his upturned eyes, I became aware that my + position was not an enviable one, particularly since I felt little + disposed to set the law on the track of the real culprit. For this man who + now lay dead at my feet was doubtless one of the pair who had attempted + the life of the fireman of the Jupiter. + </p> + <p> + That my seafaring acquaintance had designed to kill the Chinaman I did not + believe, despite his stormy words: the death had been an accident, and + (perhaps my morality was over-broad) I considered the assault to have been + justified. + </p> + <p> + Now my ideas led me further yet. The dead Chinaman wore a rough blue coat, + and gingerly, for I found the contact repulsive, I inserted my hand into + the inside pocket. Immediately my fingers closed upon a familiar object—and + I stood up, whistling slightly, and dangling in my left hand the missing + pigtail! + </p> + <p> + Beyond doubt Justice had guided the seaman's blows. This was the man who + had murdered my dark-eyed visitor! + </p> + <p> + I stood perfectly still, directing the little white ray of my flashlight + upon the pigtail in my hand. I realized that my position, difficult + before, now was become impossible; the possession of the pigtail + compromised me hopelessly. What should I do? + </p> + <p> + “My God!” I said aloud, “what does it all mean?” + </p> + <p> + “It means,” said a gruff voice, “that it was lucky I was following you and + saw what happened!” + </p> + <p> + I whirled about, my heart leaping wildly. Detective-Sergeant Durham was + standing watching me, a grim smile upon his face! + </p> + <p> + I laughed rather shakily. + </p> + <p> + “Lucky indeed!” I said. “Thank God you're here. This pigtail is a + nightmare which threatens to drive me mad!” + </p> + <p> + The detective advanced and knelt beside the crumpled-up figure on the + ground. He examined it briefly, and then stood up. + </p> + <p> + “The fact that he had the missing pigtail in his pocket,” he said, “is + proof enough to my mind that he did the murder.” + </p> + <p> + “And to mine.” + </p> + <p> + “There's another point,” he added, “which throws a lot of light on the + matter. You and Mr. Harley were out of town at the time of the Huang Chow + case; but the Chief and I outlined it, you remember, one night in Mr. + Harley's rooms?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember it perfectly; the giant spider in the coffin———” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and a certain Ah Fu, confidential servant of the old man, who used + to buy the birds the thing fed on. Well, Mr. Knox, Huang Chow was the + biggest dealer in illicit stuff in all the East End—and this + battered thing at our feet is—Ah Fu!” + </p> + <p> + “Huang Chow's servant?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” + </p> + <p> + I stared, uncomprehendingly, and: + </p> + <p> + “In what way does this throw light on the matter?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + Durham—a very intelligent young officer—smiled significantly. + </p> + <p> + “I begin to see light!” he declared. “The gentleman who made off just as I + arrived on the scene probably had a private quarrel with the Chinaman and + was otherwise not concerned in any way.” + </p> + <p> + “I am disposed to agree with you,” I said guardedly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, you've no idea of his identity?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid not.” + </p> + <p> + “We may find him,” mused the officer, glancing at me shrewdly, “by + applying at the offices of the Planet Line, but I rather doubt it. Also I + rather doubt if we'll look very far. He's saved us a lot of trouble, but”—peering + about in the shadowy corners which abounded—“didn't I see somebody + else lurking around here?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm almost certain there was someone else!” I cried. “In fact, I could + all but swear to it.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm!” said the detective. “He's not here now. Might I trouble you to walk + along to Limehouse Police Station for the ambulance? I'd better stay + here.” + </p> + <p> + I agreed at once, and started off. + </p> + <p> + Thus a second time my plans were interrupted, for my expedition that night + ultimately led me to Bow Street, whence, after certain formalities had + been observed, I departed for my chambers, the mysterious pigtail in my + pocket. Failing the presence of Durham, the pigtail must have been + retained as evidence, but: + </p> + <p> + “We shall know where to find it if it's wanted, Mr. Knox,” said the Yard + man, “and I can trust you to look after your own property.” + </p> + <p> + The clock of St. Paul's was chiming the hour of two when I locked the door + of my chambers and prepared to turn in. The clangour of the final strokes + yet vibrated through the night's silence when someone set my own door bell + loudly ringing. + </p> + <p> + With an exclamation of annoyance I shot back the bolts and threw open the + door. + </p> + <p> + A Chinaman stood outside upon the mat! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <h3> + HOW IT ALL ENDED + </h3> + <p> + “Me wishee see you,” said the apparition, smiling blandly; “me comee in?” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, by all means,” I said without enthusiasm, and, switching on the + light in my study, I admitted the Chinaman and stood facing him with an + expression upon my face which I doubt not was the reverse of agreeable. + </p> + <p> + My visitor, who wore a slop-shop suit, also wore a wide-brimmed bowler + hat; now, the set bland smile still upon his yellow face, he removed the + bowler and pointed significantly to his skull. + </p> + <p> + His pigtail had been severed some three inches from the root! + </p> + <p> + “You gotchee my pigtail,” he explained; “me callee get it—thank + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” I said grimly. “But I must ask you to establish your claim + rather more firmly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yessir,” agreed the Chinaman. + </p> + <p> + And thereupon in tolerable pidgin English he unfolded his tale. He + proclaimed his name to be Hi Wing Ho, and his profession that of a sailor, + or so I understood him. While ashore at Suez he had become embroiled with + some drunken seamen: knives had been drawn, and in the scuffle by some + strange accident his pigtail had been severed. He had escaped from the + conflict, badly frightened, and had run a great distance before he + realized his loss. Since Southern Chinamen of his particular Tong hold + their pigtails in the highest regard, he had instituted inquiries as soon + as possible, and had presently learned from a Chinese member of the crew + of the S.S. Jupiter that the precious queue had fallen into the hands of a + fireman on that vessel. He (Hi Wing Ho) had shipped on the first available + steamer bound for England, having in the meanwhile communicated with his + friend on the Jupiter respecting the recovery of the pigtail. + </p> + <p> + “What was the name of your friend on the Jupiter?” + </p> + <p> + “Him Li Ping—yessir!”—without the least hesitation or hurry. + </p> + <p> + I nodded. “Go on,” I said. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at the London docks very shortly after the Jupiter. Indeed, the + crew of the latter vessel had not yet been paid off when Hi Wing Ho + presented himself at the dock gates. He admitted that, finding the fireman + so obdurate, he and his friend Li Ping had resorted to violence, but he + did not seem to recognize me as the person who had frustrated their + designs. Thus far I found his story credible enough, excepting the + accidental severing of the pigtail at Suez, but now it became wildly + improbable, for he would have me believe that Li Ping, or Ah Fu, obtaining + possession of the pigtail (in what manner Hi Wing Ho protested that he + knew not) he sought to hold it to ransom, knowing how highly Hi Wing Ho + valued it. + </p> + <p> + I glared sternly at the Chinaman, but his impassive countenance served him + well. That he was lying to me I no longer doubted; for Ah Fu could not + have hoped to secure such a price as would justify his committing murder; + furthermore, the presence of the unfortunate Jewess in the case was not + accounted for by the ingenious narrative of Hi Wing Ho. I was standing + staring at him and wondering what course to adopt, when yet again my + restless door-bell clamoured in the silence. + </p> + <p> + Hi Wing Ho started nervously, exhibiting the first symptoms of alarm which + I had perceived in him. My mind was made up in an instant. I took my + revolver from the drawer and covered him. + </p> + <p> + “Be good enough to open the door, Hi Wing Ho,” I said coldly. + </p> + <p> + He shrank from me, pouring forth voluble protestations. + </p> + <p> + “Open the door!” + </p> + <p> + I clenched my left fist and advanced upon him. He scuttled away with his + odd Chinese gait and threw open the door. Standing before me I saw my + friend Detective Sergeant Durham, and with him a remarkably tall and very + large-boned man whose square-jawed face was deeply tanned and whose aspect + was dourly Scottish. + </p> + <p> + When the piercing eyes of this stranger rested upon Hi Wing Ho an + expression which I shall never forget entered into them; an expression + coldly murderous. As for the Chinaman, he literally crumpled up. + </p> + <p> + “You rat!” roared the stranger. + </p> + <p> + Taking one long stride he stooped upon the Chinaman, seized him by the + back of the neck as a terrier might seize a rat, and lifted him to his + feet. + </p> + <p> + “The mystery of the pigtail, Mr. Knox,” said the detective, “is solved at + last.” + </p> + <p> + “Have ye got it?” demanded the Scotsman, turning to me, but without + releasing his hold upon the neck of Hi Wing Ho. + </p> + <p> + I took the pigtail from my pocket and dangled it before his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you come into my study,” I said, “and explain matters.” + </p> + <p> + We entered the room which had been the scene of so many singular + happenings. The detective and I seated ourselves, but the Scotsman, + holding the Chinaman by the neck as though he had been some inanimate + bundle, stood just within the doorway, one of the most gigantic specimens + of manhood I had ever set eyes upon. + </p> + <p> + “You do the talking, sir,” he directed the detective; “ye have all the + facts.” + </p> + <p> + While Durham talked, then, we all listened—excepting the Chinaman, + who was past taking an intelligent interest in anything, and who, to judge + from his starting eyes, was being slowly strangled. + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman,” said Durham—“Mr. Nicholson—arrived two days + ago from the East. He is a buyer for a big firm of diamond merchants, and + some weeks ago a valuable diamond was stolen from him———” + </p> + <p> + “By this!” interrupted the Scotsman, shaking the wretched Hi Wing Ho + terrier fashion. + </p> + <p> + “By Hi Wing Ho,” explained the detective, “whom you see before you. The + theft was a very ingenious one, and the man succeeded in getting away with + his haul. He tried to dispose of the diamond to a certain Isaac Cohenberg, + a Singapore moneylender; but Isaac Cohenberg was the bigger crook of the + two. Hi Wing Ho only escaped from the establishment of Cohenberg by dint + of sandbagging the moneylender, and quitted the town by a boat which left + the same night. On the voyage he was indiscreet enough to take the diamond + from its hiding-place and surreptitiously to examine it. Another member of + the Chinese crew, one Li Ping—otherwise Ah Fu, the accredited agent + of old Huang Chow!—was secretly watching our friend, and, knowing + that he possessed this valuable jewel, he also learned where he kept it + hidden. At Suez Ah Fu attacked Hi Wing Ho and secured possession of the + diamond. It was to secure possession of the diamond that Ah Fu had gone + out East. I don't doubt it. He employed Hi Wing Ho—and Hi Wing Ho + tried to double on him! + </p> + <p> + “We are indebted to you, Mr. Knox, for some of the data upon which we have + reconstructed the foregoing and also for the next link in the narrative. A + fireman ashore from the Jupiter intruded upon the scene at Suez and + deprived Ah Fu of the fruits of his labours. Hi Wing Ho seems to have been + badly damaged in the scuffle, but Ah Fu, the more wily of the two, + evidently followed the fireman, and, deserting from his own ship, signed + on with the Jupiter.” + </p> + <p> + While this story was enlightening in some respects, it was mystifying in + others. I did not interrupt, however, for Durham immediately resumed: + </p> + <p> + “The drama was complicated by the presence of a fourth character—the + daughter of Cohenberg. Realizing that a small fortune had slipped through + his fingers, the old moneylender dispatched his daughter in pursuit of Hi + Wing Ho, having learned upon which vessel the latter had sailed. He had no + difficulty in obtaining this information, for he is in touch with all the + crooks of the town. Had he known that the diamond had been stolen by an + agent of Huang Chow, he would no doubt have hesitated. Huang Chow has an + international reputation. + </p> + <p> + “However, his daughter—a girl of great personal beauty—relied + upon her diplomatic gifts to regain possession of the stone, but, poor + creature, she had not counted with Ah Fu, who was evidently watching your + chambers (while Hi Wing Ho, it seems, was assiduously shadowing Ah Fu!). + How she traced the diamond from point to point of its travels we do not + know, and probably never shall know, but she was undeniably clever and + unscrupulous. Poor girl! She came to a dreadful end. Mr. Nicholson, here, + identified her at Bow Street to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Now the whole amazing truth burst upon me. + </p> + <p> + “I understand!” I cried. “This”—and I snatched up the pigtail— + </p> + <p> + “That my pigtail,” moaned Hi Wing Ho feebly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nicholson pitched him unceremoniously into a corner of the room, and + taking the pigtail in his huge hand, clumsily unfastened it. Out from the + thick part, some two inches below the point at which it had been cut from + the Chinaman's head, a great diamond dropped upon the floor! + </p> + <p> + For perhaps twenty seconds there was perfect silence in my study. No one + stooped to pick the diamond from the floor—the diamond which now had + blood upon it. No one, so far as my sense informed me, stirred. But when, + following those moments of stupefaction, we all looked up—Hi Wing + Ho, like a phantom, had faded from the room! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HOUSE OF GOLDEN JOSS + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + THE BLOOD-STAINED IDOL + </h3> + <p> + “Stop when we pass the next lamp and give me a light for my pipe.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “No! don't look round,” warned my companion. “I think someone is following + us. And it is always advisable to be on guard in this neighbourhood.” + </p> + <p> + We had nearly reached the house in Wade Street, Limehouse, which my friend + used as a base for East End operations. The night was dark but clear, and + I thought that presently when dawn came it would bring a cold, bright + morning. There was no moon, and as we passed the lamp and paused we stood + in almost total darkness. + </p> + <p> + Facing in the direction of the Council School I struck a match. It + revealed my ruffianly looking companion—in whom his nearest friends + must have failed to recognize Mr. Paul Harley of Chancery Lane. + </p> + <p> + He was glancing furtively back along the street, and when a moment later + we moved on, I too, had detected the presence of a figure stumbling toward + us. + </p> + <p> + “Don't stop at the door,” whispered Harley, for our follower was only a + few yards away. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly we passed the house in which Harley had rooms, and had + proceeded some fifteen paces farther when the man who was following us + stumbled in between Harley and myself, clutching an arm of either. I + scarcely knew what to expect, but was prepared for anything, when: + </p> + <p> + “Mates!” said a man huskily. “Mates, if you know where I can get a drink, + take me there!” + </p> + <p> + Harley laughed shortly. I cannot say if he remained suspicious of the + newcomer, but for my own part I had determined after one glance at the man + that he was merely a drunken fireman newly recovered from a prolonged + debauch. + </p> + <p> + “Where 'ave yer been, old son?” growled Harley, in that wonderful dialect + of his which I had so often and so vainly sought to cultivate. “You look + as though you'd 'ad one too many already.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't,” declared the fireman, who appeared to be in a semi-dazed + condition. “I ain't 'ad one since ten o'clock last night. It's dope wot's + got me, not rum.” + </p> + <p> + “Dope!” said Harley sharply; “been 'avin' a pipe, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “If you've got a corpse-reviver anywhere,” continued the man in that + curious, husky voice, “'ave pity on me, mate. I seen a thing to-night wot + give me the jim-jams.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, old son,” said my friend good-humouredly; “about turn! I've + got a drop in the bottle, but me an' my mate sails to-morrow, an' it's the + last.” + </p> + <p> + “Gawd bless yer!” growled the fireman; and the three of us—an odd + trio, truly—turned about, retracing our steps. + </p> + <p> + As we approached the street lamp and its light shone upon the haggard face + of the man walking between us, Harley stopped, and: + </p> + <p> + “Wot's up with yer eye?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + He suddenly tilted the man's head upward and peered closely into one of + his eyes. I suppressed a gasp of surprise for I instantly recognized the + fireman of the Jupiter! + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' up with it, is there?” said the fireman. + </p> + <p> + “Only a lump o' mud,” growled Harley, and with a very dirty handkerchief + he pretended to remove the imaginary stain, and then, turning to me: + </p> + <p> + “Open the door, Jim,” he directed. + </p> + <p> + His examination of the man's eyes had evidently satisfied him that our + acquaintance had really been smoking opium. + </p> + <p> + We paused immediately outside the house for which we had been bound, and + as I had the key I opened the door and the three of us stepped into a + little dark room. Harley closed the door and we stumbled upstairs to a low + first-floor apartment facing the street. There was nothing in its + appointments, as revealed in the light of an oil lamp burning on the + solitary table, to distinguish it from a thousand other such apartments + which may be leased for a few shillings a week in the neighbourhood. That + adjoining might have told a different story, for it more closely resembled + an actor's dressing-room than a seaman's lodging; but the door of this + sanctum was kept scrupulously locked. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, old son,” said my friend heartily, pushing forward an old + arm-chair. “Fetch out the grog, Jim; there's about enough for three.” + </p> + <p> + I walked to a cupboard, as the fireman sank limply down in the chair, and + took out a bottle and three glasses. When the man, who, as I could now see + quite plainly, was suffering from the after effects of opium, had eagerly + gulped the stiff drink which I handed to him, he looked around with dim, + glazed eyes, and: + </p> + <p> + “You've saved my life, mates,” he declared. “I've 'ad a 'orrible + nightmare, I 'ave—a nightmare. See?” + </p> + <p> + He fixed his eyes on me for a moment, then raised himself from his seat, + peering narrowly at me across the table. + </p> + <p> + “I seed you before, mate. Gaw, blimey! if you ain't the bloke wot I giv'd + the pigtail to! And wot laid out that blasted Chink as was scraggin' me! + Shake, mate!” + </p> + <p> + I shook hands with him, Harley eyeing me closely the while, in a manner + which told me that his quick brain had already supplied the link + connecting our doped acquaintance with my strange experience during his + absence. At the same time it occurred to me that my fireman friend did not + know that Ah Fu was dead, or he would never have broached the subject so + openly. + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” I said, and wondered if he required further information. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, mate. I don't want to 'ear no more about blinking + pigtails—not all my life I don't,” and he sat back heavily in his + chair and stared at Harley. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” inquired Harley, as if no interruption had + occurred, and then began to reload his pipe: “at Malay Jack's or at Number + Fourteen?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither of 'em!” cried the fireman, some evidence of animation appearing + in his face; “I been at Kwen Lung's.” + </p> + <p> + “In Pennyfields?” + </p> + <p> + “That's 'im, the old bloke with the big joss. I allers goes to see Ma + Lorenzo when I'm in Port o' London. I've seen 'er for the last time, + mates.” + </p> + <p> + He banged a big and dirty hand upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “Last night I see murder done, an' only that I know they wouldn't believe + me, I'd walk across to Limehouse P'lice Station presently and put the + splits on 'em, I would.” + </p> + <p> + Harley, who was seated behind the speaker, glanced at me significantly. + </p> + <p> + “Sure you wasn't dreamin'?” he inquired facetiously. + </p> + <p> + “Dreamin'!” cried the man. “Dreams don't leave no blood be'ind, do they?” + </p> + <p> + “Blood!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “That's wot I said—blood! When I woke up this mornin' there was + blood all on that grinnin' joss—the blood wot 'ad dripped from 'er + shoulders when she fell.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh!” said Harley. “Blood on whose shoulders? Wot the 'ell are you talkin' + about, old son?” + </p> + <p> + “Ere”—the fireman turned in his chair and grasped Harley by the arm—“listen + to me, and I'll tell you somethink, I will. I'm goin' in the Seahawk in + the mornin' see? But if you want to know somethink, I'll tell yer. Drunk + or sober I bars the blasted p'lice, but if you like to tell 'em I'll put + you on somethink worth tellin'. Sure the bottle's empty, mates?” + </p> + <p> + I caught Harley's glance and divided the remainder of the whisky evenly + between the three glasses. + </p> + <p> + “Good 'ealth,” said the fireman, and disposed of his share at a draught. + “That's bucked me up wonderful.” + </p> + <p> + He lay back in his chair and from a little tobacco-box began to fill a + short clay pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Look 'ere, mates, I'm soberin' up, like, after the smoke, an' I can see, + I can see plain, as nobody'll ever believe me. Nobody ever does, worse + luck, but 'ere goes. Pass the matches.” + </p> + <p> + He lighted his pipe, and looking about him in a sort of vaguely aggressive + way: + </p> + <p> + “Last night,” he resumed, “after I was chucked out of the Dock Gates, I + made up my mind to go and smoke a pipe with old Ma Lorenzo. Round I goes + to Pennyfields, and she don't seem glad to see me. There's nobody there + only me. Not like the old days when you 'ad to book your seat in advance.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “She didn't want to let me in at first, said they was watched, that if a + Chink 'ad an old pipe wot 'ad b'longed to 'is grandfather it was good + enough to get 'im fined fifty quid. Anyway, me bein' an old friend she + spread a mat for me and filled me a pipe. I asked after old Kwen Lung, + but, of course, 'e was out gamblin', as usual; so after old Ma Lorenzo 'ad + made me comfortable an' gone out I 'ad the place to myself, and presently + I dozed off and forgot all about bloody ship's bunkers an' nigger-drivin' + Scotchmen.” + </p> + <p> + He paused and looked about him defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno 'ow long I slept,” he continued, “but some time in the night I + kind of 'alf woke up.” + </p> + <p> + At that he twisted violently in his chair and glared across at Harley: + </p> + <p> + “You been a pal to me,” he said; “but tell me I was dreamin' again and + I'll smash yer bloody face!” + </p> + <p> + He glared for a while, then addressing his narrative more particularly to + me, he resumed: + </p> + <p> + “It was a scream wot woke me—a woman's scream. I didn't sit up; I + couldn't. I never felt like it before. It was the same as bein' buried + alive, I should think. I could see an' I could 'ear, but I couldn't move + one muscle in my body. Foller me? An' wot did I see, mates, an' wot did I + 'ear? I'm goin' to tell yer. I see old Kwen Lung's daughter———” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know 'e 'ad one,” murmured Harley. + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't know much!” shouted the fireman. “I knew years ago, but 'e + kept 'er stowed away somewhere up above, an' last night was the first time + I ever see 'er. It was 'er shriek wot 'ad reached me, reached me through + the smoke. I don't take much stock in Chink gals in general, but this + one's mother was no Chink, I'll swear. She was just as pretty as a + bloomin' ivory doll, an' as little an' as white, and that old swine Kwen + Lung 'ad tore the dress off of 'er shoulders with a bloody great whip!” + </p> + <p> + Harley was leaning forward in his seat now, intent upon the man's story, + and although I could not get rid of the idea that our friend was relating + the events of a particularly unpleasant opium dream, nevertheless I was + fascinated by the strange story and by the strange manner of its telling. + </p> + <p> + “I saw the blood drip from 'er bare shoulders, mates,” the man continued + huskily, and with his big dirty hands he strove to illustrate his words. + “An' that old yellow devil lashed an' lashed until the poor gal was past + screamin'. She just sunk down on the floor all of a 'cap, moanin' and + moanin'—Gawd! I can 'ear 'er moanin' now!” + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile, 'ere's me with murder in me 'eart lyin' there watchin', an' I + can't speak, no! I can't even curse the yellow rat, an' I can't move—not + a 'and, not a foot! Just as she fell there right up against the joss an' + 'er blood trickled down on 'is gilded feet, old Ma Lorenzo comes + staggerin' in. I remember all this as clear as print, mates, remember it + plain, but wot 'appened next ain't so good an' clear. Somethink seemed to + bust in me 'ead. Only just before I went off, the winder—there's + only one in the room—was smashed to smithereens an' somebody come in + through it.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” said Harley eagerly. “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + That he was intensely absorbed in the story he revealed by a piece of bad + artistry, very rare in him. He temporarily forgot his dialect. Our marine + friend, however, was too much taken up with his own story to notice the + slip, and: + </p> + <p> + “Dead sure!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + He suddenly twisted around in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me I was dreamin', mate,” he invited, “and if you ain't dreamin' in + 'arf a tick it won't be because I 'aven't put yer to sleep!” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't arguin', old son,” said Harley soothingly. “Get on with your + yarn.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho!” said the fireman, mollified, “so long as you ain't. Well, then, it's + all blotted out after that. Somebody come in at the winder, but 'oo it was + or wot it was I can't tell yer, not for fifty quid. When I woke up, which + is about 'arf an hour before you see me, I'm all alone—see? There's + no sign of Kwen Lung nor the gal nor old Ma Lorenzo nor anybody. I sez to + meself, wot you keep on sayin'. I sez, 'You're dreamin', Bill.'” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't think you was,” declared Harley. “Straight I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I wasn't!” roared the fireman, and banged the table lustily. “I + see 'er blood on the joss an' on the floor where she lay!” + </p> + <p> + “This morning?” I interjected. + </p> + <p> + “This mornin', in the light of the little oil lamp where old Ma Lorenzo + 'ad roasted the pills! It's all still an' quiet an' I feel more dead than + alive. I'm goin' to give 'er a hail, see? When I sez to myself, 'Bill,' I + sez, 'put out to sea; you're amongst Kaffirs, Bill.' It occurred to me as + old Kwen Lung might wonder 'ow much I knew. So I beat it. But when I got + in the open air I felt I'd never make my lodgin's without a tonic. That's + 'ow I come to meet you, mates. + </p> + <p> + “Listen—I'm away in the old Seahawk in the mornin', but I'll tell + you somethink. That yellow bastard killed his daughter last night! Beat + 'er to death. I see it plain. The sweetest, prettiest bit of ivory as Gawd + ever put breath into. If 'er body ain't in the river, it's in the 'ouse. + Drunk or sober, I never could stand the splits, but mates”—he stood + up, and grasping me by the arm, he drew me across the room where he also + seized Harley in his muscular grip—“mates,” he went on earnestly, + “she was the sweetest, prettiest little gal as a man ever clapped eyes on. + One of yer walk into Limehouse Station an' put the koppers wise. I'd sleep + easier at sea if I knew old Kwen Lung 'ad gone west on a bloody rope's + end.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + AT KWEN LUNG'S + </h3> + <p> + For fully ten minutes after the fireman had departed Paul Harley sat + staring abstractedly in front of him, his cold pipe between his teeth, and + knowing his moods I intruded no words upon this reverie, until: + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Knox,” he said, standing up suddenly, “I think this matter calls + for speedy action.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Do you think the man's story was true?” + </p> + <p> + “I think nothing. I am going to look at Kwen Lung's joss.” + </p> + <p> + Without another word he led the way downstairs and out into the deserted + street. The first gray halftones of dawn were creeping into the sky, so + that the outlines of Limehouse loomed like dim silhouettes about us. There + was abundant evidence in the form of noises, strange and discordant, that + many workers were busy on dock and riverside, but the streets through + which our course lay were almost empty. Sometimes a furtive shadow would + move out of some black gully and fade into a dimly seen doorway in a + manner peculiarly unpleasant and Asiatic. But we met no palpable + pedestrian throughout the journey. + </p> + <p> + Before the door of a house in Pennyfields which closely resembled that + which we had left in Wade Street, in that it was flatly uninteresting, + dirty and commonplace, we paused. There was no sign of life about the + place and no lights showed at any of the windows, which appeared as dim + cavities—eyeless sockets in the gray face of the building, as dawn + proclaimed the birth of a new day. + </p> + <p> + Harley seized the knocker and knocked sharply. There was no response, and + he repeated the summons, but again without effect. Thereupon, with a + muttered exclamation, he grasped the knocker a third time and executed a + veritable tattoo upon the door. When this had proceeded for about half a + minute or more: + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right!” came a shaky voice from within. “I'm coming.” + </p> + <p> + Harley released the knocker, and, turning to me: + </p> + <p> + “Ma Lorenzo,” he whispered. “Don't make any mistakes.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, even as he warned me, heralded by a creaking of bolts and the + rattling of a chain, the door was opened by a fat, shapeless, half-caste + woman of indefinite age; in whose dark eyes, now sunken in bloated cheeks, + in whose full though drooping lips, and even in the whole overlaid contour + of whose face and figure it was possible to recognize the traces of former + beauty. This was Ma Lorenzo, who for many years had lived at that address + with old Kwen Lung, of whom strange stories were told in Chinatown. + </p> + <p> + As Bill Jones, A.B., my friend, Paul Harley, was well known to Ma Lorenzo + as he was well known to many others in that strange colony which clusters + round the London docks. I sometimes enjoyed the privilege of accompanying + my friend on a tour of investigation through the weird resorts which + abound in that neighbourhood, and, indeed, we had been returning from one + of these Baghdad nights when our present adventure had been thrust upon + us. Assuming a wild and boisterous manner which he had at command: + </p> + <p> + “'Urry up, Ma!” said Harley, entering without ceremony; “I want to + introduce my pal Jim 'ere to old Kwen Lung, and make it all right for him + before I sail.” + </p> + <p> + Ma Lorenzo, who was half Portuguese, replied in her peculiar accent: + </p> + <p> + “This no time to come waking me up out of bed!” + </p> + <p> + But Harley, brushing past her, was already inside the stuffy little room, + and I hastened to follow. + </p> + <p> + “Kwen Lung!” shouted my friend loudly. “Where are you? Brought a friend to + see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Kwen Lung no hab,” came the complaining tones of Ma Lorenzo from behind + us. + </p> + <p> + It was curious to note how long association with the Chinese had resulted + in her catching the infection of that pidgin-English which is a sort of + esperanto in all Asiatic quarters. + </p> + <p> + “Eh!” cried my friend, pushing open a door on the right of the passage and + stumbling down three worn steps into a very evil-smelling room. “Where is + he?” + </p> + <p> + “Go play fan-tan. Not come back.” + </p> + <p> + Ma Lorenzo, having relocked the street door, had rejoined us, and as I + followed my friend down into the dim and uninviting apartment she stood at + the top of the steps, hands on hips, regarding us. + </p> + <p> + The place, which was quite palpably an opium den, must have disappointed + anyone familiar with the more ornate houses of Chinese vice in San + Francisco and elsewhere. The bare floor was not particularly clean, and + the few decorations which the room boasted were garishly European for the + most part. A deep divan, evidently used sometimes as a bed, occupied one + side of the room, and just to the left of the steps reposed the only + typically Oriental object in the place. + </p> + <p> + It was a strange thing to see in so sordid a setting; a great gilded joss, + more than life-size, squatting, hideous, upon a massive pedestal; a figure + fit for some native temple but strangely out of place in that dirty little + Limehouse abode. + </p> + <p> + I had never before visited Kwen Lung's, but the fame of his golden joss + had reached me, and I know that he had received many offers for it, all of + which he had rejected. It was whispered that Kwen Lung was rich, that he + was a great man among the Chinese, and even that some kind of religious + ceremony periodically took place in his house. Now, as I stood staring at + the famous idol, I saw something which made me stare harder than ever. + </p> + <p> + The place was lighted by a hanging lamp from which depended bits of + coloured paper and several gilded silk tassels; but dim as the light was + it could not conceal those tell-tale stains. + </p> + <p> + There was blood on the feet of the golden idol! + </p> + <p> + All this I detected at a glance, but ere I had time to speak: + </p> + <p> + “You can't tell me that tale, Ma!” cried Harley. “I believe 'e was smokin' + in 'ere when we knocked.” + </p> + <p> + The woman shrugged her fat shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “No, hab,” she repeated. “You two johnnies clear out. Let me sleep.” + </p> + <p> + But as I turned to her, beneath the nonchalant manner I could detect a + great uneasiness; and in her dark eyes there was fear. That Harley also + had seen the bloodstains I was well aware, and I did not doubt that + furthermore he had noted the fact that the only mat which the room boasted + had been placed before the joss—doubtless to hide other stains upon + the boards. + </p> + <p> + As we stood so I presently became aware of a current of air passing across + the room in the direction of the open door. It came from a window before + which a tawdry red curtain had been draped. Either the window behind the + curtain was wide open, which is alien to Chinese habits, or it was + shattered. While I was wondering if Harley intended to investigate + further: + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Jim!” he cried boisterously, and clapped me on the shoulder; + “the old fox don't want to be disturbed.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the woman: + </p> + <p> + “Tell him when he wakes up, Ma,” he said, “that if ever my pal Jim wants a + pipe he's to 'ave one. Savvy? Jim's square.” + </p> + <p> + “Savvy,” replied the woman, and she was wholly unable to conceal her + relief. “You clear out now, and I tell Kwen Lung when he come in.” + </p> + <p> + “Righto, Ma!” said Harley. “Kiss 'im on both cheeks for me, an' tell 'im + I'll be 'ome again in a month.” + </p> + <p> + Grasping me by the arm he lurched up the steps, and the two of us + presently found ourselves out in the street again. In the growing light + the squalor of the district was more evident than ever, but the + comparative freshness of the air was welcome after the reek of that room + in which the golden idol sat leering, with blood at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “You saw, Harley?” I exclaimed excitedly. “You saw the stains? And I'm + certain the window was broken!” + </p> + <p> + Harley nodded shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Back to Wade Street!” he said. “I allow myself fifteen minutes to shed + Bill Jones, able seaman, and to become Paul Harley, of Chancery Lane.” + </p> + <p> + As we hurried along: + </p> + <p> + “What steps shall you take?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “First step: search Kwen Lung's house from cellar to roof. Second step: + entirely dependent upon result of first. The Chinese are subtle, Knox. If + Kwen Lung has killed his daughter, it may require all the resources of + Scotland Yard to prove it.” + </p> + <p> + “But———” + </p> + <p> + “There is no 'but' about it. Chinatown is the one district of London which + possesses the property of swallowing people up.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <h3> + “CAPTAIN DAN” + </h3> + <p> + Half an hour later, as I sat in the inner room before the great + dressing-table laboriously removing my disguise—for I was utterly + incapable of metamorphosing myself like Harley in seven minutes—I + heard a rapping at the outer door. I glanced nervously at my face in the + mirror. + </p> + <p> + Comparatively little of “Jim” had yet been removed, for since time was + precious to my friend I had acted as his dresser before setting to work to + remove my own make-up. There were two entrances to the establishment, by + one of which Paul Harley invariably entered and invariably went out, and + from the other of which “Bill Jones” was sometimes seen to emerge, but + never Paul Harley. That my friend had made good his retirement I knew, + but, nevertheless, if I had to open the door of the outer room it must be + as “Jim.” + </p> + <p> + Thinking it impolite not to do so, since the one who knocked might be + aware that we had come in but not gone out again, I hastily readjusted + that side of my moustache which I had begun to remove, replaced my cap and + muffler, and carefully locking the door of the dressing-room, crossed the + outer apartment and opened the door. + </p> + <p> + It was Harley's custom never to enter or leave these rooms except under + the mantle of friendly night, but at so early an hour I confess I had not + expected a visitor. Wondering whom I should find there I opened the door. + </p> + <p> + Standing on the landing was a fellow-lodger who permanently occupied the + two top rooms of the house. Paul Harley had taken the trouble to + investigate the man's past, for “Captain Dan,” the name by which he was + known in the saloons and worse resorts which he frequented, was palpably a + broken-down gentleman; a piece of flotsam caught in the yellow stream. + Opium had been his downfall. How he lived I never knew, but Harley + believed he had some small but settled income, sufficient to enable him to + kill himself in comfort with the black pills. + </p> + <p> + As he stood there before me in the early morning light, I was aware of + some subtle change in his appearance. It was fully six months since I had + seen him last, but in some vague way he looked younger. Haggard he was, + with an ugly cut showing on his temple, but not so lined as I remembered + him. Some former man seemed to be struggling through the opium-scarred + surface. His eyes were brighter, and I noted with surprise that he wore + decent clothes and was clean shaved. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Jim,” he said; “you remember me, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke I observed, too, that his manner had altered. He who had + consorted with the sweepings af the doss-houses now addressed me as a + courteous gentleman addresses an inferior—not haughtily or + patronizingly, but with a note of conscious superiority and self-respect + wholly unfamiliar. Almost it threw me off my guard, but remembering in the + nick of time that I was still “Jim”: + </p> + <p> + “Of course I remember you, Cap'n,” I said. “Step inside.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” he replied, and followed me into the little room. + </p> + <p> + I placed for him the arm-chair which our friend the fireman had so + recently occupied, but: + </p> + <p> + “I won't sit down,” he said. + </p> + <p> + And now I observed that he was evidently in a condition of repressed + excitement. Perhaps he saw the curiosity in my glance, for he suddenly + rested both his hands on my shoulders, and: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have given up the dope, Jim,” he said—-“done with it for + ever. There's not a soul in this neighbourhood I can trust, yet if ever a + man wanted a pal, I want one to-day. Now, you're square, my lad. I always + knew that, in spite of the dope; and if I ask you to do a little thing + that means a lot to me, I think you will do it. Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + “If it can be done, I'll do it,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Then, listen. I'm leaving England in the Patna for Singapore. She sails + at noon to-morrow, and passengers go on board at ten o'clock. I've got my + ticket, papers in order, but”—he paused impressively, grasping my + shoulders hard—“I must get on board to-night.” + </p> + <p> + I stared him in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + He returned my look with one searching and eager; then: + </p> + <p> + “If I show you the reason,” said he, “and trust you with all my papers, + will you go down to the dock—it's no great distance—and ask to + see Marryat, the chief officer? Perhaps you've sailed with him?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I replied guardedly. “I was never in the Patna.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. When you give him a letter which I shall write he will make + the necessary arrangements for me to occupy my state-room to-night. I knew + him well,” he explained, “in—the old days. Will you do it, Jim?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it with pleasure,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Shake!” said Captain Dan. + </p> + <p> + We shook hands heartily, and: + </p> + <p> + “Now I'll show you the reason,” he added. “Come upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + Turning, he led the way upstairs to his own room, and wondering greatly, I + followed him in. Never having been in Captain Dan's apartments I cannot + say whether they, like their occupant, had changed for the better. But I + found myself in a room surprisingly clean and with a note of culture in + its appointments which was even more surprising. + </p> + <p> + On a couch by the window, wrapped in a fur rug, lay the prettiest + half-caste girl I had ever seen, East or West. Her skin was like cream + rose petals and her abundant hair was of wonderful lustrous black. Perhaps + it was her smooth warm colour which suggested the idea, but as her cheeks + flushed at sight of Captain Dan and the long dark eyes lighted up in + welcome, I thought of a delicate painting on ivory and I wondered more and + more what it all could mean. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought Jim to see you,” said Captain Dan. “No, don't trouble to + move dear.” + </p> + <p> + But even before he had spoken I had seen the girl wince with pain as she + had endeavoured to sit up to greet us. She lay on her side in a rather + constrained attitude, but although her sudden movement had brought tears + to her eyes she smiled bravely and extended a tiny ivory hand to me. + </p> + <p> + “This is my wife, Jim!” said Captain Dan. + </p> + <p> + I could find no words at all, but merely stood there looking very awkward + and feeling almost awed by the indescribable expression of trust in the + eyes of the little Eurasian, as with her tiny fingers hidden in her + husband's clasp she lay looking up at him. + </p> + <p> + “Now you know, Jim,” said he, “why we must get aboard the Patna to-night. + My wife is really too ill to travel; in fact, I shall have to carry her + down to the cab, and such a proceeding in daylight would attract an + enormous crowd in this neighbourhood!” + </p> + <p> + “Give me the letters and the papers,” I answered. “I will start now.” + </p> + <p> + His wife disengaged her hand and extended it to me. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she said, in a queer little silver-bell voice; “you are good. + I shall always love you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <h3> + THE SECRET OF MA LORENZO + </h3> + <p> + It must have been about eleven o'clock that night when Paul Harley rang me + up. Since we had parted in the early morning I had had no word from him, + and I was all anxiety to tell him of the quaint little romance which + unknown to us had had its setting in the room above. + </p> + <p> + In accordance with my promise I had seen the chief officer of the Patna; + and from the start of surprise which he gave on opening “Captain Dan's” + letter, I judged that Mr. Marryat and the man who for so long had sunk to + the lowest rung of the ladder had been close friends in those “old days.” + At any rate, he had proceeded to make the necessary arrangements without a + moment's delay, and the couple were to go on board the Patna at nine + o'clock. + </p> + <p> + It was with a sense of having done at least one good deed that I finally + quitted our Limehouse base and returned to my rooms. Now, at eleven + o'clock at night: + </p> + <p> + “Can you come round to Chancery Lane at once?” said Harley. “I want you to + run down to Pennyfields with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Some development in the Kwen Lung business?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly a development, but I'm not satisfied, Knox. I hate to be beaten.” + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes later I was sitting in Harley's study, watching him + restlessly promenading up and down before the fire. + </p> + <p> + “The police searched Kwen Lung's place from foundation to tiles,” he said. + “I was there myself. Old Kwen Lung conveniently kept out of the way—still + playing fan-tan, no doubt! But Ma Lorenzo was in evidence. She blandly + declared that Kwen Lung never had a daughter! And in the absence of our + friend the fireman, who sailed in the Seahawk, and whose evidence, by the + way, is legally valueless—what could we do? They could find nobody + in the neighbourhood prepared to state that Kwen Lung had a daughter or + that Kwen Lung had no daughter. There are all sorts of fables about the + old fox, but the facts about him are harder to get at.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” I explained, “the bloodstains on the joss!” + </p> + <p> + “Ma Lorenzo stumbled and fell there on the previous night, striking her + skull against the foot of the figure.” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” I cried. “We should have seen the wound last night.” + </p> + <p> + “We might have done,” said Harley musingly; “I don't know when she + inflicted it on herself; but I did see it this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the gash is there all right, partly covered by her hair.” + </p> + <p> + He stood still, staring at me oddly. + </p> + <p> + “One meets with cases of singular devotion in unexpected quarters + sometimes,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that the woman inflicted the wound upon herself in order———” + </p> + <p> + “To save old Kwen Lung—exactly! It's marvellous.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” I exclaimed. “And the window?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it was broken right enough—by two drunken sailormen fighting in + the court outside! Sash and everything smashed to splinters.” + </p> + <p> + He began irritably to pace the carpet again. + </p> + <p> + “It must have been a devil of a fight!” he added savagely. + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile,” said I, “where is old Kwen Lung hiding?” + </p> + <p> + “But more particularly,” cried Harley, “where has he hidden the poor + victim? Come along, Knox! I'm going down there for a final look round.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course the premises are being watched?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course—and also, of course, I shall be the laughing stock of + Scotland Yard if nothing results.” + </p> + <p> + It was close on midnight when once more I found myself in Pennyfields. + Carried away by Harley's irritable excitement I had quite forgotten the + romance of Captain Dan; and when, having exchanged greetings with the + detective on duty hard by the house of Kwen Lung, we presently found + ourselves in the presence of Ma Lorenzo, I scarcely knew for a moment if I + were “Jim” or my proper self. + </p> + <p> + “Is Kwen Lung in?” asked Harley sternly. + </p> + <p> + The woman shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied; “he sometimes stop away a whole week.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he?” jerked Harley. “Come in, Knox; we'll take another look round.” + </p> + <p> + A moment later I found myself again in the room of the golden joss. The + red curtain had been removed from before the shattered window, but + otherwise the place looked exactly as it had looked before. The atmosphere + was much less stale, however, but there was something repellent about the + great gilded idol smiling eternally from his pedestal beside the door. + </p> + <p> + I stared into the leering face, and it was the face of one who knew and + who might have said: “Yes! this and other things equally strange have I + beheld in many lands as well as England. Much I could tell. Many things + grim and terrible, and some few joyous; for behold! I smile but am + silent.” + </p> + <p> + For a while Harley stared abstractedly at the bloodstains on the pedestal + of the joss and upon the floor beneath from which the matting had been + pulled back. Suddenly he turned to Ma Lorenzo: + </p> + <p> + “Where have you hidden the body?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + Watching her, I thought I saw the woman flinch, but there was enough of + the Oriental in her composition to save her from self-betrayal. She shook + her head slowly, watching Harley through half-closed eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody hab,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + And I thought for once that her lapse into pidgin had been deliberate and + not accidental. + </p> + <p> + When finally we quitted the house of the missing Kwen Lung, and when, + Harley having curtly acknowledged “good night” from the detective on duty, + we came out into Limehouse Causeway. + </p> + <p> + “You have not overlooked the possibility, Harley,” I said, “that this + woman's explanation may be true, and that the fireman of the Seahawk may + have been entertaining us with an account of a weird dream?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” snapped Harley—“neither will Scotland Yard overlook it.” + </p> + <p> + He was in a particularly impossible mood, for he so rarely made mistakes + that to be detected in one invariably brought out those petulant traits of + character which may have been due in some measure to long residence in the + East. Recognizing that he would rather be alone I parted from him at the + corner of Chancery Lane and returned to my own chambers. Furthermore, I + was very tired, for it was close upon two o'clock, and on turning in I + very promptly went to sleep, nor did I awaken until late in the morning. + </p> + <p> + For some odd reason, but possibly because the fact had occurred to me just + as I was retiring, I remembered at the moment of waking that I had not + told Harley about the romantic wedding of Captain Dan. As I had left my + friend in very ill humour I thought that this would be a good excuse for + an early call, and just before eleven o'clock I walked into his office. + Innes, his invaluable secretary, showed me into the study at the back. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo, Knox,” said Harley, looking up from a little silver Buddha which + he was examining, “have you come to ask for news of the Kwen Lung case?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I replied. “Is there any?” + </p> + <p> + Harley shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “It seems like fate,” he declared, “that this thing should have been sent + to me this morning.” He indicated the silver Buddha. “A present from a + friend who knows my weakness for Chinese ornaments,” he explained grimly. + “It reminds me of that damned joss of Kwen Lung's!” + </p> + <p> + I took up the little image and examined it with interest. It was most + beautifully fashioned in the patient Oriental way, and there was a little + hinged door in the back which fitted so perfectly that when closed it was + quite impossible to detect its presence. I glanced at Harley. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you didn't find a jewel inside?” I said lightly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied; “there was nothing inside.” + </p> + <p> + But even as he uttered the words his whole expression changed, and so + suddenly as to startle me. He sprang up from the table, and: + </p> + <p> + “Have you an hour to spare, Knox?” he cried excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “I can spare an hour, but what for?” + </p> + <p> + “For Kwen Lung!” + </p> + <p> + Four minutes later we were speeding in the direction of Limehouse, and not + a word of explanation to account for this sudden journey could I extract + from my friend. Therefore I beguiled the time by telling him of my + adventure with Captain Dan. + </p> + <p> + Harley listened to the story in unbroken silence, but at its termination + he brought his hand down sharply on my knee. + </p> + <p> + “I have been almost perfectly blind, Knox,” he said; “but not quite so + perfectly blind as you!” + </p> + <p> + I stared at him in amazement, but he merely laughed and offered no + explanation of his words. + </p> + <p> + Presently, then, I found myself yet again in the familiar room of the + golden joss. Ma Lorenzo, in whom some hidden anxiety seemed to have + increased since I had last seen her, stood at the top of the stairs + watching us. Upon what idea my friend was operating and what he intended + to do I could not imagine; but without a word to the woman he crossed the + room and grasping the great golden idol with both arms he dragged it + forward across the floor! + </p> + <p> + As he did so there was a stifled shriek, and Ma Lorenzo, stumbling down + the steps, threw herself on her knees before Harley! Raising imploring + hands: + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” she moaned. “Not until I tell you—I tell you everything + first!” + </p> + <p> + “To begin with, tell me how to open this thing,” he said sternly. + </p> + <p> + Momentarily she hesitated, and did not rise from her knees, but: + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear me?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + The woman rose unsteadily and walking slowly round the joss manipulated + some hidden fastening, whereupon the entire back of the thing opened like + a door! From what was within she shudderingly averted her face, but + Harley, stepping back against the wall, stopped and peered into the + cavity. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” he muttered. “Come and look, Knox.” + </p> + <p> + Prepared by his manner for some gruesome spectacle, I obeyed—and + from that which I saw I recoiled in horror. + </p> + <p> + “Harley,” I whispered, “Harley! who is it?” + </p> + <p> + The spectacle had truly sickened me. Crouched within the narrow space + enclosed by the figure of the idol was the body of an old and wrinkled + Chinaman! His knees were drawn up to his chin, and his head so compressed + upon them that little of his features could be seen. + </p> + <p> + “It is Kwen Lung!” murmured Ma Lorenzo, standing with clasped hands and + wild eyes over by the window. “Kwen Lung—and I am glad he is dead!” + </p> + <p> + Such a note of hatred came into her voice as I had never heard in the + voice of any woman. + </p> + <p> + “He is vile, a demon, a mocking cruel demon! Long, long years ago I would + have killed him, but always I was afraid. I tell you everything, + everything. This is how he comes to be dead. The little one”—again + her voice changed and a note of almost grotesque tenderness came into it—“the + lotus-flower, that is his own daughter's child, flesh of his flesh, he + keeps a prisoner as the women of China are kept, up there”—she + raised one fat finger aloft—“up above. He does not know that someone + comes to see her—someone who used to come to smoke but who gave it + up because he had looked into the dear one's eye. He does not know that + she goes with me to see her man. Ah! we think he does not know! I—I + arrange it all. A week ago they were married. Tuesday night, when Kwen + Lung die, I plan for her to steal away for ever, for ever.” + </p> + <p> + Tears now were running down the woman's fat cheeks, and her voice quivered + emotionally. + </p> + <p> + “For me it is the end, but for her it is the beginning of life. All right! + I don't matter a damn! She is young and beautiful. Ah, God! so beautiful! + A drunken pig comes here and finds his way in, so I give him the smoke and + presently he sleeps, but it makes delay, and I don't know how soon Kwen + Lung, that yellow demon, will wake. For he is like the bats who sleep all + day and wake at night. + </p> + <p> + “At last the sailor pig sleeps and I call softly to my dear little one + that the time has come. I have gone out into the street, locking the door + behind me, to see if her man is waiting, and I hear her shrieks—her + shrieks! I hurry back. My hands tremble so much that I can scarcely unlock + the door. At last I enter, and I see and I know—that yellow devil + has learned all and has been playing with us like cat and mouse! He is + lashing her, with a great whip! Lashing her—that tiny, sweet flower. + Ah!” + </p> + <p> + She choked in her utterance, and turning to the gilded joss which + contained the dead Chinaman she shook her clenched hands at it, and the + expression on her face I can never forget. Then: + </p> + <p> + “As I shriek curses at him, crash goes the window—and I see her + husband spring into the room! The tender one had fallen, there at the foot + of the joss, and Kwen Lung, his teeth gleaming—like a rat—like + a devil—turns to meet him. So he is when her man strike him, once. + Just once, here.” She rested her hand upon her heart. “And he falls—and + he coughs. He lie still. For him it is finished. That devil heart has + ceased to beat. Ah!” + </p> + <p> + She threw up her hands, and: + </p> + <p> + “That is all. I tell you no more.” + </p> + <p> + “One thing more,” said Harley sternly; “the name of the man who killed + Kwen Lung?” + </p> + <p> + At that Ma Lorenzo slowly raised her head and folded her arms across her + bosom. There was something one could never forget in the expression of her + fat face. + </p> + <p> + “Not if you burn me alive!” she answered in a low voice. “No one ever + knows that—from me.” + </p> + <p> + She sank on to the divan and buried her face in her hands. Her fat + shoulders shook grotesquely; and Harley stood perfectly still staring + across at her for fully a minute. I could hear voices in the street + outside and the hum of traffic in Limehouse Causeway. + </p> + <p> + Then my friend did a singular thing. Walking over to the gilded joss he + reclosed the opening and not without a great effort pushed the great idol + back against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “There are times, Knox,” he said, staring at me oddly, “when I'm glad that + I am not an official agent of the law.” + </p> + <p> + While I watched him dumfounded he walked across to the woman and touched + her on the shoulder. She raised her tear-stained face. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” she whispered. “I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Get ready as soon as you like,” said he tersely. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have the man removed who is watching the house, and you can reckon + on forty-eight hours to make yourself scarce.” + </p> + <p> + With never another word he seized me by the arm and hurried me out of the + place! Ten paces along the street a shabby-looking fellow was standing, + leaning against a pillar. Harley stopped, and: + </p> + <p> + “Even the greatest men make mistakes sometimes, Hewitt,” he remarked. “I'm + throwing up the case; probably Inspector Wessex will do the same. Good + morning.” + </p> + <p> + On towards the Causeway he led me—for not a word was I capable of + uttering; and just before we reached that artery of Chinatown, from + down-river came the deep, sustained note of a steamer's siren, the warning + of some big liner leaving dock. + </p> + <p> + “That will be the Patna,” said Harley. “She sails at twelve o'clock, I + think you said?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MAN WITH THE SHAVEN SKULL + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE + </h3> + <p> + “Pull that light lower,” ordered Inspector Wessex. “There you are, Mr. + Harley; what do you make of it?” + </p> + <p> + Paul Harley and I bent gingerly over the ghastly exhibit to which the + C.I.D. official had drawn our attention, and to view which we had + journeyed from Chancery Lane to Wapping. + </p> + <p> + This was the body of a man dressed solely in ragged shirt and trousers. + But the remarkable feature of his appearance lay in the fact that every + scrap of hair from chin, lip, eyebrows and skull had been shaved off! + </p> + <p> + There was another facial disfigurement, peculiarly and horribly Eastern, + which my pen may not describe. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible to identify!” murmured Harley. “Yes, you were right, + Inspector; this is a victim of Oriental deviltry. Look here, too!” + </p> + <p> + He indicated three small wounds, one situated on the left shoulder and the + others on the forearm of the dead man. + </p> + <p> + “The divisional surgeon cannot account for them,” replied Wessex. “They + are quite superficial, and he thinks they may be due to the fact that the + body got entangled with something in the river.” + </p> + <p> + “They are due to the fact that the man had a birthmark on his shoulder and + something—probably a name or some device—tattooed on his arm,” + said Harley quietly. “Some few years ago, I met with a similar case in the + neighbourhood of Stambul. A woman,” he added, significantly. + </p> + <p> + Detective-Inspector Wessex listened to my companion with respect, for + apart from his established reputation as a private inquiry-agent which had + made his name familiar in nearly every capital of the civilized world, + Paul Harley's work in Constantinople during the six months preceding war + with Turkey had merited higher reward than it had ever received. Had his + recommendations been adopted the course of history must have been + materially changed. + </p> + <p> + “You think it's a Chinatown case, then, Mr. Harley?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” was the guarded answer. + </p> + <p> + Paul Harley nodded to the constable in charge, and the ghastly figure was + promptly covered up again. My friend stood staring vacantly at Wessex, and + presently: + </p> + <p> + “The chief actor, I think, will prove to be not Chinese,” he said, turned, + and walked out. + </p> + <p> + “If there's any development,” remarked Wessex as the three of us entered + Harley's car, which stood at the door, “I will, of course, report to you, + Mr. Harley. But in the absence of any clue or mark of identification, I + fear the verdict will be, 'Body of a man unknown,' etc., which has marked + the finish of a good many in this cheerful quarter of London.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” said Harley, absently. “It presents extraordinary features, + though, and may not end as you suppose. However—where do you want me + to drop you, Wessex, at the Yard?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no,” answered Wessex. “I made a special visit to Wapping just to get + your opinion on the shaven man. I'm really going down to Deepbrow to look + into that new disappearance case; the daughter of the gamekeeper. You'll + have read of it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have,” said Harley shortly. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, readers of the daily press were growing tired of seeing on the + contents bills: “Another girl missing.” The circumstance (which might have + been no more than coincidence) that three girls had disappeared within the + last eight weeks leaving no trace behind, had stimulated the professional + scribes to link the cases, although no visible link had been found, and to + enliven a somewhat dull journalistic season with theories about “a new + Mormon menace.” + </p> + <p> + The vanishing of this fourth girl had inspired them to some startling + headlines, and the case had interested me personally for the reason that I + was acquainted with Sir Howard Hepwell, one of whose gamekeepers was the + stepfather of the missing Molly Clayton. Moreover, it was hinted that she + had gone away in the company of Captain Ronald Vane, at that time a guest + of Sir Howard's at the Manor. + </p> + <p> + In fact, Sir Howard had 'phoned to ask me if I could induce Harley to run + down, but my friend had expressed himself as disinterested in a common + case of elopement. Now, as Wessex spoke, I glanced aside at Harley, + wondering if the fact that so celebrated a member of the C.I.D. as + Detective-Inspector Wessex had been put in charge would induce him to + change his mind. + </p> + <p> + We were traversing a particularly noisy and unsavoury section of the + Commercial Road, and although I could see that Wessex was anxious to + impart particulars of the case to Harley, so loud was the din that I + recognized the impossibility of conversing, and therefore: + </p> + <p> + “Have you time to call at my rooms, Wessex?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he replied, “I have three-quarters of an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do it in the car,” said Harley suddenly. “I have been asked to + look into this case myself, and before I definitely decline I should like + to hear your version of the matter.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, we three presently gathered in my chambers, and Wessex, with + one eye on the clock, outlined the few facts at that time in his + possession respecting the missing girl. + </p> + <p> + Two days before the news of the disappearance had been published broadcast + under such headings as I have already indicated, a significant scene had + been enacted in the gamekeeper's cottage. + </p> + <p> + Molly Clayton, a girl whose remarkable beauty had made her a central + figure in numerous scandalous stories, for such is the charity of rural + neighbours, was detected by her stepfather, about eight in the evening, + slipping out of the cottage. + </p> + <p> + “Where be ye goin', hussy?” he demanded, grasping her promptly by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “For a walk!” she replied defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “A walk wi' that fine soger from t' Manor!” roared Bramber furiously. + “You'll be sorry yet, you barefaced gadabout! Must I tell you again that + t' man's a villain?” + </p> + <p> + The girl wrenched her arm from Bramber's grasp, and blazed defiance from + her beautiful eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He knows how to respect a woman—what you don't!” she retorted + hotly. + </p> + <p> + “So I don't respect you, my angel?” shouted her stepfather. “Then you know + what you can do! The door's open and there's few'll miss you!” + </p> + <p> + Snatching her hat, the girl, very white, made to go out. Whereat the + gamekeeper, a brutal man with small love for Molly, and maddened by her + taking him at his word, seized her suddenly by her abundant fair hair and + hauled her back into the room. + </p> + <p> + A violent scene followed, at the end of which Molly fainted and Bramber + came out and locked the door. + </p> + <p> + When he came back about half-past nine the girl was missing. She did not + reappear that night, and the police were advised in the morning. Their + most significant discovery was this: + </p> + <p> + Captain Ronald Vane, on the night of Molly's disappearance, had left the + Manor House, after dining alone with his host, Sir Howard Hepwell, saying + that he proposed to take a stroll as far as the Deep Wood. + </p> + <p> + He never returned! + </p> + <p> + From the moment that Gamekeeper Bramber left his cottage, and the moment + when Sir Howard Hepwell parted from his guest after dinner, the world to + which these two people, Molly Clayton and Captain Vane, were known, knew + them no more! + </p> + <p> + I was about to say that they were never seen again. But to me has fallen + the task of relating how and where Paul Harley and I met with Captain Vane + and Molly Clayton. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the Inspector's account: + </p> + <p> + “H'm,” said Harley, glancing under his thick brows in my direction, “could + you spare the time, Knox?” + </p> + <p> + “To go to Deepbrow?” I asked with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; we have ten minutes to catch the train.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll come,” said I. “Sir Howard will be delighted to see you, Harley.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + THE CLUE OF THE PHOTOGRAPHS + </h3> + <p> + “What do you make of it, Inspector?” asked my friend. Detective-Inspector + Wessex smiled, and scratched his chin. + </p> + <p> + “There was no need for me to come down!” he replied. “And certainly no + need for you, Mr. Harley!” + </p> + <p> + Harley bowed, smiling, at the implied compliment. + </p> + <p> + “It's a common or garden elopement!” continued the detective. “Vane's + reputation is absolutely rotten, and the girl was clearly infatuated. He + must have cared a good bit, too. He'll be cashiered, as sure as a gun!” + </p> + <p> + Leaving Sir Howard at the Manor, we had joined Inspector Wessex at a spot + where the baronet's preserves bordered a narrow lane. Here the ground was + soft, and the detective drew Harley's attention to a number of footprints + by a stile. + </p> + <p> + “I've got evidence that he was seen here with the girl on other occasions. + Now, Mr. Harley, I'll ask you to look over these footprints.” + </p> + <p> + Harley dropped to his knees and made a brief but close examination of the + ground round about. One particularly clear imprint of a pointed toe he + noticed especially; and Wessex, diving into the pocket of his light + overcoat, produced a patent-leather shoe, such as is used for evening + wear. + </p> + <p> + “He had a spare pair in his bag,” he explained nonchalantly, “and his man + did not prove incorruptible!” + </p> + <p> + Harley took the shoe and placed it in the impression. It fitted perfectly! + </p> + <p> + “This is Molly Clayton, I take it?” he said, indicating the prints of a + woman's foot. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” assented Wessex. “You'll notice that they stood for some little + time and then walked off, very close together.” + </p> + <p> + Harley nodded absently. + </p> + <p> + “We lose them along here,” continued Wessex, leading up the lane; “but at + the corner by the big haystack they join up with the tracks of a + motor-car! I ask for nothing clearer! There was rain that afternoon, but + there's been none since.” + </p> + <p> + “What does the Captain's man think?” + </p> + <p> + “The same as I do! He's not surprised at any madness on Vane's part, with + a pretty woman in the case!” + </p> + <p> + “The girl left nothing behind—no note?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Traced the car?” + </p> + <p> + “No. It must have been hired or borrowed from a long distance off.” + </p> + <p> + Where the tracks of the tires were visible we stopped, and Harley made a + careful examination of the marks. + </p> + <p> + “Seems to have had a struggle with her,” he said, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Very likely!” agreed Wessex, without interest. + </p> + <p> + Harley crawled about on the ground for some time, to the great detriment + of his Harris tweeds, but finally arose, a curious expression on his face—which, + however, the detective evidently failed to observe. + </p> + <p> + We returned to the Manor House where Sir Howard was awaiting us, his + good-humoured red face more red than usual; and in the library, with its + sporting prints and its works for the most part dealing with riding, + hunting, racing, and golf (except for a sprinkling of Nat Gould's novels + and some examples of the older workmanship of Whyte-Melville), we were + presently comfortably ensconced. On a side table were placed a generous + supply of liquid refreshments, cigars and cigarettes; so that we made + ourselves quite comfortable, and Sir Howard restrained his indignation, + until each had a glass before him and all were smoking. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he began, “what have you got to report, gentlemen? You, Inspector,” + he pointed with his cigar toward Wessex, “have seen Vane's man and all of + you have been down to look at these damned tracks. I only want to hear one + thing; that you expect to trace the disgraceful couple. I'll see to it”—his + voice rose almost to a shout—“that Vane is kicked out of the + service, and as to that shameless brat of Bramber's, I wish her no worse + than the blackguard's company!” + </p> + <p> + “One moment, Sir Howard, one moment,” said Harley quietly; “there are + always two sides to a case.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Mr. Harley? There's only one side that interests me—the + outrage inflicted upon my hospitality by this dirty guest of mine. For the + girl I don't give twopence; she was bound to come to a bad end.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Harley, “before we pronounce the final verdict upon either of + them I should like to interview Bramber. Perhaps,” he added, turning to + Wessex, “it would be as well if Mr. Knox and I went alone. The presence of + an official detective sometimes awes this class of witness.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, quite right!” agreed Sir Howard, waving his cigar + vigorously. “Go and see Bramber, Mr. Harley; tell him that no blame + attaches to himself whatever; also, tell him with my compliments that his + stepdaughter is———” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, quite so,” interrupted Harley, endeavouring to hide a smile. “I + understand your feelings, Sir Howard, but again I ask you to reserve your + verdict until all the facts are before us.” + </p> + <p> + As a result, Harley and I presently set out for the gamekeeper's cottage, + and as the man had been warned that we should visit him, he was on the + porch smoking his pipe. A big, dark, ugly fellow he proved to be, of a + very forbidding cast of countenance. Having introduced ourselves: + </p> + <p> + “I always knowed she'd come to a bad end!” declared Gamekeeper Bramber, + almost echoing Sir Howard's words. “One o' these gentlemen o' hers was + sure to be the finish of her!” + </p> + <p> + “She had other admirers—before Captain Vane?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye! the hussy! There was a black-faced villain not six months since! He + got t' vain cat to go to London an' have her photograph done in a dress + any decent woman would 'a' blushed to look at! Like one o' these Venuses + up at t' Manor! Good riddance! She took after her mother!” + </p> + <p> + The violent old ruffian was awkward to examine, but Harley persevered. + </p> + <p> + “This previous admirer caused her to be photographed in that way, did he? + Have you a copy?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” blazed Bramber. “What I found I burnt! He ran off, like I told her + he would—an' her cryin' her eyes out! But the pretty soger dried her + tears quick enough!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know this man's name?” + </p> + <p> + “No. A foreigner, he was.” + </p> + <p> + “Where were the photographs done—in London, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know by what photographer?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't! An' I don't care! Piccadilly they had on 'em, which was good + enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you her picture?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Did she receive a letter on the day of her disappearance?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe.” + </p> + <p> + “Good day!” said Harley. “And let me add that the atmosphere of her home + was hardly conducive to ideal conduct!” + </p> + <p> + Leaving Bramber to digest this rebuke, we came out of the cottage. Dusk + was falling now, and by the time that we regained the Manor the place was + lighted up. Inspector Wessex was waiting for us in the library, and: + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said, smiling slightly as we entered. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing much,” replied Harley dryly, “except that I don't wonder at the + girl's leaving such a home.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that! What!” roared a big voice, and Sir Howard came into the + room. “I tell you, Bramber only had one fault as a stepfather; he wasn't + heavy-handed enough. A bad lot, sir, a bad lot!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said Inspector Wessex, looking from one to another, + “personally, beyond the usual inquiries at railway stations, etc., I + cannot see that we can do much here. Don't you agree with me, Mr. Harley?” + </p> + <p> + Harley nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Quite,” he replied. “There is a late train to town which I think we could + catch if we started at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” roared Sir Howard; “you're not going back to-night? Your rooms are + ready for you, damn it!” + </p> + <p> + “I quite appreciate the kindness, Sir Howard,” replied Harley; “but I have + urgent business to attend to in London. Believe me, my departure is + unavoidable.” + </p> + <p> + The blue eyes of the baronet gleamed with the simple cunning of his kind. + </p> + <p> + “You've got something up your sleeve,” he roared. “I know you have, I know + you have!” + </p> + <p> + Inspector Wessex looked at me significantly, but I could only shrug my + shoulders in reply; for in these moods Harley was as inscrutable as the + Sphinx. + </p> + <p> + However, he had his way, and Sir Howard hurriedly putting a car in + commission, we raced for the local station and just succeeded in picking + up the express at Claybury. + </p> + <p> + Wessex was rather silent throughout the journey, often glancing in my + friend's direction, but Harley made no further reference to the case + beyond outlining the interview with Bramber, until, as we were parting at + the London terminus, Wessex to report to Scotland Yard and I to go to + Harley's rooms: + </p> + <p> + “How long do you think it will take you to find that photographer, + Wessex?” he asked. “Piccadilly is a sufficient clue.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the Inspector, “nothing can be done to-night, of course, + but I should think by mid-day tomorrow the matter should be settled.” + </p> + <p> + “Right,” said Harley shortly. “May I ask you to report the result to me, + Wessex?” + </p> + <p> + “I will report without fail.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <h3> + ALI OF CAIRO + </h3> + <p> + It was not until the evening of the following day that Harley rang me up, + and: + </p> + <p> + “I want you to come round at once,” he said urgently. “The Deepbrow case + is developing along lines which I confess I had anticipated, but which are + dramatic nevertheless.” + </p> + <p> + Knowing that Harley did not lightly make such an assertion, I put aside + the work upon which I was engaged and hurried around to Chancery Lane. I + found my friend, pipe in mouth, walking up and down his smoke-laden study + in a state which I knew to betoken suppressed excitement, and: + </p> + <p> + “Did Wessex find your photographer?” I asked on entering. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied. “A first-class man, as I had anticipated. As I had + further anticipated he did a number of copies of the picture for the + foreign gentleman—about fifty, in fact!” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Does the significance of that fact strike you?” asked Harley, a + queer smile stealing across his tanned, clean-shaven face. + </p> + <p> + “It is an extraordinary thing for even an ardent admirer to have so many + reproductions done of the same picture!” + </p> + <p> + “It is! I will show you now what I found trodden into one of the + footprints where the struggle took place beside the car.” + </p> + <p> + Harley produced a piece of thick silk twine. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a link, Knox—a link to seek which I really went down to + Deepbrow.” He stared at me quizzically, but my answering look must have + been a blank one. “It is part of the tassel of one of those red cloth caps + commonly called in England, a fez!” + </p> + <p> + He continued to stare at me and I to stare at the piece of silk; then: + </p> + <p> + “What is the next move?” I demanded. “Your new clue rather bewilders me.” + </p> + <p> + “The next move,” he said, “is to retire to the adjoining room and make + ourselves look as much like a couple of Oriental commercial travellers as + our correctly British appearance will allow!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “That's it!” laughed Harley. “I have a perpetual tan, and I think I can + give you a temporary one which I keep in a bottle for the purpose.” + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes later, then, having quitted Harley's chambers by a back way + opening into one of those old-world courts which abound in this part of + the metropolis, two quietly attired Eastern gentlemen got into a cab at + the corner of Chancery Lane and proceeded in the direction of Limehouse. + </p> + <p> + There are haunts in many parts of London whose very existence is + unsuspected by all but the few; haunts unvisited by the tourist and even + unknown to the copy-hunting pressman. Into a quiet thoroughfare not three + minutes' walk from the busy life of West India Dock Road, Harley led the + way. Before a door sandwiched in between the entrance to a Greek + tobacconist's establishment and a boarded shop-front, he paused and turned + to me. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you see or hear,” he cautioned, “express no surprise. Above all, + show no curiosity.” + </p> + <p> + He rang the bell beside the door, and almost immediately it was opened by + a Negress, grossly and repellently ugly. + </p> + <p> + Harley pattered something in what sounded like Arabic, whereat the Negress + displayed the utmost servility, ushering us into an ill-lighted passage + with every evidence of respect. Following this passage to its termination, + an inner door was opened, and a burst of discordant music greeted us, + together with a wave of tobacco smoke. We entered. + </p> + <p> + Despite my friend's particular injunctions to the contrary I gave a start + of amazement. + </p> + <p> + We stood in the doorway of a fairly large apartment having a divan round + three of its sides. This divan was occupied by ten or a dozen men of mixed + nationalities—Arabs, Greeks, lascars, and others. They smoked + cigarettes for the most part and sipped Mokha from little cups. A girl was + performing a wriggling dance upon the square carpet occupying the centre + of the floor, accompanied by a Nubian boy who twanged upon a guitar, and + by most of the assembled company, who clapped their hands to the music or + droned a low, tuneless dirge. + </p> + <p> + Shortly after our entrance the performance terminated, and the girl + retired through a curtained doorway at the farther end of the room. Our + presence being now observed, suspicious glances were cast in our + direction, and a very aged man, who sat smoking a narghli near the door by + which the girl had made her exit, gravely waved towards us the amber + mouthpiece which he held in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Harley walked straight across to him, I close at his heels. The light of a + lamp which hung close by fell fully upon my friend's face; and, rising + from his seat, the old man greeted him with the dignified and graceful + salutation of the East. At his request we seated ourselves beside him, + and, while we all three smoked excellent Turkish cigarettes, Harley and he + conversed in a low tone. Suddenly, at some remark of my friend's, our + strange host rose to his feet, an angry frown contracting his heavy + eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + Silence fell upon the company. + </p> + <p> + In a loud and peremptory voice he called out something in Arabic. + </p> + <p> + Instantly I detected a fellow near the entrance door, and whom I had not + hitherto observed, slipping furtively into the shadow, with a view, as I + thought, to secret departure. He seemed to be deformed in some way and had + the most evil, pock-marked face I had ever beheld in my life. Angrily, the + majestic old man recalled him. Whereupon, with a sort of animal snarl + quite indescribable, the fellow plucked out a knife! Two men who had been + on the point of seizing him fell back, and: + </p> + <p> + “Hold him!” shouted Harley, springing forward—“hold him! It's Ali of + Cairo!” + </p> + <p> + But Harley was too late. Turning, the strange and formidable-looking + Oriental ran like the wind! Ere hand could be raised to stay him he was + through the doorway! + </p> + <p> + “That settles it,” said Harley grimly, as once more I found myself in a + cab beside him. “I was right; but he'll forestall us!” + </p> + <p> + “Who will forestall us?” I asked in bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “The biggest villain in Europe, Asia, or Africa!” cried my companion. “I + have wasted precious time to-day. I might have known.” He drummed + irritably upon his knees. “The place we have just left is a sort of club, + you understand, Knox, and Hakim is the proprietor or host as well as being + an old gentleman of importance and authority in the Moslem world. I told + him of my suspicions—which step I should have taken earlier—and + they were instantly confirmed. My man was there—recognized me—and + bolted! He'll forestall us.” + </p> + <p> + “But my dear fellow,” I said patiently—“who is this man, and what + has he to do with the Deepbrow case?” + </p> + <p> + “He is the blackest scoundrel breathing!” answered Harley bitterly. “As to + what he has to do with the case—why did he bolt? At any rate, I know + where to find him now—and we may not be too late after all.” + </p> + <p> + “But who and what is this man?” + </p> + <p> + “He is Ali of Cairo! As to what he is—you will soon learn.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <h3> + THE HOUSE BY THE RIVER + </h3> + <p> + On quitting the singular Oriental club, Harley had first raced off to a + public telephone, where he had spoken for some time—as I now divined—to + Scotland Yard. For when we presently arrived at the headquarters of the + Metropolitan Police, I was surprised to find Inspector Wessex awaiting us. + Leaning out of the cab window: + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” called Harley excitedly. “Was I right?” + </p> + <p> + “You were, Mr. Harley,” answered Wessex, who seemed to be no less excited + than my companion. “I got the man's reply an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it!” said Harley shortly. “Get in, Wessex; we haven't a minute to + waste.” + </p> + <p> + The Inspector joined us in the cab, having first given instructions to the + chauffeur. As we set out once more: + </p> + <p> + “You have had very little time to make the necessary arrangements,” + continued my friend. + </p> + <p> + “Time enough,” replied Wessex. “They will not be expecting us.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so sure of it. One of the biggest villains in the civilized world + recognized me three minutes before I called you up and then made good his + escape. However, there is at least a fighting chance.” + </p> + <p> + Little more was said from that moment until the end of the drive, both my + companions seeming to be consumed by an intense eagerness to reach our + destination. At last the cab drew up in a deserted street. I had rather + lost my bearings; but I knew that we were once more somewhere in the + Chinatown area, and: + </p> + <p> + “Follow us until we get into the house,” Harley said to Inspector Wessex, + “and wait out of sight. If you hear me blow this whistle, bring up the men + you have posted—as quick as you like! But make it your particular + business to see that no one gets out!” + </p> + <p> + Into a pitch-dark yard we turned, and I felt a shudder of apprehension + upon observing that it was the entrance to a wharf. Dully gleaming in the + moonlight, the Thames, that grave of many a ghastly secret, flowed beneath + us. Emerging from the shadow of the archway, we paused before a door in + the wall on our left. + </p> + <p> + At that moment something gleamed through the air, whizzed past my ear, and + fell with a metallic jingle on the stones! + </p> + <p> + Instinctively we both looked up. + </p> + <p> + At an unlighted window on the first floor I caught a fleeting glimpse of a + dark face. + </p> + <p> + “You were right!” I said. “Ali of Cairo has forestalled us!” + </p> + <p> + Harley stooped and picked up a knife with a broad and very curious blade. + He slipped it into his pocket, nonchalantly. + </p> + <p> + “All evidence!” he said. “Keep in the shadow and bend down. I am going to + stand on your shoulders and get into that window!” + </p> + <p> + Wondering at his daring, I nevertheless obeyed; and Harley succeeded, + although not without difficulty, in achieving his purpose. A moment after + he had disappeared in the blackness of the room above. + </p> + <p> + “Stand clear, Knox!” I heard. + </p> + <p> + Two of the cushion seats sometimes called “poof-ottomans” were thrown + down, and: + </p> + <p> + “Up you come!” called Harley. “I'll grasp your hands if you can reach.” + </p> + <p> + It proved no easy task, but I finally managed to scramble up beside my + friend—to find myself in a dark and stuffy little room. + </p> + <p> + “This way!” said Harley rapidly—“upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way without more ado, but it was with serious misgivings that I + stumbled up a darkened stair in the rear of my greatly daring friend. + </p> + <p> + A pistol cracked in the darkness—and my fez was no longer on my + head! + </p> + <p> + Harley's repeater answered, and we stumbled through a heavily curtained + door into a heated room, the air of which was laden with some Eastern + perfume. In the dim light from a silken-shaded lantern a figure showed, + momentarily, darting across the place before us. + </p> + <p> + Again Harley's pistol spoke, but, as it seemed, ineffectively. + </p> + <p> + I had little enough opportunity to survey my surroundings; yet even in + those brief, breathless moments I saw enough of the place wherein we stood + to make me doubt the evidence of my senses! Outside, I knew, lay a dingy + wharf, amid a maze of mean streets; here was an opulently furnished + apartment with a strong Oriental note in the decorations! + </p> + <p> + Snatching an electric torch from his pocket, Harley leaped through a + doorway draped with rich Persian tapestry, and I came close on his heels. + Outside was darkness. A strong draught met us; and, passing along a + carpeted corridor, we never halted until we came to a room filled with the + weirdest odds and ends, apparently collected from every quarter of the + globe. + </p> + <p> + Crack! + </p> + <p> + A bullet flattened itself on the wall behind us! + </p> + <p> + “Good job he can't shoot straight!” rapped Harley. + </p> + <p> + The ray of the torch suddenly picked out the head and shoulders of a man + who was descending through a trap in the floor! Ere we had time to shoot + he was gone! I saw his brown fingers relax their hold—and a bundle + which he had evidently hoped to take with him was left lying upon the + floor. + </p> + <p> + Together we ran to the trap and looked down. + </p> + <p> + Slowly moving tidal water flowed darkly beneath us! For twenty breathless + seconds we watched—but nothing showed upon the surface. + </p> + <p> + “I hope his swimming is no better than his shooting,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “It can avail him little,” replied Harley grimly; “a river-police boat is + waiting for anyone who tries to escape from that side of the house. We are + by no means alone in this affair, Knox. But, firstly, what have we here!” + He took up the bundle which the fugitive had deserted. “Something + incriminating when Ali of Cairo dared not stay to face it out! He would + never have deserted this place in the ordinary way. That fellow who was + such a bad shot was left behind, when the news of our approach reached + here, to make a desperate attempt to remove some piece of evidence! I'll + swear to it. But we were too soon for him!” + </p> + <p> + All the time he was busily removing the pieces of sacking and scraps of + Oriental stuff with which the bundle was fastened; and finally he drew out + a dress-suit, together with the linen, collar, shoes, and underwear—a + complete outfit, in fact—and on top of the whole was a soft gray + felt hat! + </p> + <p> + Eagerly Harley searched the garments for some name of a maker by which + their owner might be identified. Presently, inside the lining of the + breast pocket, where such a mark is usually found, he discovered the label + of a well-known West End firm. + </p> + <p> + “The police can confirm it, Knox!” he said, looking up, his face slightly + flushed with triumph; “but I, personally, have no doubt!” + </p> + <p> + “You may have no doubt, Harley,” I retorted, “but I am full of doubt! What + is the significance of this discovery to which you seem to attach so much + importance?” + </p> + <p> + “At the moment,” replied my friend, “never mind; I still have hopes—although + they have grown somewhat slender—of making a much more important + discovery.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not permit the police to aid in the search?” + </p> + <p> + “The police are more useful in their present occupation,” he replied. “We + are dealing with the most cunning knave produced by East or West, and I + don't mean to let him slip through my fingers if he is in this house! + Nevertheless, Knox, I am submitting you to rather an appalling risk, I + know; for our man is desperate, and if he is still in the place will prove + as dangerous as a cornered rat.” + </p> + <p> + “But the man who dropped through the trap?” + </p> + <p> + “The man who dropped through the trap,” said Harley, “was not Ali of Cairo—and + it is Ali of Cairo for whom I am looking!” + </p> + <p> + “The hunchback we saw to-night?” + </p> + <p> + Harley nodded, and having listened intently for a few moments, proceeded + again to search the singular apartments of the abode. In each was evidence + of Oriental occupancy; indeed, some of the rooms possessed a sort of + Arabian Nights atmosphere. But no living creature was to be seen or heard + anywhere. It was while the two of us, having examined every inch of wall, + I should think, in the building, were standing staring rather blankly at + each other in the room with the lighted lantern, that I saw Harley's + expression change. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he muttered, “is this one room illuminated—and all the others + in darkness?” + </p> + <p> + Even then the significance of this circumstance was not apparent to me. + But Harley stared critically at an electric switch which was placed on the + immediate right of the door and then up at the silk-shaded lantern which + lighted the room. Crossing, he raised and lowered the switch rapidly, but + the lamp continued to burn uninterruptedly! + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said—“a good trick!” + </p> + <p> + Grasping the wooden block to which the switch was attached, he turned it + bodily—and I saw that it was a masked knob; for in the next moment + he had pulled open the narrow section of wall—which proved to be + nothing less than a cunningly fitted door! + </p> + <p> + A small, dimly lighted apartment was revealed, the Oriental note still + predominant in its appointments, which, however, were few, and which I + scarcely paused to note. For lying upon a mattress in this place was a + pretty, fair-haired girl! + </p> + <p> + She lay on her side, having one white arm thrown out and resting limply on + the floor, and she seemed to be in a semi-conscious condition, for + although her fine eyes were widely opened, they had a glassy, witless + look, and she was evidently unaware of our presence. + </p> + <p> + “Look at her pupils,” rapped Harley. “They have drugged her with bhang! + Poor, pretty fool!” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” I cried. “Who is this, Harley?” + </p> + <p> + “Molly Clayton!” he answered. “Thank heaven we have saved one victim from + Ali of Cairo.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <h3> + THE HAREM AGENCY + </h3> + <p> + Owing to the instrumentality of Paul Harley, the public never learned that + the awful riverside murder called by the Press in reference to the + victim's shaven skull “the barber atrocity” had any relation to the + Deepbrow case. It was physically impossible to identify the victim, and + Harley had his own reasons for concealing the truth. The house on the + wharf with its choice Oriental furniture was seized by the police; but, + strange to relate, no arrest was made in connection with this most + gruesome outrage. The man who dropped through the trap had been wounded by + one of Harley's shots, and he sank for the last time under the very eyes + of the crew of the police cutter. + </p> + <p> + It was at a late hour on the night of this concluding tragedy that I + learned the amazing truth underlying the case. Wessex was still at work in + the East End upon the hundred and one formalities which attached to his + office, and Harley and I sat in the study of my friend's chambers in + Chancery Lane. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” Harley was explaining. “I got my first clue down at Deepbrow. + The tracks leading to the motor-car. They showed—to anyone not + hampered by a preconceived opinion—that the girl and Vane had not + gone on together (since the man's footprints proved him to have been + running), but that she had gone first and that he had run after her! + Arguments: (a) He heard the approach of the car; or (b) he heard her call + for help. In fact, it almost immediately became evident to me that someone + else had met her at the end of the lane; probably someone who expected + her, and whom she was going to meet when she, accidentally, encountered + Vane! The captain was not attired for an elopement, and, more significant + still, he said he should stroll to the Deep Wood, and that was where he + did stroll to; for it borders the road at this point! + </p> + <p> + “I had privately ascertained, from the postman, that Molly Clayton + actually received a letter on that morning! This resolved my last doubt. + She was not going to meet Vane on the night of her disappearance. + </p> + <p> + “Then whom?” + </p> + <p> + “The old love! He who some months earlier had had over fifty seductive + pictures of this undoubtedly pretty girl prepared for a purpose of his + own!” + </p> + <p> + “Vane interfered?” + </p> + <p> + “When the girl saw that they meant to take her away, she no doubt made a + fuss! He ran to the rescue! They had not reckoned on his being there, but + these are clever villains, who leave no clues—except for one who has + met them on their own ground!” + </p> + <p> + “On their own ground! What do you mean, Harley? Who are these people?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—where do you suppose those fifty photographs went?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot conjecture!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will tell you. The turmoil in the East has put wealth and power + into unscrupulous hands. But even before the war there were marts, Knox—open + marts—at which a Negro girl might be purchased for some 30 pounds, + and a Circassian for anything from 250 pounds to 500 pounds! Ah! You + stare! But I assure you it was so. Here is the point, though: there were, + and still are, private dealers! Those photographs were circulated among + the nouveaux riches of the East! They were employed in the same way that + any other merchant employs a catalogue. They reached the hands of many an + opulent and abandoned 'profiteer' of Damascus, Stambul—where you + will. Molly's picture would be one of many. Remember that hundreds of + pretty girls disappear from their homes—taking the whole of the + world—every year. Clearly, English beauty is popular at the moment! + And,” he added bitterly, “the arch-villain has escaped!” + </p> + <p> + “Ali of Cairo!” I cried. “Then Ali of Cairo———” + </p> + <p> + “Is the biggest slave-dealer in the East!” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! Harley—at last I understand!” + </p> + <p> + “I was slow enough to understand it myself, Knox. But once the theory + presented itself I asked Wessex to get into immediate touch with the valet + he had already interviewed at Deepbrow. It was the result of his inquiry + to which he referred when we met him at Scotland Yard to-night. Captain + Vane had a large mole on his shoulder and a girl's name, together with a + small device, tattooed on his forearm—a freak of his Sandhurst days———” + </p> + <p> + “Then 'the man with the shaven skull'———” + </p> + <p> + “Is Captain Ronald Vane! May he rest in peace. But I never shall until the + crook-back dealer in humanity has met his just deserts.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WHITE HAT + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + MAJOR JACK RAGSTAFF + </h3> + <p> + “Hallo! Innes,” said Paul Harley as his secretary entered. “Someone is + making a devil of a row outside.” + </p> + <p> + “This is the offender, Mr. Harley,” said Innes, and handed my friend a + visiting card. + </p> + <p> + Glancing at the card, Harley read aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Major J. E. P. Ragstaff, Cavalry Club.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile a loud harsh voice, which would have been audible in a full + gale, was roaring in the lobby. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” I could hear the Major shouting. “Balderdash! There's more + fuss than if I had asked for an interview with the Prime Minister. Piffle! + Balderdash!” + </p> + <p> + Innes's smile developed into a laugh, in which Harley joined, then: + </p> + <p> + “Admit the Major,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Into the study where Harley and I had been seated quietly smoking, there + presently strode a very choleric Anglo-Indian. He wore a horsy check suit + and white spats, and his tie closely resembled a stock. In his hand he + carried a heavy malacca cane, gloves, and one of those tall, light-gray + hats commonly termed white. He was below medium height, slim and wiry; his + gait and the shape of his legs, his build, all proclaimed the dragoon. His + complexion was purple, and the large white teeth visible beneath a + bristling gray moustache added to the natural ferocity of his appearance. + Standing just within the doorway: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Paul Harley?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + It was apparently an inquiry, but it sounded like a reprimand. + </p> + <p> + My friend, standing before the fireplace, his hands in his pockets and his + pipe in his mouth, nodded brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “I am Paul Harley,” he said. “Won't you sit down?” + </p> + <p> + Major Ragstaff, glancing angrily at Innes as the latter left the study, + tossed his stick and gloves on to a settee, and drawing up a chair seated + himself stiffly upon it as though he were in a saddle. He stared straight + at Harley, and: + </p> + <p> + “You are not the sort of person I expected, sir,” he declared. “May I ask + if it is your custom to keep clients dancin' on the mat and all that—on + the blasted mat, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Harley suppressed a smile, and I hastily reached for my cigarette-case + which I had placed upon the mantelshelf. + </p> + <p> + “I am always naturally pleased to see clients, Major Ragstaff,” said + Harley, “but a certain amount of routine is necessary even in civilian + life. You had not advised me of your visit, and it is contrary to my + custom to discuss business after five o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + As Harley spoke the Major glared at him continuously, and then: + </p> + <p> + “I've seen you in India!” he roared; “damme! I've seen you in India!—and, + yes! in Turkey! Ha! I've got you now sir!” He sprang to his feet. “You're + the Harley who was in Constantinople in 1912.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I've come to the wrong shop.” + </p> + <p> + “That remains to be seen, Major.” + </p> + <p> + “But I was told you were a private detective, and all that.” + </p> + <p> + “So I am,” said Harley quietly. “In 1912 the Foreign Office was my client. + I am now at the service of anyone who cares to employ me.” + </p> + <p> + “Hell!” said the Major. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be temporarily stricken speechless by the discovery that a + man who had acted for the British Government should be capable of stooping + to the work of a private inquiry agent. Staring all about the room with a + sort of naive wonderment, he drew out a big silk handkerchief and loudly + blew his nose, all the time eyeing Harley questioningly. Replacing his + handkerchief he directed his regard upon me, and: + </p> + <p> + “This is my friend, Mr. Knox,” said Harley; “you may state your case + before him without hesitation, unless———” + </p> + <p> + I rose to depart, but: + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Mr. Knox! Sit down, sir!” shouted the Major. “I have no dirty + linen to wash, no skeletons in the cupboard or piffle of that kind. I + simply want something explained which I am too thick-headed—too + damned thick-headed, sir—to explain myself.” + </p> + <p> + He resumed his seat, and taking out his wallet extracted from it a small + newspaper cutting which he offered to Harley. + </p> + <p> + “Read that, Mr. Harley,” he directed. “Read it aloud.” + </p> + <p> + Harley read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Before Mr. Smith, at Marlborough Street Police Court, John Edward Bampton + was charged with assaulting a well-known clubman in Bond Street on + Wednesday evening. It was proved by the constable who made the arrest that + robbery had not been the motive of the assault, and Bampton confessed that + he bore no grudge against the assailed man, indeed, that he had never seen + him before. He pleaded intoxication, and the police surgeon testified that + although not actually intoxicated, his breath had smelled strongly of + liquor at the time of his arrest. Bampton's employers testified to a + hitherto blameless character, and as the charge was not pressed the man + was dismissed with a caution.” + </p> + <p> + Having read the paragraph, Harley glanced at the Major with a puzzled + expression. + </p> + <p> + “The point of this quite escapes me,” he confessed. + </p> + <p> + “Is that so?” said Major Ragstaff. “Is that so, sir? Perhaps you will be + good enough to read this.” + </p> + <p> + From his wallet he took a second newspaper cutting, smaller than the + first, and gummed to a sheet of club notepaper. Harley took it and read as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. De Lana, a well-known member of the Stock Exchange, who met with a + serious accident recently, is still in a precarious condition.” + </p> + <p> + The puzzled look on Harley's face grew more acute, and the Major watched + him with an expression which I can only describe as one of fierce + enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + “You're thinkin' I'm a damned old fool, ain't you?” he shouted suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely that,” said Harley, smiling slightly, “but the significance of + these paragraphs is not apparent, I must confess. The man Bampton would + not appear to be an interesting character, and since no great damage has + been done, his drunken frolic hardly comes within my sphere. Of Mr. De + Lana, of the Stock Exchange, I never heard, unless he happens to be a + member of the firm of De Lana and Day?” + </p> + <p> + “He's not a member of that firm, sir,” shouted the Major. “He was, up to + six o'clock this evenin'.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean exactly?” inquired Harley, and the tone of his voice + suggested that he was beginning to entertain doubts of the Major's sanity + or sobriety; then: + </p> + <p> + “He's dead!” declared the latter. “Dead as the Begum of Bangalore! He died + at six o'clock. I've just spoken to his widow on the telephone.” + </p> + <p> + I suppose I must have been staring very hard at the speaker, and certainly + Harley was doing so, for suddenly directing his fierce gaze toward me: + </p> + <p> + “You're completely treed, sir, and so's your friend!” shouted Major + Ragstaff. + </p> + <p> + “I confess it,” replied Harley quietly; “and since my time is of some + little value I would suggest, without disrespect, that you explain the + connection, if any, between yourself, the drunken Bampton, and Mr. De + Lana, of the Stock Exchange, who died, you inform us, at six o'clock this + evening as the result, presumably, of injuries received in an accident.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I'm here for!” cried Major Ragstaff. “In the first place, + then, I am the party, although I saw to it that my name was kept out of + print, whom the drunken lunatic assaulted.” + </p> + <p> + Harley, pipe in hand, stared at the speaker perplexedly. + </p> + <p> + “Understand me,” continued the Major, “I am the person—I, Jack + Ragstaff—he assaulted. I was walkin' down from my quarters in Maddox + Street on my way to dine at the club, same as I do every night o' my life, + when this flamin' idiot sprang upon me, grabbed my hat”—he took up + his white hat to illustrate what had occurred—“not this one, but one + like it—pitched it on the ground and jumped on it!” + </p> + <p> + Harley was quite unable to conceal his smiles as the excited old soldier + dropped his conspicuous head-gear on the floor and indulged in a vigorous + pantomime designed to illustrate his statement. + </p> + <p> + “Most extraordinary,” said Harley. “What did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “What did I do?” roared the Major. “I gave him a crack on the head with my + cane, and I said things to him which couldn't be repeated in court. I + punched him, and likewise hoofed him, but the hat was completely done in. + Damn crowd collected, hearin' me swearin' and bellowin'. Police and all + that; names an' addresses and all that balderdash. Man lugged away to + guard-room and me turnin' up at the club with no hat. Damn ridiculous + spectacle at my time of life.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” said Harley soothingly; “I appreciate your annoyance, but I am + utterly at a loss to understand why you have come here, and what all this + has to do with Mr. De Lana, of the Stock Exchange.” + </p> + <p> + “He fell out of the window!” shouted the Major. + </p> + <p> + “Fell out of a window?” + </p> + <p> + “Out of a window, sir, a second floor window ten yards up a side street! + Pitched on his skull—marvel he wasn't killed outright!” + </p> + <p> + A faint expression of interest began to creep into Harley's glance, and: + </p> + <p> + “I understand you to mean, Major Ragstaff,” he said deliberately, “that + while your struggle with the drunken man was in progress Mr. De Lana fell + out of a neighbouring window into the street?” + </p> + <p> + “Right!” shouted the Major. “Right, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know this Mr. De Lana?” + </p> + <p> + “Never heard of him in my life until the accident occurred. Seems to me + the poor devil leaned out to see the fun and overbalanced. Felt + responsible, only natural, and made inquiries. He died at six o'clock this + evenin', sir.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm,” said Harley reflectively. “I still fail to see where I come in. + From what window did he fall?” + </p> + <p> + “Window above a sort of teashop, called Cafe Dame—damn silly name. + Place on a corner. Don't know name of side street.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm. You don't think he was pushed out, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not!” shouted the Major; “he just fell out, but the point is, + he's dead!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” said Harley patiently, “I don't dispute that point; but + what on earth do you want of me?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what I want!” roared the Major, beginning to walk up and + down the room, “but I know I ain't satisfied, not easy in my mind, sir. I + wake up of a night hearin' the poor devil's yell as he crashed on the + pavement. That's all wrong. I've heard hundreds of death-yells, but”—he + took up his malacca cane and beat it loudly on the table—“I haven't + woke up of a night dreamin' I heard 'em again.” + </p> + <p> + “In a word, you suspect foul play?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't suspect anything!” cried the other excitedly, “but someone + mentioned your name to me at the club—said you could see through + concrete, and all that—and here I am. There's something wrong, + radically wrong. Find out what it is and send the bill to me. Then perhaps + I'll be able to sleep in peace.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and again taking out the large silk handkerchief blew his nose + loudly. Harley glanced at me in rather an odd way, and then: + </p> + <p> + “There will be no bill, Major Ragstaff,” he said; “but if I can see any + possible line of inquiry I will pursue it and report the result to you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + A CURIOUS OUTRAGE + </h3> + <p> + “What do you make of it, Harley?” I asked. Paul Harley returned a work of + reference to its shelf and stood staring absently across the study. + </p> + <p> + “Our late visitor's history does not help us much,” he replied. “A + somewhat distinguished army career, and so forth, and his only daughter, + Sybil Margaret, married the fifth Marquis of Ireton. She is, therefore, + the noted society beauty, the Marchioness of Ireton. Does this suggest + anything to your mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever,” I said blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Nor to mine,” murmured Harley. + </p> + <p> + The telephone bell rang. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” called Harley. “Yes. That you, Wessex? Have you got the address? + Good. No, I shall remember it. Many thanks. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to me. + </p> + <p> + “I suggest, Knox,” he said, “that we make our call and then proceed to + dinner as arranged.” + </p> + <p> + Since I was always glad of an opportunity of studying my friend's methods + I immediately agreed, and ere long, leaving the lights of the two big + hotels behind, our cab was gliding down the long slope which leads to + Waterloo Station. Thence through crowded, slummish high-roads we made our + way via Lambeth to that dismal thoroughfare, Westminster Bridge Road, with + its forbidding, often windowless, houses, and its peculiar air of + desolation. + </p> + <p> + The house for which we were bound was situated at no great distance from + Kensington Park, and telling the cabman to wait, Harley and I walked up a + narrow, paved path, mounted a flight of steps, and rang the bell beside a + somewhat time-worn door, above which was an old-fashioned fanlight dimly + illuminated from within. + </p> + <p> + A considerable interval elapsed before the door was opened by a + marvellously untidy servant girl who had apparently been interrupted in + the act of black-leading her face. Partly opening the door, she stared at + us agape, pushing back wisps of hair from her eyes and with every movement + daubing more of some mysterious black substance upon her countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Bampton in?” asked Harley. + </p> + <p> + “Yus, just come in. I'm cookin' his supper.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him that two friends of his have called on rather important + business.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the black-faced one. “What name is it?” + </p> + <p> + “No name. Just say two friends of his.” + </p> + <p> + Treating us to a long, vacant stare and leaving us standing on the step, + the maid (in whose hand I perceived a greasy fork) shuffled along the + passage and began to mount the stairs. An unmistakable odour of frying + sausages now reached my nostrils. Harley glanced at me quizzically, but + said nothing until the Cinderella came stumbling downstairs again. Without + returning to where we stood: + </p> + <p> + “Go up,” she directed. “Second floor, front. Shut the door, one of yer.” + </p> + <p> + She disappeared into gloomy depths below as Harley and I, closing the door + behind us, proceeded to avail ourselves of the invitation. There was very + little light on the staircase, but we managed to find our way to a poorly + furnished bed-sitting-room where a small table was spread for a meal. + Beside the table, in a chintz-covered arm-chair, a thick-set young man was + seated smoking a cigarette and having a copy of the Daily Telegraph upon + his knees. + </p> + <p> + He was a very typical lower middle-class, nothing-in-particular young man, + but there was a certain truculence indicated by his square jaw, and that + sort of self-possession which sometimes accompanies physical strength was + evidenced in his manner as, tossing the paper aside, he stood up. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, Mr. Bampton,” said Harley genially. “I take it”—pointing + to the newspaper—“that you are looking for a new job?” + </p> + <p> + Bampton stared, a suspicion of anger in his eyes, then, meeting the amused + glance of my friend, he broke into a smile very pleasing and humorous. He + was a fresh-coloured young fellow with hair inclined to redness, and + smiling he looked very boyish indeed. + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea who you are,” he said, speaking with a faint north-country + accent, “but you evidently know who I am and what has happened to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Got the boot?” asked Harley confidentially. + </p> + <p> + Bampton, tossing the end of his cigarette into the grate, nodded grimly. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't told me your name,” he said, “but I think I can tell you your + business.” He ceased smiling. “Now look here, I don't want any more + publicity. If you think you are going to make a funny newspaper story out + of me change your mind as quick as you like. I'll never get another job in + London as it is. If you drag me any further into the limelight I'll never + get another job in England.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” replied Harley soothingly, at the same time extending + his cigarette-case, “you misapprehend the object of my call. I am not a + reporter.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Bampton, pausing in the act of taking a cigarette, “then what + the devil are you?” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Paul Harley, and I am a criminal investigator.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke the words deliberately, having his eyes fixed upon the other's + face; but although Bampton was palpably startled there was no trace of + fear in his straightforward glance. He took a cigarette from the case, + and: + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Mr. Harley,” he said. “I cannot imagine what business has brought + you here.” + </p> + <p> + “I have come to ask you two questions,” was the reply. “Number one: Who + paid you to smash Major Ragstaff's white hat? Number two: How much did he + pay you?” + </p> + <p> + To these questions I listened in amazement, and my amazement was evidently + shared by Bampton. He had been in the act of lighting his cigarette, but + he allowed the match to burn down nearly to his fingers and then dropped + it with a muttered exclamation in the fire. Finally: + </p> + <p> + “I don't know how you found out,” he said, “but you evidently know the + truth. Provided you assure me that you are not out to make a silly-season + newspaper story, I'll tell you all I know.” + </p> + <p> + Harley laid his card on the table, and: + </p> + <p> + “Unless the ends of justice demand it,” he said, “I give you my word that + anything you care to say will go no further. You may speak freely before + my friend, Mr. Knox. Simply tell me in as few words as possible what led + you to court arrest in that manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Right,” replied Bampton, “I will.” He half closed his eyes, reflectively. + “I was having tea in the Lyons' cafe, to which I always go, last Monday + afternoon about four o'clock, when a man sat down facing me and got into + conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “Describe him!” + </p> + <p> + “He was a man rather above medium height. I should say about my own build; + dark, going gray. He had a neat moustache and a short beard, and the look + of a man who had travelled a lot. His skin was very tanned, almost as + deeply as yours, Mr. Harley. Not at all the sort of chap that goes in + there as a rule. After a while he made an extraordinary proposal. At first + I thought he was joking, then when I grasped the idea that he was serious + I concluded he was mad. He asked me how much a year I earned, and I told + him Peters and Peters paid me 150 pounds. He said: 'I'll give you a year's + salary to knock a man's hat off!'” + </p> + <p> + As Bampton spoke the words he glanced at us with twinkling eyes, but + although for my own part I was merely amused, Harley's expression had + grown very stern. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I laughed,” continued Bampton, “but when the man drew out a + fat wallet and counted ten five-pound notes on the table I began to think + seriously about his proposal. Even supposing he was cracked, it was + absolutely money for nothing. + </p> + <p> + “'Of course,' he said, 'you'll lose your job and you may be arrested, but + you'll say that you had been out with a few friends and were a little + excited, also that you never could stand white hats. Stick to that story + and the balance of a hundred pounds will reach you on the following + morning.' + </p> + <p> + “I asked him for further particulars, and I asked him why he had picked me + for the job. He replied that he had been looking for some time for the + right man; a man who was strong enough physically to accomplish the thing, + and someone”—Bampton's eyes twinkled again—“with a dash of the + devil in him, but at the same time a man who could be relied upon to stick + to his guns and not to give the game away. + </p> + <p> + “You asked me to be brief, and I'll try to be. The man in the white hat + was described to me, and the exact time and place of the meeting. I just + had to grab his white hat, smash it, and face the music. I agreed. I don't + deny that I had a couple of stiff drinks before I set out, but the memory + of that fifty pounds locked up here in my room and the further hundred + promised, bucked me up wonderfully. It was impossible to mistake my man; I + could see him coming toward me as I waited just outside a sort of little + restaurant called the Cafe Dame. As arranged, I bumped into him, grabbed + his hat and jumped on it.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, raising his hand to his head reminiscently. + </p> + <p> + “My man was a bit of a scrapper,” he continued, “and he played hell. I've + never heard such language in my life, and the way he laid about me with + his cane is something I am not likely to forget in a hurry. A crowd + gathered, naturally, and (also naturally) I was 'pinched.' That didn't + matter much. I got off lightly; and although I've been dismissed by Peters + and Peters, twenty crisp fivers are locked in my trunk there, with the ten + which I received in the City.” + </p> + <p> + Harley checked him, and: + </p> + <p> + “May I see the envelope in which they arrived?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry,” replied Bampton, “but I burned it. I thought it was playing the + game to do so. It wouldn't have helped you much, though,” he added; “It + was an ordinary common envelope, posted in the City, address typewritten, + and not a line enclosed.” + </p> + <p> + “Registered?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Bampton stood looking at us with a curious expression on his face, and + suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “There's one point,” he said, “on which my conscience isn't easy. You know + about that poor devil who fell out of a window? Well, it would never have + happened if I hadn't kicked up a row in the street. There's no doubt he + was leaning out to see what the disturbance was about when the accident + occurred.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you actually see him fall?” asked Harley. + </p> + <p> + “No. He fell from a window several yards behind me in the side street, but + I heard him cry out, and as I was lugged off by the police I heard the + bell of the ambulance which came to fetch him.” + </p> + <p> + He paused again and stood rubbing his head ruefully. + </p> + <p> + “H'm,” said Harley; “was there anything particularly remarkable about this + man in the Lyons' cafe?” + </p> + <p> + Bampton reflected silently for some moments, and then: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing much,” he confessed. “He was evidently a gentleman, wore a blue + top-coat, a dark tweed suit, and what looked like a regimental tie, but I + didn't see much of the colours. He was very tanned, as I have said, even + to the backs of his hands—and oh, yes! there was one point: He had a + gold-covered tooth.” + </p> + <p> + “Which tooth?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't remember, except that it was on the left side, and I always + noticed it when he smiled.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he wear any ring or pin which you would recognize?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Had he any oddity of speech or voice?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Just a heavy, drawling manner. He spoke like thousands of other + cultured Englishmen. But wait a minute—yes! There was one other + point. Now I come to think of it, his eyes very slightly slanted upward.” + </p> + <p> + Harley stared. + </p> + <p> + “Like a Chinaman's?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing so marked as that. But the same sort of formation.” + </p> + <p> + Harley nodded briskly and buttoned up his overcoat. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Mr. Bampton,” he said; “we will detain you no longer!” + </p> + <p> + As we descended the stairs, where the smell of frying sausages had given + place to that of something burning—probably the sausages: + </p> + <p> + “I was half inclined to think that Major Ragstaff's ideas were traceable + to a former touch of the sun,” said Harley. “I begin to believe that he + has put us on the track of a highly unusual crime. I am sorry to delay + dinner, Knox, but I propose to call at the Cafe Dame.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <h3> + A CRIMINAL GENIUS + </h3> + <p> + On entering the doorway of the Cafe Dame we found ourselves in a narrow + passage. In front of us was a carpeted stair, and to the right a + glass-panelled door communicating with a discreetly lighted little dining + room which seemed to be well patronized. Opening the door Harley beckoned + to a waiter, and: + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see the proprietor,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Meyer is engaged at the moment, sir,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “In his office upstairs, sir. He will be down in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + The waiter hurried away, and Harley stood glancing up the stairs as if in + doubt what to do. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot imagine how such a place can pay,” he muttered. “The rent must + be enormous in this district.” + </p> + <p> + But even before he ceased speaking I became aware of an excited + conversation which was taking place in some apartment above. + </p> + <p> + “It's scandalous!” I heard, in a woman's shrill voice. “You have no right + to keep it! It's not your property, and I'm here to demand that you give + it up.” + </p> + <p> + A man's voice replied in voluble broken English, but I could only + distinguish a word here and there. I saw that Harley was interested, for + catching my questioning glance, he raised his finger to his lips enjoining + me to be silent. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's the game, is it?” continued the female voice. “Of course you + know it's blackmail?” + </p> + <p> + A flow of unintelligible words answered this speech, then: + </p> + <p> + “I shall come back with someone,” cried the invisible woman, “who will + make you give it up!” + </p> + <p> + “Knox,” whispered Harley in my ear, “when that woman comes down, follow + her! I'm afraid you will bungle the business, and I would not ask you to + attempt it if big things were not at stake. Return here; I shall wait.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, his sudden request had positively astounded me, but + ere I had time for any reply a door suddenly banged open above and a + respectable-looking woman, who might have been some kind of upper servant, + came quickly down the stairs. An expression of intense indignation rested + upon her face, and without seeming to notice our presence she brushed past + us and went out into the street. + </p> + <p> + “Off you go, Knox!” said Harley. + </p> + <p> + Seeing myself committed to an unpleasant business, I slipped out of the + doorway and detected the woman five or six yards away hurrying in the + direction of Piccadilly. I had no difficulty in following her, for she was + evidently unsuspicious of my presence, and when presently she mounted a + westward-bound 'bus I did likewise, but while she got inside I went on + top, and occupied a seat on the near side whence I could observe anyone + leaving the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + If I had not known Paul Harley so well I should have counted the whole + business a ridiculous farce, but recognizing that something underlay these + seemingly trivial and disconnected episodes, I lighted a cigarette and + resigned myself to circumstance. + </p> + <p> + At Hyde Park Corner I saw the woman descending, and when presently she + walked up Hamilton Place I was not far behind her. At the door of an + imposing mansion she stopped, and in response to a ring of the bell the + door was opened by a footman, and the woman hurried in. Evidently she was + an inmate of the establishment; and conceiving that my duty was done when + I had noted the number of the house, I retraced my steps to the corner; + and, hailing a taxicab, returned to the Cafe Dame. + </p> + <p> + On inquiring of the same waiter whom Harley had accosted whether my friend + was there: + </p> + <p> + “I think a gentleman is upstairs with Mr. Meyer,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “In his office?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon I mounted the stairs and before a half-open door paused. + Harley's voice was audible within, and therefore I knocked and entered. + </p> + <p> + I discovered Harley standing by an American desk. Beside him in a + revolving chair which, with the desk, constituted the principal furniture + of a tiny office, sat a man in a dress-suit which had palpably not been + made for him. He had a sullen and suspiciously Teutonic cast of + countenance, and he was engaged in a voluble but hardly intelligible + speech as I entered. + </p> + <p> + “Ha, Knox!” said Harley, glancing over his shoulder, “did you manage?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + Harley nodded shortly and turned again to the man in the chair. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to give you so much trouble, Mr. Meyer,” he said, “but I + should like my friend here to see the room above.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment my attention was attracted by a singular object which lay + upon the desk amongst a litter of bills and accounts. This was a piece of + rusty iron bar somewhat less than three feet in length, and which once had + been painted green. + </p> + <p> + “You are looking at this tragic fragment, Knox,” said Harley, taking up + the bar. “Of course”—he shrugged his shoulders—“it explains + the whole unfortunate occurrence. You see there was a flaw in the metal at + this end, here”—he indicated the spot—“and the other end had + evidently worn loose in its socket.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “It will all be made clear at the inquest, no doubt. A most unfortunate + thing for you, Mr. Meyer.” + </p> + <p> + “Most unfortunate,” declared the proprietor of the restaurant, extending + his thick hands pathetically. “Most ruinous to my business.” + </p> + <p> + “We will go upstairs now,” said Harley. “You will kindly lead the way, Mr. + Meyer, and the whole thing will be quite clear to you, Knox.” + </p> + <p> + As the proprietor walked out of the office and upstairs to the second + floor Harley whispered in my ear: + </p> + <p> + “Where did she go?” + </p> + <p> + “No. —— Hamilton Place,” I replied in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” muttered my friend, and clutched my arm so tightly that I + winced. “Good God! The master touch, Knox! This crime was the work of a + genius—of a genius with slightly, very slightly, oblique eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Opening a door on the second landing, Mr. Meyer admitted us to a small + supper-room. Its furniture consisted of a round dining table, several + chairs, a couch, and very little else. I observed, however, that the + furniture, carpet, and a few other appointments were of a character much + more elegant than those of the public room below. A window which + overlooked the street was open, so that the plush curtains which had been + drawn aside moved slightly to and fro in the draught. + </p> + <p> + “The window of the tragedy, Knox,” explained Harley. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the room. + </p> + <p> + “If you will stand here beside me you will see the gap in the railing + caused by the breaking away of the fragment which now lies on Mr. Meyer's + desk. Some few yards to the left in the street below is where the assault + took place, of which we have heard, and the unfortunate Mr. De Lana, who + was dining here alone—an eccentric custom of his—naturally ran + to the window upon hearing the disturbance and leaned out, supporting his + weight upon the railing. The rail collapsed, and—we know the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “It will ruin me,” groaned Meyer; “it will give bad repute to my + establishment.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear it will,” agreed Harley sympathetically, “unless we can manage to + clear up one or two little difficulties which I have observed. For + instance”—he tapped the proprietor on the shoulder confidentially—“have + you any idea, any hazy idea, of the identity of the woman who was dining + here with Mr. De Lana on Wednesday night?” + </p> + <p> + The effect of this simple inquiry upon the proprietor was phenomenal. His + fat yellow face assumed a sort of leaden hue, and his already prominent + eyes protruded abnormally. He licked his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you—already I tell you,” he muttered, “that Mr. De Lana he + engage this room every Wednesday and sometimes also Friday, and dine here + by himself.” + </p> + <p> + “And I tell you,” said Harley sweetly, “that you are an inspired liar. You + smuggled her out by the side entrance after the accident.” + </p> + <p> + “The side entrance?” muttered Meyer. “The side entrance?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly; the side entrance. There is something else which I must ask you + to tell me. Who had engaged this room on Tuesday night, the night before + the accident?” + </p> + <p> + The proprietor's expression remained uncomprehending, and: + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman,” he said. “I never see him before.” + </p> + <p> + “Another solitary diner?” suggested Harley. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is alone all the evening waiting for a friend who does not + arrive.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” mused Harley—“alone all the evening, was he? And his friend + disappointed him. May I suggest that he was a dark man? Gray at the + temples, having a dark beard and moustache, and a very tanned face? His + eyes slanted slightly upward?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! yes!” cried Meyer, and his astonishment was patently unfeigned. “It + is a friend of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “A friend of mine, yes,” said Harley absently, but his expression was very + grim. “What time did he finally leave?” + </p> + <p> + “He waited until after eleven o'clock. The dinner is spoilt. He pays, but + does not complain.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Harley musingly, “he had nothing to complain about. One more + question, my friend. When the lady escaped hurriedly on Wednesday night, + what was it that she left behind and what price are you trying to extort + from her for returning it?” + </p> + <p> + At that the man collapsed entirely. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Gott!” he cried, and raised his hand to his clammy forehead. “You + will ruin me. I am a ruined man. I don't try to extort anything. I run an + honest business———” + </p> + <p> + “And one of the most profitable in the world,” added Harley, “since the + days of Thais to our own. Even at Bond Street rentals I assume that a + house of assignation is a golden enterprise.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” groaned Meyer, “I am ruined, so what does it matter? I tell you + everything. I know Mr. De Lana who engages my room regularly, but I don't + know who the lady is who meets him here. No! I swear it! But always it is + the same lady. When he falls I am downstairs in my office, and I hear him + cry out. The lady comes running from the room and begs of me to get her + away without being seen and to keep all mention of her out of the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “What did she pay you?” asked Harley. + </p> + <p> + “Pay me?” muttered Meyer, pulled up thus shortly in the midst of his + statement. + </p> + <p> + “Pay you. Exactly. Don't argue; answer.” + </p> + <p> + The man delivered himself of a guttural, choking sound, and finally: + </p> + <p> + “She promised one hundred pounds,” he confessed hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “But you surely did not accept a mere promise? Out with it. What did she + give you?” + </p> + <p> + “A ring,” came the confession at last. + </p> + <p> + “A ring. I see. I will take it with me if you don't mind. And now, + finally, what was it that she left behind?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Gott!” moaned the man, dropping into a chair and resting his arms + upon the table. “It is all a great panic, you see. I hurry her out by the + back stair from this landing and she forgets her bag.” + </p> + <p> + “Her bag? Good.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I clear away the remains of dinner so I can say Mr. De Lana is + dining alone. It is as much my interest as the lady's.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! I quite understand. I will trouble you no more, Mr. Meyer, + except to step into your office and to relieve you of that incriminating + evidence, the lady's bag and her ring.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <h3> + THE SLANTING EYES + </h3> + <p> + “Do you understand, Knox?” said Harley as the cab bore us toward Hamilton + Place. “Do you grasp the details of this cunning scheme?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” I replied, “I am hopelessly at sea.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, I had forgotten that I was hungry in the excitement which + now claimed me. For although the thread upon which these seemingly + disconnected things hung was invisible to me, I recognized that Bampton, + the city clerk, the bearded stranger who had made so singular a + proposition to him, the white-hatted major, the dead stockbroker, and the + mysterious woman whose presence in the case the clear sight of Harley had + promptly detected, all were linked together by some subtle chain. I was + convinced, too, that my friend held at least one end of that chain in his + grip. + </p> + <p> + “In order to prepare your mind for the interview which I hope to obtain + this evening,” continued Harley, “let me enlighten you upon one or two + points which may seem obscure. In the first place you recognize that + anyone leaning out of the window on the second floor would almost + automatically rest his weight upon the iron bar which was placed there for + that very purpose, since the ledge is unusually low?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite,” I replied, “and it also follows that if the bar gave way anyone + thus leaning on it would be pitched into the street.” + </p> + <p> + “Your reasoning is correct.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear fellow,” said I, “how could such an accident have been + foreseen?” + </p> + <p> + “You speak of an accident. This was no accident! One end of the bar had + been filed completely through, although the file marks had been carefully + concealed with rust and dirt; and the other end had been wrenched out from + its socket and then replaced in such a way that anyone leaning upon the + bar could not fail to be precipitated into the street!” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! Then you mean———” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, Knox, that the man who occupied the supper room on the night + before the tragedy—the dark man, tanned and bearded, with slightly + oblique eyes—-spent his time in filing through that bar—in + short, in preparing a death trap!” + </p> + <p> + I was almost dumbfounded. + </p> + <p> + “But, Harley,” I said, “assuming that he knew his victim would be the next + occupant of the room, how could he know———?” + </p> + <p> + I stopped. Suddenly, as if a curtain had been raised, the details of what + I now perceived to be a fiendishly cunning murder were revealed to me. + </p> + <p> + “According to his own account, Knox,” resumed Harley, “Major Ragstaff + regularly passed along that street with military punctuality at the same + hour every night. You may take it for granted that the murderer was well + aware of this. As a matter of fact, I happen to know that he was. We must + also take it for granted that the murderer knew of these little dinners + for two which took place in the private room above the Cafe Dame every + Wednesday—and sometimes on Friday. Around the figure of the + methodical major—with his conspicuous white hat as a sort of focus—was + built up one of the most ingenious schemes of murder with which I have + ever come in contact. The victim literally killed himself.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Harley, the victim might have ignored the disturbance.” + </p> + <p> + “That is where I first detected the touch of genius, Knox. He recognized + the voice of one of the combatants—or his companion did. Here we + are.” + </p> + <p> + The cab drew up before the house in Hamilton Place. We alighted, and + Harley pressed the bell. The same footman whom I had seen admit the woman + opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Is Lady Ireton at home?” asked Harley. + </p> + <p> + As he uttered the name I literally held my breath. We had come to the + house of Major Ragstaff's daughter, the Marchioness of Ireton, one of + society's most celebrated and beautiful hostesses!—the wife of a + peer famed alike as sportsman, soldier, and scholar. + </p> + <p> + “I believe she is dining at home, sir,” said the man. “Shall I inquire?” + </p> + <p> + “Be good enough to do so,” replied Harley, and gave him a card. “Inform + her that I wish to return to her a handbag which she lost a few days ago.” + </p> + <p> + The man ushered us into an anteroom opening off the lofty and rather + gloomy hall, and as the door closed: + </p> + <p> + “Harley,” I said in a stage whisper, “am I to believe———” + </p> + <p> + “Can you doubt it?” returned Harley with a grim smile. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later we were shown into a charmingly intimate little + boudoir in which Lady Ireton was waiting to receive us. She was a + strikingly handsome brunette, but to-night her face, which normally, I + think, possessed rich colouring, was almost pallid, and there was a hunted + look in her dark eyes which made me wish to be anywhere rather than where + I found myself. Without preamble she rose and addressed Harley: + </p> + <p> + “I fail to understand your message, sir,” she said, and I admired the + imperious courage with which she faced him. “You say you have recovered a + handbag which I had lost?” + </p> + <p> + Harley bowed, and from the pocket of his greatcoat took out a + silken-tasselled bag. + </p> + <p> + “The one which you left in the Cafe Dame, Lady Ireton,” he replied. “Here + also I have”—from another pocket he drew out a diamond ring—“something + which was extorted from you by the fellow Meyer.” + </p> + <p> + Without touching her recovered property, Lady Ireton sank slowly down into + the chair from which she had arisen, her gaze fixed as if hypnotically + upon the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “My friend, Mr. Knox, is aware of all the circumstances,” continued the + latter, “but he is as anxious as I am to terminate this painful interview. + I surmise that what occurred on Wednesday night was this—(correct me + if I am wrong): While dining with Mr. De Lana you heard sounds of + altercation in the street below. May I suggest that you recognized one of + the voices?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ireton, still staring straight before her at Harley, inclined her + head in assent. + </p> + <p> + “I heard my father's voice,” she said hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” he continued. “I am aware that Major Ragstaff is your father.” + He turned to me: “Do you recognize the touch of genius at last?” Then, + again addressing Lady Ireton: “You naturally suggested to your companion + that he should look out of the window in order to learn what was taking + place. The next thing you knew was that he had fallen into the street + below?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Ireton shuddered and raised her hands to her face. + </p> + <p> + “It is retribution,” she whispered. “I have brought this ruin upon myself. + But he does not deserve———” + </p> + <p> + Her voice faded into silence, and: + </p> + <p> + “You refer to your husband, Lord Ireton?” said Harley. + </p> + <p> + Lady Ireton nodded, and again recovering power of speech: + </p> + <p> + “It was to have been our last meeting,” she said, looking up at Harley. + </p> + <p> + She shuddered, and her eyes blazed into sudden fierceness. Then, clenching + her hands, she looked aside. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God, the shame of this hour!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + And I would have given much to have been spared the spectacle of this + proud, erring woman's humiliation. But Paul Harley was scientifically + remorseless. I could detect no pity in his glance. + </p> + <p> + “I would give my life willingly to spare my husband the knowledge of what + has been,” said Lady Ireton in a low, monotonous voice. “Three times I + sent my maid to Meyer to recover my bag, but he demanded a price which + even I could not pay. Now it is all discovered, and Harry will know.” + </p> + <p> + “That, I fear, is unavoidable, Lady Ireton,” declared Harley. “May I ask + where Lord Ireton is at present?” + </p> + <p> + “He is in Africa after big game.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm,” said Harley, “in Africa, and after big game? I can offer you one + consolation, Lady Ireton. In his own interests Meyer will stick to his + first assertion that Mr. De Lana was dining alone.” + </p> + <p> + A strange, horribly pathetic look came into the woman's haunted eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You—you—are not acting for———?” she began. + </p> + <p> + “I am acting for no one,” replied Harley tersely. “Upon my friend's + discretion you may rely as upon my own.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why should he ever know?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Why, indeed,” murmured Harley, “since he is in Africa?” + </p> + <p> + As we descended the stair to the hall my friend paused and pointed to a + life-sized oil painting by London's most fashionable portrait painter. It + was that of a man in the uniform of a Guards officer, a dark man, slightly + gray at the temples, his face very tanned as if by exposure to the sun. + </p> + <p> + “Having had no occasion for disguise when the portrait was painted,” said + Harley, “Lord Ireton appears here without the beard; and as he is not + represented smiling one cannot see the gold tooth. But the painter, if + anything, has accentuated the slanting eyes. You see, the fourth marquis—the + present Lord Ireton's father—married one of the world-famous Yen Sun + girls, daughters of the mandarin of that name by an Irish wife. Hence, the + eyes. And hence———” + </p> + <p> + “But, Harley—it was murder!” + </p> + <p> + “Not within the meaning of the law, Knox. It was a recrudescence of + Chinese humour! Lord Ireton is officially in Africa (and he went actually + after 'big game'). The counsel is not born who could secure a conviction. + We are somewhat late, but shall therefore have less difficulty in finding + a table at Prince's.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TCHERIAPIN + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + THE ROSE + </h3> + <p> + “Examine it closely,” said the man in the unusual caped overcoat. “It will + repay examination.” + </p> + <p> + I held the little object in the palm of my hand, bending forward over the + marble-topped table and looking down at it with deep curiosity. The babel + of tongues so characteristic of Malay Jack's, and that mingled odour of + stale spirits, greasy humanity, tobacco, cheap perfume, and opium, which + distinguish the establishment faded from my ken. A sense of loneliness + came to me. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps I should say that it became complete. I had grown conscious of its + approach at the very moment that the cadaverous white-haired man had + addressed me. There was a quality in his steadfast gaze and in his oddly + pitched deep voice which from the first had wrapped me about—as + though he were cloaking me in his queer personality and withdrawing me + from the common plane. + </p> + <p> + Having stared for some moments at the object in my palm, I touched it + gingerly; whereupon my acquaintance laughed—a short bass laugh. + </p> + <p> + “It looks fragile,” he said. “But have no fear. It is nearly as hard as a + diamond.” + </p> + <p> + Thus encouraged, I took the thing up between finger and thumb, and held it + before my eyes. For long enough I looked at it, and looking, my wonder + grew. I thought that here was the most wonderful example of the lapidary's + art which I had ever met with, east or west. + </p> + <p> + It was a tiny pink rose, no larger than the nail of my little finger. + Stalk and leaves were there, and golden pollen lay in its delicate heart. + Each fairy-petal blushed with June fire; the frail leaves were exquisitely + green. Withal it was as hard and unbendable as a thing of steel. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me,” said the masterful voice. + </p> + <p> + A powerful lens was passed by my acquaintance. I regarded the rose through + the glass, and thereupon I knew, beyond doubt, that there was something + phenomenal about the gem—if gem it were. I could plainly trace the + veins and texture of every petal. + </p> + <p> + I suppose I looked somewhat startled. Although, baldly stated, the fact + may not seem calculated to affright, in reality there was something so + weird about this unnatural bloom that I dropped it on the table. As I did + so I uttered an exclamation; for in spite of the stranger's assurances on + the point, I had by no means overcome my idea of the thing's fragility. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be alarmed,” he said, meeting my startled gaze. “It would need a + steam-hammer to do any serious damage.” + </p> + <p> + He replaced the jewel in his pocket, and when I returned the lens to him + he acknowledged it with a grave inclination of the head. As I looked into + his sunken eyes, in which I thought lay a sort of sardonic merriment, the + fantastic idea flashed through my mind that I had fallen into the clutches + of an expert hypnotist who was amusing himself at my expense, that the + miniature rose was a mere hallucination produced by the same means as the + notorious Indian rope trick. + </p> + <p> + Then, looking around me at the cosmopolitan groups surrounding the many + tables, and catching snatches of conversations dealing with subjects so + diverse as the quality of whisky in Singapore, the frail beauty of Chinese + maidens, and the ways of “bloody greasers,” common sense reasserted + itself. + </p> + <p> + I looked into the gray face of my acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot believe,” I said slowly, “that human ingenuity could so closely + duplicate the handiwork of nature. Surely the gem is unique?—possibly + one of those magical talismans of which we read in Eastern stories?” + </p> + <p> + My companion smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It is not a gem,” he replied, “and while in a sense it is a product of + human ingenuity, it is also the handiwork of nature.” + </p> + <p> + I was badly puzzled, and doubtless revealed the fact, for the stranger + laughed in his short fashion, and: + </p> + <p> + “I am not trying to mystify you,” he assured me. “But the truth is so hard + to believe sometimes that in the present case I hesitate to divulge it. + Did you ever meet Tcheriapin?” + </p> + <p> + This abrupt change of topic somewhat startled me, but nevertheless: + </p> + <p> + “I once heard him play,” I replied. “Why do you ask the question?” + </p> + <p> + “For this reason: Tcheriapin possessed the only other example of this art + which so far as I am aware ever left the laboratory of the inventor. He + occasionally wore it in his buttonhole.” + </p> + <p> + “It is then a manufactured product of some sort?” + </p> + <p> + “As I have said, in a sense it is; but”—he drew the tiny exquisite + ornament from his pocket again and held it up before me—“it is a + natural bloom.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a natural bloom,” replied my acquaintance, fixing his penetrating + gaze upon me. “By a perfectly simple process invented by the cleverest + chemist of his age it had been reduced to this gem-like state while + retaining unimpaired every one of its natural beauties, every shade of its + natural colour. You are incredulous?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” I replied, “having examined it through a magnifying + glass I had already assured myself that no human hand had fashioned it. + You arouse my curiosity intensely. Such a process, with its endless + possibilities, should be worth a fortune to the inventor.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger nodded grimly and again concealed the rose in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” he said; “and the secret died with the man who discovered + it—in the great explosion at the Vortex Works in 1917. You recall + it? The T.N.T. factory? It shook all London, and fragments were cast into + three counties.” + </p> + <p> + “I recall it perfectly well.” + </p> + <p> + “You remember also the death of Dr. Kreener, the chief chemist? He died in + an endeavour to save some of the workpeople.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “He was the inventor of the process, but it was never put upon the market. + He was a singular man, sir; as was once said of him—'A Don Juan of + science.' Dame Nature gave him her heart unwooed. He trifled with science + as some men trifle with love, tossing aside with a smile discoveries which + would have made another famous. This”—tapping his breast pocket—“was + one of them.” + </p> + <p> + “You astound me. Do I understand you to mean that Dr. Kreener had invented + a process for reducing any form of plant life to this condition?” + </p> + <p> + “Almost any form,” was the guarded reply. “And some forms of animal life.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “If you like”—the stranger leaned forward and grasped my arm—“I + will tell you the story of Dr. Kreener's last experiment.” + </p> + <p> + I was now intensely interested. I had not forgotten the heroic death of + the man concerning whose work this chance acquaintance of mine seemed to + know so much. And in the cadaverous face of the stranger as he sat there + regarding me fixedly there was a promise and an allurement. I stood on the + verge of strange things; so that, looking into the deep-set eyes, once + again I felt the cloak being drawn about me, and I resigned myself + willingly to the illusion. + </p> + <p> + From the moment when he began to speak again until that when I rose and + followed him from Malay Jack's, as I shall presently relate, I became + oblivious of my surroundings. I lived and moved through those last fevered + hours in the lives of Dr. Kreener, Tcheriapin, the violinist, and that + other tragic figure around whom the story centred. I append: + </p> + <p> + THE STRANGER'S STORY + </p> + <p> + I asked you (said the man in the caped coat) if you had ever seen + Tcheriapin, and you replied that you had once heard him play. Having once + heard him play you will not have forgotten him. At that time, although war + still raged, all musical London was asking where he had come from and to + what nation he belonged. Then when he disappeared it was variously + reported, you will recall, that he had been shot as a spy and that he had + escaped from England and was serving with the Austrian army. As to his + parentage I can enlighten you in a measure. He was a Eurasian. His father + was an aristocratic Chinaman, and his mother a Polish ballet-dancer—that + was his parentage; but I would scarcely hesitate to affirm that he came + from Hell; and I shall presently show you that he has certainly returned + there. + </p> + <p> + You remember the strange stories current about him. The cunning ones said + that he had a clever press agent. This was true enough. One of the most + prominent agents in London discovered him playing in a Paris cabaret. Two + months later he was playing at the Queen's Hall, and musical London lay at + his feet. + </p> + <p> + He had something of the personality of Paganini, as you remember, except + that he was a smaller man; long, gaunt, yellowish hands and the face of a + haggard Mephistopheles. The critics quarrelled about him, as critics only + quarrel about real genius, and while one school proclaimed that Tcheriapin + had discovered an entirely new technique, a revolutionary system of violin + playing, another school was equally positive in declaring that he could + not play at all, that he was a mountebank, a trickster, whose proper place + was in a variety theatre. + </p> + <p> + There were stories, too, that were never published—not only about + Tcheriapin, but concerning the Strad, upon which he played. If all this + atmosphere of mystery which surrounded the man had truly been the work of + a press agent, then the agent must have been as great a genius as his + client. But I can assure you that the stories concerning Tcheriapin, true + and absurd alike, were not inspired for business purposes; they grew up + around him like fungi. + </p> + <p> + I can see him now, a lean, almost emaciated figure with slow, sinuous + movements and a trick of glancing sideways with those dark, unfathomable, + slightly oblique eyes. He could take up his bow in such a way as to create + an atmosphere of electrical suspense. + </p> + <p> + He was loathsome, yet fascinating. One's mental attitude toward him was + one of defence, of being tensely on guard. Then he would play. + </p> + <p> + You have heard him play, and it is therefore unnecessary for me to attempt + to describe the effect of that music. The only composition which ever bore + his name—I refer to “The Black Mass”—affected me on every + occasion when I heard it, as no other composition has ever done. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was Tcheriapin's playing rather than the music itself which + reached down into hitherto un-plumbed depths within me and awakened dark + things which, unsuspected, lay there sleeping. I never heard “The Black + Mass” played by anyone else; indeed, I am not aware that it was ever + published. But had it been we should rarely hear it. Like Locke's music to + “Macbeth” it bears an unpleasant reputation; to include it in any concert + programme would be to court disaster. An idle superstition, perhaps, but + there is much naivete in the artistic temperament. + </p> + <p> + Men detested Tcheriapin, yet when he chose he could win over his bitterest + enemies. Women followed him as children followed the Pied Piper; he + courted none, but was courted by all. He would glance aside with those + black, slanting eyes, shrug in his insolent fashion, and turn away. And + they would follow. God knows how many of them followed—whether + through the dens of Limehouse or the more fashionable salons of vice in + the West End—they followed—perhaps down to Hell. So much for + Tcheriapin. + </p> + <p> + At the time when the episode occurred to which I have referred, Dr. + Kreener occupied a house in Regent's Park, to which, when his duties at + the munition works allowed, he would sometimes retire at week-ends. He was + a man of complex personality. I think no one ever knew him thoroughly; + indeed, I doubt if he knew himself. + </p> + <p> + He was hail-fellow-well-met with the painters, sculptors, poets, and + social reformers who have made of Soho a new Mecca. No movement in art was + so modern that Dr. Kreener was not conversant with it; no development in + Bolshevism so violent or so secret that Dr. Kreener could not speak of it + complacently and with inside knowledge. + </p> + <p> + These were his Bohemian friends, these dreamers and schemers. Of this side + of his life his scientific colleagues knew little or nothing, but in his + hours of leisure at Regent's Park it was with these dreamers that he loved + to surround himself rather than with his brethren of the laboratory. I + think if Dr. Kreener had not been a great chemist he would have been a + great painter, or perhaps a politician, or even a poet. Triumph was his + birthright, and the fruits for which lesser men reached out in vain fell + ripe into his hands. + </p> + <p> + The favourite meeting-place for these oddly assorted boon companions was + the doctor's laboratory, which was divided from the house by a moderately + large garden. Here on a Sunday evening one might meet the very “latest” + composer, the sculptor bringing a new “message,” or the man destined to + supplant with the ballet the time-worn operatic tradition. + </p> + <p> + But while some of these would come and go, so that one could never count + with certainty upon meeting them, there was one who never failed to be + present when such an informal reception was held. Of him I must speak at + greater length, for a reason which will shortly appear. + </p> + <p> + Andrews was the name by which he was known to the circles in which he + moved. No one, from Sir John Tennier, the fashionable portrait painter, to + Kruski, of the Russian ballet, disputed Andrews's right to be counted one + of the elect. Yet it was known, nor did he trouble to hide the fact, that + Andrews was employed at a large printing works in South London, designing + advertisements. He was a great, red-bearded, unkempt Scotsman, and only + once can I remember to have seen him strictly sober; but to hear him talk + about painters and painting in his thick Caledonian accent was to look + into the soul of an artist. + </p> + <p> + He was as sour as an unripe grape-fruit, cynical, embittered, a man + savagely disappointed with life and the world; and tragedy was written all + over him. If anyone knew the secret of his wasted life it was Dr. Kreener, + and Dr. Kreener was a reliquary of so many secrets that this one was safe + as if the grave had swallowed it. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday Tcheriapin joined the party. That he would gravitate there + sooner or later was inevitable, for the laboratory in the garden was a + Kaaba to which all such spirits made at least one pilgrimage. He had just + set musical London on fire with his barbaric playing, and already those + stories to which I have referred were creeping into circulation. + </p> + <p> + Although Dr. Kreener never expected anything of his guests beyond an + interchange of ideas, it was a fact that the laboratory contained an + almost unique collection of pencil and charcoal studies by famous artists, + done upon the spot; of statuettes in wax, putty, soap and other + extemporized materials, by the newest sculptors. While often enough from + the drawing room which opened upon the other end of the garden had issued + the strains of masterly piano-playing, and it was no uncommon thing for + little groups to gather in the neighbouring road to listen, gratis, to the + voice of some great vocalist. + </p> + <p> + From the first moment of their meeting an intense antagonism sprang up + between Tcheriapin and Andrews. Neither troubled very much to veil it. In + Tcheriapin it found expression in covert sneers and sidelong glances, + while the big, lion-maned Scotsman snorted open contempt of the Eurasian + violinist. However, what I was about to say was that Tcheriapin on the + occasion of his first visit brought his violin. + </p> + <p> + It was there, amid these incongruous surroundings, that I first had my + spirit tortured by the strains of “The Black Mass.” + </p> + <p> + There were five of us present, including Tcheriapin, and not one of the + four listeners was unaffected by the music. But the influence which it + exercised upon Andrews was so extraordinary as almost to reach the + phenomenal. He literally writhed in his chair, and finally interrupted the + performance by staggering rather than walking out of the laboratory. + </p> + <p> + I remember that he upset a jar of acid in his stumbling exit. It flowed + across the floor almost to the feet of Tcheriapin, and the way in which + the little black-haired man skipped, squealing, out of the path of the + corroding fluid was curiously like that of a startled rabbit. Order was + restored in due course, but we could not induce Tcheriapin to play again, + nor did Andrews return until the violinist had taken his departure. We + found him in the dining room, a nearly empty whisky-bottle beside him. + </p> + <p> + “I had to gang awa',” he explained thickly; “he was temptin' me to murder + him. I should ha' had to do it if I had stayed. Damn his hell-music.” + </p> + <p> + Tcheriapin revisited Dr. Kreener on many occasions afterward, although for + a long time he did not bring his violin again. The doctor had prevailed + upon Andrews to tolerate the Eurasian's company, and I could not help + noticing how Tcheriapin skilfully and deliberately goaded the Scotsman, + seeming to take a fiendish delight in disagreeing with his pet theories + and in discussing any topic which he had found to be distasteful to + Andrews. + </p> + <p> + Chief among these was that sort of irreverent criticism of women in which + male parties so often indulge. Bitter cynic though he was, women were + sacred to Andrews. To speak disrespectfully of a woman in his presence was + like uttering blasphemy in the study of a cardinal. Tcheriapin very + quickly detected the Scotsman's weakness, and one night he launched out + into a series of amorous adventures which set Andrews writhing as he had + writhed under the torture of “The Black Mass.” + </p> + <p> + On this occasion the party was only a small one, comprising myself, Dr. + Kreener, Andrews and Tcheriapin. I could feel the storm brewing, but was + powerless to check it. How presently it was to break in tragic violence I + could not foresee. Fate had not meant that I should foresee it. + </p> + <p> + Allowing for the free play of an extravagant artistic mind, Tcheriapin's + career on his own showing had been that of a callous blackguard. I began + by being disgusted and ended by being fascinated, not by the man's + scandalous adventures, but by the scarcely human psychology of the + narrator. + </p> + <p> + From Warsaw to Budapesth, Shanghai to Paris, and Cairo to London he + passed, leaving ruin behind him with a smile—airily flicking + cigarette ash upon the floor to indicate the termination of each + “episode.” + </p> + <p> + Andrews watched him in a lowering way which I did not like at all. He had + ceased to snort his scorn; indeed, for ten minutes or so he had uttered no + word or sound; but there was something in the pose of his ungainly body + which strangely suggested that of a great dog preparing to spring. + Presently the violinist recalled what he termed a “charming idyll of + Normandy.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one poor fool in the world,” he said, shrugging his slight + shoulders, “who never knew how badly he should hate me. Ha! ha! of him I + shall tell you. Do you remember, my friends, some few years ago, a picture + that was published in Paris and London? Everybody bought it; everybody + said: 'He is a made man, this fellow who can paint so fine.'” + </p> + <p> + “To what picture do you refer?” asked Dr. Kreener. + </p> + <p> + “It was called 'A Dream at Dawn.'” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke the words I saw Andrews start forward, and Dr. Kreener + exchanged a swift glance with him. But the Scotsman, unseen by the + vainglorious half-caste, shook his head fiercely. + </p> + <p> + The picture to which Tcheriapin referred will, of course, be perfectly + familiar to you. It had phenomenal popularity some eight years ago. + Nothing was known of the painter—whose name was Colquhoun—and + nothing has been seen of his work since. The original painting was never + sold, and after a time this promising new artist was, of course, + forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Presently Tcheriapin continued: + </p> + <p> + “It is the figure of a slender girl—ah! angels of grace!—what + a girl!” He kissed his hand rapturously. “She is posed bending gracefully + forward, and looking down at her own lovely reflection in the water. It is + a seashore, you remember, and the little ripples play about her ankles. + The first blush of the dawn robes her white body in a transparent mantle + of light. Ah! God's mercy! it was as she stood so, in a little cove of + Normandy, that I saw her!” + </p> + <p> + He paused, rolling his dark eyes; and I could hear Andrews's heavy + breathing; then: + </p> + <p> + “It was the 'new art'—the posing of the model not in a lighted + studio, but in the scene to be depicted. + </p> + <p> + “And the fellow who painted her!—the man with the barbarous name! + Bah! he was big—as big as our Mr. Andrews—and ugly—pooh! + uglier than he! A moon-face, with cropped skull like a prize-fighter and + no soul. But, yes, he could paint. 'A Dream at Dawn' was genius—yes, + some soul he must have had. + </p> + <p> + “He could paint, dear friends, but he could not love. Him I counted as—puff!” + </p> + <p> + He blew imaginary down into space. + </p> + <p> + “Her I sought out, and presently found. She told me, in those sweet stolen + rambles along the shore, when the moonlight made her look like a Madonna, + that she was his inspiration—his art—his life. And she wept; + she wept, and I kissed her tears away. + </p> + <p> + “To please her I waited until 'A Dream at Dawn' was finished. With the + finish of the picture, finished also his dream of dawn—the + moon-faced one's.” + </p> + <p> + Tcheriapin laughed, and lighted a fresh cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Can you believe that a man could be so stupid? He never knew of my + existence, this big, red booby. He never knew that I existed until—until + his 'dream' had fled—with me! In a week we were in Paris, that + dream-girl and I—in a month we had quarrelled. I always end these + matters with a quarrel; it makes the complete finish. She struck me in the + face—and I laughed. She turned and went away. We were tired of one + another. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Again he airily kissed his hand. “There were others after I had + gone. I heard for a time. But her memory is like a rose, fresh and fair + and sweet. I am glad I can remember her so, and not as she afterward + became. That is the art of love. She killed herself with absinthe, my + friends. She died in Marseilles in the first year of the great war.” + </p> + <p> + Thus far Tcheriapin had proceeded, and was in the act of airily flicking + ash upon the floor, when, uttering a sound which I can only describe as a + roar, Andrews hurled himself upon the smiling violinist. + </p> + <p> + His great red hands clutching Tcheriapin's throat, the insane Scotsman, + for insane he was at that moment, forced the other back upon the settee + from which he had half arisen. In vain I sought to drag him away from the + writhing body, but I doubt that any man could have relaxed that deadly + grip. Tcheriapin's eyes protruded hideously and his tongue lolled forth + from his mouth. One could hear the breath whistling through his nostrils + as Andrews silently, deliberately, squeezed the life out of him. + </p> + <p> + It all occupied only a few minutes, and then Andrews, slowly opening his + rigidly crooked fingers, stood panting and looking down at the distorted + face of the dead man. + </p> + <p> + For once in his life the Scotsman was sober, and turning to Dr. Kreener: + </p> + <p> + “I have waited seven long years for this,” he said, “and I'll hang wi' + contentment.” + </p> + <p> + I can never forget the ensuing moments, in which, amid a horrible silence + broken only by the ticking of a clock and the heavy breathing of Colquhoun + (so long known to us as Andrews) we stood watching the contorted body on + the settee. + </p> + <p> + And as we watched, slowly the rigid limbs began to relax, and Tcheriapin + slid gently on to the floor, collapsing there with a soft thud, where he + squatted like some hideous Buddha, resting back against the cushions, one + spectral yellow hand upraised, the fingers still clutching a big gold + tassel. + </p> + <p> + Andrews (for so I always think of him) was seized with a violent fit of + trembling, and he dropped into the chair, muttering to himself and looking + down wild-eyed at his twitching fingers. Then he began to laugh, + high-pitched laughter, in little short peals. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” cried the doctor sharply. “Drop that!” + </p> + <p> + Crossing to Andrews, he grasped him by the shoulders and shook him + roughly. + </p> + <p> + The laughter ceased, and: + </p> + <p> + “Send for the police,” said Andrews in a queer, shaky voice. “Dinna fear + but I'm ready. I'm only sorry it happened here.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be glad,” said Dr. Kreener. + </p> + <p> + There was a covert meaning in the words—a fact which penetrated even + to the dulled intelligence of the Scotsman, for he glanced up haggardly at + his friend. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be glad,” repeated Dr. Kreener. + </p> + <p> + Turning, he walked to the laboratory door and locked it. He next lowered + all the blinds. + </p> + <p> + “I pray that we have not been observed,” he said, “but we must chance it.” + </p> + <p> + He mixed a drink for Andrews and himself. His quiet, decisive manner had + had its effect, and Andrews was now more composed. Indeed, he seemed to be + in a half-dazed condition; but he persistently kept his back turned to the + crouching figure propped up against the settee. + </p> + <p> + “If you think you can follow me,” said Dr. Kreener abruptly, “I will show + you the result of a recent experiment.” + </p> + <p> + Unlocking a cupboard, he took out a tiny figure some two inches long by + one inch high, mounted upon a polished wooden pedestal. It was that of a + guinea-pig. The flaky fur gleamed like the finest silk, and one felt that + the coat of the minute creature would be as floss to the touch; whereas in + reality it possessed the rigidity of steel. Literally one could have done + it little damage with a hammer. Its weight was extraordinary. + </p> + <p> + “I am learning new things about this process every day,” continued Dr. + Kreener, placing the little figure upon a table. “For instance, while it + seems to operate uniformly upon vegetable matter, there are curious + modifications when one applies it to animal and mineral substances. I have + now definitely decided that the result of this particular inquiry must + never be published. You, Colquhoun, I believe, possess an example of the + process, a tiger lily, I think? I must ask you to return it to me. Our + late friend, Tcheriapin, wears a pink rose in his coat which I have + treated in the same way. I am going to take the liberty of removing it.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke in the hard, incisive manner which I had heard him use in the + lecture theatre, and it was evident enough that his design was to prepare + Andrews for something which he contemplated. Facing the Scotsman where he + sat hunched up in the big armchair, dully watching the speaker: + </p> + <p> + “There is one experiment,” said Dr. Kreener, speaking very deliberately, + “which I have never before had a suitable opportunity of attempting. Of + its result I am personally confident, but science always demands proof.” + </p> + <p> + His voice rang now with a note of repressed excitement. He paused for a + moment, and then: + </p> + <p> + “If you were to examine this little specimen very closely,” he said, and + rested his finger upon the tiny figure of the guinea-pig, “you would find + that in one particular it is imperfect. Although a diamond drill would + have to be employed to demonstrate the fact, the animal's organs, despite + their having undergone a chemical change quite new to science, are intact, + perfect down to the smallest detail. One part of the creature's structure + alone defied my process. In short, dental enamel is impervious to it. This + little animal, otherwise as complete as when it lived and breathed, has no + teeth. I found it necessary to extract them before submitting the body to + the reductionary process.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go on?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Andrews, to whose mind, I think, no conception of the doctor's project had + yet penetrated, shuddered, but slowly nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Kreener glanced across the laboratory at the crouching figure of + Tcheriapin, then, resting his hands upon Andrews's shoulders, he pushed + him back in the chair and stared into his dull eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Brace yourself, Colquhoun,” he said tersely. + </p> + <p> + Turning, he crossed to a small mahogany cabinet at the farther end of the + room. Pulling out a glass tray he judicially selected a pair of dental + forceps. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + “THE BLACK MASS” + </h3> + <p> + Thus far the stranger's appalling story had progressed when that singular + cloak in which hypnotically he had enwrapped me seemed to drop, and I + found myself clutching the edge of the table and staring into the gray + face of the speaker. + </p> + <p> + I became suddenly aware of the babel of voices about me, of the noisome + smell of Malay Jack's, and of the presence of Jack in person, who was + inquiring if there were any further orders. I was conscious of nausea. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” I said, rising unsteadily, “but I fear the oppressive + atmosphere is affecting me.” + </p> + <p> + “If you prefer to go out,” said my acquaintance, in that deep voice which + throughout the dreadful story had rendered me oblivious of my + surroundings, “I should be much favoured if you would accompany me to a + spot not five hundred yards from here.” + </p> + <p> + Seeing me hesitate: + </p> + <p> + “I have a particular reason for asking,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I replied, inclining my head, “if you wish it. But certainly + I must seek the fresh air.” + </p> + <p> + Going up the steps and out through the door above which the blue lantern + burned, we came to the street, turned to the left, to the left again, and + soon were threading that maze of narrow ways which complicates the map of + Pennyfields. + </p> + <p> + I felt somewhat recovered. Here, in the narrow but familiar highways the + spell of my singular acquaintance lost much of its potency, and already I + found myself doubting the story of Dr. Kreener and Tcheriapin. Indeed, I + began to laugh at myself, conceiving that I had fallen into the hands of + some comedian who was making sport of me; although why such a person + should visit Malay Jack's was not apparent. + </p> + <p> + I was about to give expression to these new and saner ideas when my + companion paused before a door half hidden in a little alley which divided + the back of a Chinese restaurant from the tawdry-looking establishment of + a cigar merchant. He apparently held the key, for although I did not + actually hear the turning of the lock I saw that he had opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “May I request you to follow me?” came his deep voice out of the darkness. + “I will show you something which will repay your trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Again the cloak touched me, but it was without entirely resigning myself + to the compelling influence that I followed my mysterious acquaintance up + an uncarpeted and nearly dark stair. On the landing above a gas lamp was + burning, and opening a door immediately facing the stair the stranger + conducted me into a barely furnished and untidy room. + </p> + <p> + The atmosphere smelled like that of a pot-house, the odours of stale + spirits and of tobacco mingling unpleasantly. As my guide removed his hat + and stood there, a square, gaunt figure in his queer, caped overcoat, I + secured for the first time a view of his face in profile; and found it to + be startlingly unfamiliar. Seen thus, my acquaintance was another man. I + realized that there was something unnatural about the long, white hair, + the gray face; that the sharp outline of brow, nose, and chin was that of + a much younger man than I had supposed him to be. + </p> + <p> + All this came to me in a momentary flash of perception, for immediately my + attention was riveted upon a figure hunched up on a dilapidated sofa on + the opposite side of the room. It was that of a big man, bearded and very + heavily built, but whose face was scarred as by years of suffering, and + whose eyes confirmed the story indicated by the smell of stale spirits + with which the air of the room was laden. A nearly empty bottle stood on a + table at his elbow, a glass beside it, and a pipe lay in a saucer full of + ashes near the glass. + </p> + <p> + As we entered, the glazed eyes of the man opened widely and he clutched at + the table with big red hands, leaning forward and staring horribly. + </p> + <p> + Save for this derelict figure and some few dirty utensils and scattered + garments which indicated that the apartment was used both as sleeping and + living room, there was so little of interest in the place that + automatically my wandering gaze strayed from the figure on the sofa to a + large oil painting, unframed, which rested upon the mantelpiece above the + dirty grate, in which the fire had become extinguished. + </p> + <p> + I uttered a stifled exclamation. It was “A Dream at Dawn”—evidently + the original painting! + </p> + <p> + On the left of it, from a nail in the wall, hung a violin and bow, and on + the right stood a sort of cylindrical glass case or closed jar, upon a + wooden base. + </p> + <p> + From the moment that I perceived the contents of this glass case a sense + of fantasy claimed me, and I ceased to know where reality ended and mirage + began. + </p> + <p> + It contained a tiny and perfect figure of a man. He was arrayed in a + beautifully fitting dress-suit such as a doll might have worn, and he was + posed as if in the act of playing a violin, although no violin was + present. At the elfin black hair and Mephistophelian face of this + horrible, wonderful image, I stared fascinatedly. + </p> + <p> + I looked and looked at the dwarfed figure of... Tcheriapin! + </p> + <p> + All these impressions came to me in the space of a few hectic moments, + when in upon my mental tumult intruded a husky whisper from the man on the + sofa. + </p> + <p> + “Kreener!” he said. “Kreener!” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of that name, and because of the way in which it was + pronounced, I felt my blood running cold. The speaker was staring straight + at my companion. + </p> + <p> + I clutched at the open door. I felt that there was still some crowning + horror to come. I wanted to escape from that reeking room, but my muscles + refused to obey me, and there I stood while: + </p> + <p> + “Kreener!” repeated the husky voice, and I saw that the speaker was rising + unsteadily to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “You have brought him again. Why have you brought him again? He will play. + He will play me a step nearer to Hell.” + </p> + <p> + “Brace yourself, Colquhoun,” said the voice of my companion. “Brace + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Take him awa'!” came in a sudden frenzied shriek. “Take him awa'! He's + there at your elbow, Kreener, mockin' me, and pointing to that damned + violin.” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” said the stranger, a high note of command in his voice. “Drop + that! Sit down at once.” + </p> + <p> + Even as the other obeyed him, the cloaked stranger, stepping to the + mantelpiece, opened a small box which lay there beside the glass case. He + turned to me; and I tried to shrink away from him. For I knew—I knew—yet + I loathed to look upon—what was in the box. Muffled as though + reaching me through fog, I heard the words: + </p> + <p> + “A perfect human body...in miniature... every organ intact by means of... + process... rendered indestructible. Tcheriapin as he was in life may be + seen by the curious ten thousand years hence. Incomplete... one respect... + here in this box...” + </p> + <p> + The spell was broken by a horrifying shriek from the man whom my companion + had addressed as Colquhoun, and whom I could only suppose to be the + painter of the celebrated picture which rested upon the mantelshelf. + </p> + <p> + “Take him awa', Kreener! He is reaching for the violin!” + </p> + <p> + Animation returned to me, and I fell rather than ran down the darkened + stair. How I opened the street door I know not, but even as I stepped out + into the squalid alleys of Pennyfields the cloaked figure was beside me. A + hand was laid upon my shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” commanded a deep voice. + </p> + <p> + Clearly, with an eerie sweetness, an evil, hellish beauty indescribable, + the wailing of a Stradivarius violin crept to my ears from the room above. + Slowly—slowly the music began, and my soul rose up in revolt. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” repeated the voice. “Listen! It is 'The Black Mass'!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DANCE OF THE VEILS + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + THE HOUSE OF THE AGAPOULOS + </h3> + <p> + Hassan came in and began very deliberately to light the four lamps. He + muttered to himself and often smiled in the childish manner which + characterizes some Egyptians. Hassan wore a red cap, and a white robe + confined at the waist by a red sash. On his brown feet he wore loose + slippers, also of red. He had good features and made a very picturesque + figure moving slowly about his work. + </p> + <p> + As he lighted lamp after lamp and soft illumination crept about the big + room, because of the heavy shadows created the place seemed to become + mysteriously enlarged. That it was an Eastern apartment cunningly devised + to appeal to the Western eye, one familiar with Arab households must have + seen at once. It was a traditional Oriental interior, a stage setting + rather than the nondescript and generally uninteresting environment of the + modern Egyptian at home. + </p> + <p> + Brightly coloured divans there were and many silken cushions of strange + pattern and design. The hanging lamps were of perforated brass with little + coloured glass panels. In carved wooden cabinets stood beautiful porcelain + jars, trays, and vessels of silver and copper ware. Rich carpets were + spread about the floor, and the draperies were elegant and costly, while + two deep windows projecting over the court represented the best period of + Arab architecture. Their intricate carven woodwork had once adorned the + palace of a Grand Wazir. Agapoulos had bought them in Cairo and had had + them fitted to his house in Chinatown. A smaller brass lamp of very + delicate workmanship was suspended in each of the recesses. + </p> + <p> + As Hassan, having lighted the four larger lanterns, was proceeding + leisurely to light the first of the smaller ones, draperies before a door + at the east end of the room were parted and Agapoulos came in. Agapoulos + was a short but portly Greek whom the careless observer might easily have + mistaken for a Jew. He had much of the appearance of a bank manager, + having the manners of one used to making himself agreeable, but also + possessing the money-eye and that comprehensive glance which belongs to + the successful man of commerce. + </p> + <p> + Standing in the centre of the place he brushed his neat black moustache + with a plump forefinger. A diamond ring which he wore glittered + brilliantly in the coloured rays of the lanterns. With his right hand, + which rested in his trouser pocket, he rattled keys. His glance roved + about the room appraisingly. Walking to a beautifully carved Arab cabinet + he rearranged three pieces of Persian copperware which stood upon it. He + moved several cushions, and taking up a leopard skin which lay upon the + floor he draped it over an ebony chair which was inlaid intricately with + ivory. + </p> + <p> + The drooping eyelids of M. Agapoulos drooped lower, as returning to the + centre of the room he critically surveyed the effect of these master + touches. At the moment he resembled a window-dresser, or, rather, one of + those high-salaried artists who beautify the great establishments of + Regent Street, the Rue de la Paix, and Ruination Avenue, New York. + </p> + <p> + Hassan lighted the sixth lamp, muttering smilingly all the time. He was + about to depart when Agapoulos addressed him in Arabic. + </p> + <p> + “There will be a party down from the Savoy tonight, Hassan. No one else is + to come unless I am told. That accursed red policeman, Kerry, has been + about here of late. Be very careful.” + </p> + <p> + Hassan saluted him gravely and retired through one of the draped openings. + In his hand he held the taper with which he had lighted the lamps. In + order that the draperies should not be singed he had to hold them widely + apart. For it had not occurred to Hassan to extinguish the taper. The + Egyptian mind is complex in its simplicity. + </p> + <p> + M. Agapoulos from a gold case extracted a cigarette, and lighting it, + inhaled the smoke contentedly, looking about him. The window-dresser was + lost again in the bank manager who has arranged a profitable overdraft. + Somewhere a bell rang. Hassan, treading silently, reappeared, crossed the + room, and opening a finely carved door walked along a corridor which it + had concealed. He still carried the lighted taper. + </p> + <p> + Presently there entered a man whose well-cut serge suit revealed the + figure of a soldier. He wore a soft gray felt hat and carried light gloves + and a cane. His dark face, bronzed by recent exposure to the Egyptian sun, + was handsome in a saturnine fashion, and a touch of gray at the temples + tended to enhance his good looks. He carried himself in that kind of + nonchalant manner which is not only insular but almost insolent. + </p> + <p> + M. Agapoulos bowed extravagantly. As he laid his plump hand upon his + breast the diamond ring sparkled in a way most opulent and impressive. + </p> + <p> + “I greet you, Major Grantham,” he said. “Behold”—he waved his hand + glitteringly—“all is prepared.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” murmured the other, glancing around without interest; “good. + You are beginning to get straight in your new quarters.” + </p> + <p> + Agapoulos extended the prosperous cigarette-case, and Major Grantham took + and lighted a superior cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “How many in the party?” inquired the Greek smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “Three and myself.” + </p> + <p> + A shadow of a frown appeared upon the face of Agapoulos. + </p> + <p> + “Only three,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + Major Grantham laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You should know me by this time, Agapoulos,” he said. “The party is small + but exclusive, you understand?” + </p> + <p> + He spoke wearily, as a tired man speaks of distasteful work which he must + do. There was contempt in his voice; contempt of Agapoulos, and contempt + of himself. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried the Greek, brightening; “do I know any of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably. General Sir Francis Payne, Mr. Eddie, and Sir Horace Tipton.” + </p> + <p> + “An Anglo-American party, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite. Mr. Eddie is the proprietor of the well-known group of American + hotels justly celebrated for their great height and poisonous cuisine; + while Sir Horace Tipton alike as sportsman, globe-trotter, and soap + manufacturer, is characteristically British. Of General Sir Francis Payne + I need only say that his home services during the war did incalculable + harm to our prestige throughout the Empire.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with all the bitterness of a man who has made a failure of life. + Agapoulos was quite restored to good humour. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he exclaimed, brushing his moustache and rattling his keys; + “sportsmen, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Major Grantham dropped into the carven chair upon which the Greek had + draped the leopard skin. Momentarily the window-dresser leapt into life as + Agapoulos beheld one of his cunning effects destroyed, but he forced a + smile when Grantham, shrugging his shoulders, replied: + </p> + <p> + “If they are fools enough to play—the usual 5 per cent, on the + bank's takings.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, glancing at some ash upon the tip of his cigarette. Agapoulos + swiftly produced an ashtray and received the ash on it in the manner of a + churchwarden collecting half a crown from a pew-holder. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” continued Grantham indifferently, “that it will be the dances. + Two of them are over fifty.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Agapoulos thoughtfully; “not, of course, the ordinary + programme?” + </p> + <p> + Major Grantham looked up at him with lazy insolence. + </p> + <p> + “Why ask?” he inquired. “Does Lucullus crave for sausages? Do philosophers + play marbles?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed again, noting the rather blank look of Agapoulos. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?” he added. “I mean to say + that these men have been everywhere and done everything. They have drunk + wine sweet and sour and have swallowed the dregs. I am bringing them. It + is enough.” + </p> + <p> + “More than enough,” declared the Greek with enthusiasm. He bowed, although + Grantham was not looking at him. “In the little matter of fees I can rely + upon your discretion, as always. Is it not said that a good dragoman is a + desirable husband?” + </p> + <p> + Major Grantham resettled himself in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “M. Agapoulos,” he said icily, “we have done shady business together for + years, both in Port Said and in London, and have remained the best of + friends; two blackguards linked by our common villainy. But if this + pleasant commercial acquaintance is to continue let there be no + misunderstanding between us, M. Agapoulos. I may know I'm a dragoman; but + in future, old friend”—he turned lazy eyes upon the Greek—“for + your guidance, don't remind me of the fact or I'll wring your neck.” + </p> + <p> + The drooping eyelids of M. Agapoulos flickered significantly, but it was + with a flourish more grand than usual that he bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, pardon,” he murmured. “You speak harshly of yourself, but ah, you + do not mean it. We understand each other, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand you perfectly,” drawled Grantham; “I was merely advising you + to endeavour to understand me. My party will arrive at nine o'clock, + Agapoulos, and I am going back to the Savoy shortly to dress. Meanwhile, + if Hassan would bring me a whisky and soda I should be obliged.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, of course. He shall do so at once,” cried Agapoulos. “I will + tell him.” + </p> + <p> + Palpably glad to escape, the fat Greek retired, leaving Major Grantham + lolling there upon the leopard skin, his hat, cane and gloves upon the + carpet beside him; and a few moments later Hassan the silent glided into + the extravagant apartment bearing refreshments. Placing his tray upon a + little coffee-table beside Major Grantham, he departed. + </p> + <p> + There was a faint smell of perfume in the room, a heavy voluptuous smell + in which the odour of sandal-wood mingled with the pungency of myrrh. It + was very silent, so that when Grantham mixed a drink the pleasant chink of + glass upon glass rang out sharply. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + ZAHARA + </h3> + <p> + Zahara had overheard the latter part of the conversation from her own + apartment. Once she had even crept across to the carven screen in order + that she might peep through into the big, softly lighted room. She had + interrupted her toilet to do so, and having satisfied herself that + Grantham was one of the speakers (although she had really known this + already), she had returned and stared at herself critically in the mirror. + </p> + <p> + Zahara, whose father had been a Frenchman, possessed skin of a subtle + cream colour very far removed from the warm brown of her Egyptian mother, + but yet not white. At night it appeared dazzling, for she enhanced its + smooth, creamy pallor with a wonderful liquid solution which came from + Paris. It was hard, Zahara had learned, to avoid a certain streaky + appearance, but much practice had made her an adept. + </p> + <p> + This portion of her toilet she had already completed and studying her own + reflection she wondered, as she had always wondered, what Agapoulos could + see in Safiyeh. Safiyeh was as brown as a berry; quite pretty for an + Egyptian girl, as Zahara admitted scornfully, but brown—brown. It + was a great puzzle to Zahara. The mystery of life indeed had puzzled + little Zahara very much from the moment when she had first begun to notice + things with those big, surprising blue eyes of hers, right up to the + present twenty-fourth year of her life. She had an uneasy feeling that + Safiyeh, who was only sixteen, knew more of this mystery than she did. + Once, shortly after the Egyptian girl had come to the house of Agapoulos, + Zahara had playfully placed her round white arm against that of the more + dusky beauty, and: + </p> + <p> + “Look!” she had exclaimed. “I am cream and you are coffee.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” the other had admitted in her practical, serious way, “but + some men do not like cream. All men like coffee.” + </p> + <p> + Zahara rested her elbows upon the table and surveyed the reflection of her + perfect shoulders with disapproval. She had been taught at her mother's + knee that men did not understand women, and she, who had been born and reared + in that quarter of Cairo where there is no day but one long night, had + lived to learn the truth of the lesson. Yet she was not surprised that + this was so; for Zahara did not understand herself. Her desires were so + simple and so seemingly natural, yet it would appear that they were + contrary to the established order of things. + </p> + <p> + She was proud to think that she was French, although someone had told her + that the French, though brave, were mercenary. Zahara admired the French + for being brave, and thought it very sensible that they should be + mercenary. For there was nothing that Zahara wanted of the world that + money could not obtain (or so she believed), and she knew no higher + philosophy than the quest of happiness. Because others did not seem to + share this philosophy she often wondered if she could be unusual. She had + come to the conclusion that she was ignorant. If only Harry Grantham would + talk to her she felt sure he could teach her so much. + </p> + <p> + There were so many things that puzzled her. She knew that at twenty-four + she was young for a French girl, although as an Egyptian she would have + been considered old. She had been taught that gold was the key to + happiness and that man was the ogre from whom this key must be wheedled. A + ready pupil, Zahara had early acquired the art of attracting, and now at + twenty-four she was a past mistress of the Great Craft, and as her mirror + told her, more beautiful than she had ever been. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, what did Agapoulos see in Safiyeh? + </p> + <p> + It was a problem which made Zahara's head ache. She could not understand + why as her power of winning men increased her power to hold them + diminished. Safiyeh was a mere inexperienced child—yet Agapoulos had + brought her to the house, and Zahara, wise in woman's lore, had recognized + the familiar change of manner. + </p> + <p> + It was a great problem, the age-old problem which doubtless set the first + silver thread among Phryne's red-gold locks and which now brought a little + perplexed wrinkle between Zahara's delicately pencilled brows. + </p> + <p> + It had not always been so. In those early days in Cairo there had been an + American boy. Zahara had never forgotten. Her beauty had bewildered him. + He had wanted to take her to New York; and oh! how she had wanted to go. + But her mother, who was then alive, had held other views, and he had gone + alone. Heavens! How old she felt. How many had come and gone since that + Egyptian winter, but now, although admiration was fatally easy to win how + few were so sincere as that fresh-faced boy from beyond the Atlantic. + </p> + <p> + Zahara, staring into the mirror, observed that there was not a wrinkle + upon her face, not a flaw upon her perfect skin. Nor in this was she + blinded by vanity. Nature, indeed, had cast her in a rare mould, and from + her unusual hair, which was like dull gold, to her slender ankles and tiny + feet, she was one of the most perfectly fashioned human beings who ever + added to the beauty of the world. + </p> + <p> + Yet Agapoulos preferred Safiyeh. Zahara could hear him coming to her room + even as she sat there, chin in hands, staring at her own bewitching + reflection. Presently she would slip out and speak to Harry Grantham. + Twice she had read in his eyes that sort of interest which she knew so + well how to detect. She liked him very much, but because of a sense of + loyalty to Agapoulos (a sentiment purely Egyptian which she longed to + crush) Zahara had never so much as glanced at Grantham in the Right Way. + She was glad, though, that he had not gone, and she hoped that Agapoulos + would not detain her long. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, the Greek's manner was even more cold than usual. He + rested his hand upon her shoulder for a moment, and meeting her glance + reflected in the mirror: + </p> + <p> + “There will be a lot of money here to-night,” he said. “Make the best of + your opportunities. Chinatown is foggy, yes—but it pays better than + Port Said.” + </p> + <p> + He ran fat fingers carelessly through her hair, the big diamond glittering + effectively in the wavy gold, then turned and went out. Sitting listening + intently, Zahara could hear him talking in a subdued voice to Safiyeh, and + could detect the Egyptian's low-spoken replies. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Grantham looked up with a start. A new and subtle perfume had added itself + to that with which the air of the room was already laden. He found Zahara + standing beside him. + </p> + <p> + His glance travelled upward from a pair of absurdly tiny brocaded shoes + past slender white ankles to the embroidered edge of a wonderful mandarin + robe decorated with the figures of peacocks; upward again to a little + bejewelled hand which held the robe confined about the slender figure of + Zahara, and upward to where, sideways upon a bare shoulder peeping + impudently out from Chinese embroidery, rested the half-mocking and + half-serious face of the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” he said, smiling, “I didn't hear you come in.” + </p> + <p> + “I walk very soft,” explained Zahara, “because I am not supposed to be + here.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him quizzically. “I don't see you for a long time,” she + added, and in the tone of her voice there was a caress. “I saw you more + often in Port Said than here.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Grantham, “I have been giving Agapoulos a rest. Besides, + there has been nobody worth while at any of the hotels or clubs during the + last fortnight.” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody worth while coming to-night?” asked Zahara with professional + interest. + </p> + <p> + At the very moment that she uttered the words she recognized her error, + for she saw Grantham's expression change. Yet to her strange soul there + was a challenge in his coldness and the joy of contest in the task of + melting the ice of this English reserve. + </p> + <p> + “Lots of money,” he said bitterly; “we shall all do well to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Zahara did not reply for a moment. She wished to close this line of + conversation which inadvertently she had opened up. So that, presently: + </p> + <p> + “You look very lonely and bored,” she said softly. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, it was she who was bored of the life she led in + Limehouse—in chilly, misty Limehouse—and who had grown so very + lonely since Safiyeh had come. In the dark gray eyes looking up at her she + read recognition of her secret. Here was a man possessing that rare + masculine attribute, intuition. Zahara knew a fear that was half + delightful. Fear because she might fail in either of two ways and delight + because the contest was equal. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied slowly, “my looks tell the truth. How did you know?” + </p> + <p> + Zahara observed that his curiosity had not yet become actual interest. She + toyed with the silken tassel on her robe, tying and untying it with quick + nervous fingers and resting the while against the side of the carved + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps because I am so lonely myself,” she said. “I matter to no one. + What I do, where I go, if I live or die. It is all——” + </p> + <p> + She spread her small hands eloquently and shrugged so that another white + shoulder escaped from the Chinese wrapping. Thereupon Zahara demurely drew + her robe about her with a naive air of modesty which nine out of ten + beholding must have supposed to be affected. + </p> + <p> + In reality it was a perfectly natural, instinctive movement. To Zahara her + own beauty was a commonplace to be displayed or concealed as circumstances + might dictate. In a certain sense, which few could appreciate, this + half-caste dancing girl and daughter of El Wasr was as innocent as a baby. + It was one of the things which men did not understand. She thought that if + Harry Grantham asked her to go away with him it would be nice to go. + Suddenly she realized how deep was her loathing of this Limehouse and of + the people she met there, who were all alike. + </p> + <p> + He sat looking at her for some time, and then: “Perhaps you are wrong,” he + said. “There may be some who could understand.” + </p> + <p> + And because he had answered her thoughts rather than her words, the fear + within Zahara grew greater than the joy of the contest. + </p> + <p> + Awhile longer she stayed, seeking for a chink in the armour. But she + failed to kindle the light in his eyes which—unless she had deluded + herself—she had seen there in the past; and because she failed and + could detect no note of tenderness in his impersonal curiosity: + </p> + <p> + “You are lonely because you are so English, so cold,” she exclaimed, + drawing her robe about her and glancing sideways toward the door by which + Agapoulos might be expected to enter. “You are bored, yes. Of course. You + look on at life. It is not exciting, that game—except for the + players.” + </p> + <p> + Never once had she looked at him in the Right Way; for to have done so and + to have evoked only that amused yet compassionate smile would have meant + hatred, and Zahara had been taught that such hatred was fatal because it + was a confession of defeat. + </p> + <p> + “I shall see you again to-night, shall I not?” he said as she turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I shall be—on show. I hope you will approve.” + </p> + <p> + She tossed her head like a petulant child, turned, and with never another + glance in his direction, walked from the room. She was very graceful, he + thought. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was not entirely of this strange half-caste, whose beauty was + provoking, although he resolutely repelled her tentative advances, that + Grantham was thinking. In that last gesture when she had scornfully tossed + her head in turning aside, had lain a bitter memory. Grantham stood for a + moment watching the swaying draperies. Then, dropping the end of his + cigarette into a little brass ash-tray, he took up his hat, gloves, and + cane from the floor, and walked toward the doorway through which he had + entered. + </p> + <p> + A bell rang somewhere, and Grantham paused. A close observer might have + been puzzled by his expression. Evidently changing his mind, he crossed + the room, opened the door and went out, leaving the house of Agapoulos by + a side entrance. Crossing the little courtyard below he hurried in the + direction of the main street, seeming to doubt the shadows which dusk was + painting in the narrow ways. + </p> + <p> + Many men who know Chinatown distrust its shadows, but the furtive fear of + which Grantham had become aware was due not to anticipation but to memory—to + a memory conjured up by that gesture of Zahara's. + </p> + <p> + There were few people in London or elsewhere who knew the history of this + scallywag Englishman. That he had held the King's commission at some time + was generally assumed to be the fact, but that his real name was not + Grantham equally was taken for granted. His continuing, nevertheless, to + style himself “Major” was sufficient evidence to those interested that + Grantham lived by his wits; and from the fact that he lived well and + dressed well one might have deduced that his wits were bright if his + morals were turbid. + </p> + <p> + Now, the gesture of a woman piqued had called up the deathless past. + Hurrying through nearly empty squalid streets, he found himself longing to + pronounce a name, to hear it spoken that he might linger over its bitter + sweetness. To this longing he presently succumbed, and: + </p> + <p> + “Inez,” he whispered, and again more loudly, “Inez.” + </p> + <p> + Such a wave of lonely wretchedness and remorse swept up about his heart + that he was almost overwhelmed by it, yet he resigned himself to its + ruthless cruelty with a sort of savage joy. The shadowed ways of Limehouse + ceased to exist for him, and in spirit he stood once more in a queer, + climbing, sunbathed street of Gibraltar looking out across that blue + ribbon of the Straits to where the African coast lay hidden in the haze. + </p> + <p> + “I never knew,” he said aloud. And one meeting this man who hurried along + and muttered to himself must have supposed him to be mad. “I never knew. + Oh, God! if I had only known.” + </p> + <p> + But he was one of those to whom knowledge comes as a bitter aftermath. + When his regiment had received orders to move from the Rock, and he had + informed Inez of his departure, she had turned aside, just as Zahara had + done; scornfully and in silence. Because of his disbelief in her he had + guarded his heart against this beautiful Spanish girl who (as he realized + too late) had brought him the only real happiness he had ever known. Often + she had told him of her brother, Miguel, who would kill her—would + kill them both—if he so much as suspected their meetings; of her + affianced husband, absent in Tunis, whose jealousy knew no bounds. + </p> + <p> + He had pretended to believe, had even wanted to believe; but the witchery + of the girl's presence removed, he had laughed—at himself and at + Inez. She was playing the Great Game, skilfully, exquisitely. When he was + gone—there would soon be someone else. Yet he had never told her + that he doubted. He had promised many things—and had left her. + </p> + <p> + She died by her own hand on the night of his departure. + </p> + <p> + Now, as a wandering taxi came into view: “Inez!” he moaned—“I never + knew.” + </p> + <p> + That brother whom he had counted a myth had succeeded in getting on board + the transport. Before Grantham's inner vision the whole dreadful scene now + was reenacted: the struggle in the stateroom; he even seemed to hear the + sound of the shot, to see the Spaniard, drenched with blood from a wound + in his forehead, to hear his cry: + </p> + <p> + “I cannot see! I cannot see! Mother of Mercy! I have lost my sight!” + </p> + <p> + It had broken Grantham. The scandal was hushed up, but retirement was + inevitable. He knew, too, that the light had gone out of the world for him + as it had gone for Miguel da Mura. + </p> + <p> + It is sometimes thus that a scallywag is made. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <h3> + THE STAR OF EGYPT + </h3> + <p> + As Grantham went out by the side door, Hassan, soft of foot, appeared. + Crossing to the main door he opened it and walked down the narrow corridor + beyond. Presently came the tap, tap, tap of a stick and a sound of + muttered conversation in some place below. + </p> + <p> + Hassan reentered and went in through the curtained doorway to summon + Agapoulos. Agapoulos was dressing and would not be disturbed. Hassan went + back to those who waited, but ere long returned again chattering volubly + to himself. Going behind the carven screen he rapped upon the door of + Zahara's room, and she directed him to come in. To Zahara, Hassan was no + more than a piece of furniture, and she thought as little of his intruding + while she was in the midst of her toilet as another woman would have + thought of the entrance of a maid. + </p> + <p> + “Two men,” reported Hassan, “who won't go away until they see somebody.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom do they want to see?” she inquired indifferently, adjusting the line + of her eyebrow with an artistically pointed pencil. + </p> + <p> + “They say whoever belongs here.” + </p> + <p> + Zahara invariably spoke either French or English to natives, and if Hassan + had addressed her in Arabic she would not have replied, although she spoke + that language better than she spoke any other. + </p> + <p> + “What are they like? Not—police?” + </p> + <p> + “Foreign,” replied Hassan vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “English—American?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not American or English. Very black hair, dark skin.” + </p> + <p> + Zahara, a student of men, became aware of a mild interest. These swarthy + visitors should prove an agreeable antidote to the poisonous calm of Harry + Grantham. She was trying with all the strength of her strange, stifled + soul not to think of Grantham, and she was incapable of recognizing the + fact that she could think of nothing else and had thought of little else + for a long time past. Even now it was because of him that she determined + to interview the foreign visitors. The mystery of her emotions puzzled her + more than ever. + </p> + <p> + She descended to a small, barely furnished room on the ground floor, close + beside the door opening upon the street. It was lighted by one hanging + lamp. On the divan which constituted the principal item of furniture a + small man, slenderly built, was sitting. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, so + broad of brim that it threw the whole of the upper part of his face into + shadow. It was impossible to see his eyes. Beside him rested a heavy + walking-stick. + </p> + <p> + As Zahara entered, a wonderful, gaily coloured figure, this man did not + move in the slightest, but sat, chin on breast, his small, muscular, brown + hands resting on his knees. His companion, however, a person of more + massive build, elegantly dressed and handsome in a swarthy fashion, bowed + gravely and removed his hat. Zahara liked his eyes, which were dark and + very bold looking. + </p> + <p> + “M. Agapoulos is engaged,” she said, speaking in French. “What is it you + wish to know?” + </p> + <p> + The man regarded her fixedly, and: + </p> + <p> + “Senorita,” he replied, “I will be frank with you.” + </p> + <p> + Save for his use of the word “senorita” he also spoke in French. Zahara + drew her robe more closely about her and adopted her most stately manner. + </p> + <p> + “My name,” continued the other, “does not matter, but my business is to + look into the affairs of other people, you understand?” + </p> + <p> + Zahara, who understood from this that the man was some kind of inquiry + agent, opened her blue eyes very widely and at the same time shook her + head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she protested; “what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “A certain gentleman came here a short time ago, came into this house and + must be here now. Don't be afraid. He has done nothing very dreadful,” he + added reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + Zahara retreated a step, and a little wrinkle of disapproval appeared + between her pencilled brows. She no longer liked the man's eyes, she + decided. They were deceitful eyes. His companion had taken up the heavy + stick and was restlessly tapping the floor. + </p> + <p> + “There is no one here,” said Zahara calmly, “except the people who live in + the house.” + </p> + <p> + “He is here, he is here,” muttered the man seated on the divan. + </p> + <p> + The tapping of his stick had grown more rapid, but as he had spoken in + Spanish, Zahara, who was ignorant of that language, had no idea what he + had said. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” continued the Spaniard, bowing slightly in the direction of + the slender man who so persistently kept his broad-brimmed hat on his + head, “chanced to hear the voice of this gentleman as he spoke to your + porter on entering the door. And although the door was closed too soon for + us actually to see him, we are convinced that he is the person we seek.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are mistaken,” said Zahara coolly. “But what do you want him + for?” + </p> + <p> + As she uttered the words she realized that even the memory of Grantham was + sufficient to cause her to betray herself. She had betrayed her interest + to the man himself, and now she had betrayed it to this dark-faced + stranger whose manner was so mysterious. The Spaniard recognized the fact, + and, unlike Grantham, acted upon it promptly. + </p> + <p> + “He has taken away the wife of another, Senorita,” he said simply, and + watched her as he spoke the lie. + </p> + <p> + She listened in silence, wide-eyed. Her lower lip twitched, and she bit it + fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “He went first to Port Said and then came to London with this woman,” + continued the Spaniard remorselessly. “We come from her husband to ask her + to return. Yes, he will forgive her—or he offers her freedom.” + </p> + <p> + Rapidly but comprehensively the speaker's bold glance travelled over + Zahara, from her golden head to her tiny embroidered shoes. + </p> + <p> + “If you can help us in this matter it will be worth fifty English pounds + to you,” he concluded. + </p> + <p> + Zahara was breathing rapidly. The fatal hatred which she had sought to + stifle gained a new vitality. Another woman—another woman actually + here in London! So there was someone upon whom he did not look in that + half-amused and half-compassionate manner. How she hated him! How she + hated the woman to whom he had but a moment ago returned! + </p> + <p> + “Then he will marry this other one?” she said suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. Already he neglects her. We think she will go back.” + </p> + <p> + Zahara experienced a swift change of sentiment. She seemed to be + compounded of two separate persons, one of whom laughed cruelly at the + folly of the other. + </p> + <p> + “What is the name of this man you think your friend has recognized?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + The big stick was rapping furiously during this colloquy. + </p> + <p> + “We are both sure, Senorita. His name is Major Spalding.” + </p> + <p> + That Spalding and Grantham were neighbouring towns in Lincolnshire Zahara + did not know, but: + </p> + <p> + “No one of that name comes here,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “The one you heard and—who has gone—is not called by that + name.” She spoke with forced calm. It was Grantham they sought! “But what + happens if I show you this one who is not called Spalding?” + </p> + <p> + “No matter! Point him out to me,” answered the Spaniard eagerly—and + his dark eyes seemed to be on fire—“point him out to me and fifty + pounds of English money is yours!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see.” + </p> + <p> + He drew out a wallet and held up a number of notes. + </p> + <p> + “Fifty,” he said, in a subdued voice, “when you point him out.” + </p> + <p> + For a long moment Zahara hesitated, then: + </p> + <p> + “Sixty,” she corrected him—“now! Then I will do it to-night—if + you tell what happens.” + </p> + <p> + Exhibiting a sort of eager impatience the man displayed a bunch of + official-looking documents. + </p> + <p> + “I give him these,” he explained, “and my work is done.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm,” said Zahara. “He must not know that it is I who have shown him to + you. To-night he will be here at nine o'clock, and I shall dance. You + understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the Spaniard eagerly, “this is what you will do.” + </p> + <p> + And speaking close to her ear he rapidly outlined a plan; but presently + she interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! It is Spanish, the rose. I dance the dances of Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + “But to-night,” he persisted, “it will not matter.” + </p> + <p> + Awhile longer they talked, the rapping of the stick upon the tiled floor + growing ever faster and faster. But finally: + </p> + <p> + “I will tell Hassan that you are to be admitted,” said Zahara, and she + held out her hand for the notes. + </p> + <p> + When, presently, the visitors departed, she learned that the smaller man + was blind; for his companion led him out of the room and out of the house. + She stood awhile listening to the tap, tap, tap of the heavy stick + receding along the street. What she did not hear, and could not have + understood had she heard, since it was uttered in Spanish, was the cry of + exultant hatred which came from the lips of the taller man: + </p> + <p> + “At last, Miguel! at last! Though blind, you have found him! You have not + failed. I shall not fail!” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Zahara peeped through the carved screen at the assembled company. They + were smoking and drinking and seemed to be in high good humour. Safiyeh + had danced and they had applauded the performance, but had complained to + M. Agapoulos that they had seen scores of such dances and dancers. + Safiyeh, who had very little English, had not understood this, and because + presently she was to play upon the a'ood while Zahara danced the Dance of + the Veils, Zahara had avoided informing her of the verdict of the company. + </p> + <p> + Now as she peeped through the lattice in the screen she could see the + Greek haggling with Grantham and a tall gray-haired man whom she supposed + to be Sir Horace Tipton. They were debating the additional fees to be paid + if Zahara, the Star of Egypt, was to present the secret and wonderful + dance of which all men had heard but which only a true daughter of the + ancient tribe of the Ghawazi could perform. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes Zahara was proud of her descent from a dancing-girl of Kenneh. + This was always at night, when a sort of barbaric excitement possessed her + which came from the blood of her mother. Then, a new light entered her + eyes and they seemed to grow long and languid and dark, so that no one + would have suspected that in daylight they were blue. + </p> + <p> + A wild pagan abandon claimed her, and she seemed to hear the wailing of + reed instruments and the throb of the ancient drums which were played of + old before the kings of Egypt. Safiyeh was not a true dancing girl, and + because she knew none of those fine frenzies, she danced without + inspiration, like a brown puppet moved by strings. But she could play upon + an a'ood much better than Zahara, and therefore must not be upset until + she had played for the Dance of the Veils. + </p> + <p> + Seeing that the bargain was all but concluded, Zahara stole back to her + room. Her lightly clad body gleamed like that of some statue become + animate. + </p> + <p> + Her cheeks flushed as she took up the veils, of which she alone knew the + symbolic meaning; the white veil, the purple veil: each had its story to + tell her; and the veil of burning scarlet. In a corner of the big room on + a divan near the door she had seen the Spaniard, a handsome, swarthy + figure in his well-fitting dress clothes, and now, opening a drawer, she + glanced at the little pile of notes which represented her share of the + bargain. There were fifty. She had told Agapoulos that a distinguished + foreigner with an introduction from someone she knew had paid ten pounds + to be present. And because she had given Agapoulos the ten pounds, + Agapoulos had agreed to admit the visitor. + </p> + <p> + She could hear the Greek approaching now, but she was thinking of Grantham + whom she had last seen in laughing conversation with the tall, gray-haired + man. His laughter had appeared forced. Doubtless he grew weary of the + woman he had brought to London. + </p> + <p> + “Dance to-night with all the devil that is in you, my beautiful,” said + Agapoulos, hurrying into the room. + </p> + <p> + Zahara turned aside, toying with the veils. + </p> + <p> + “They are rich, eh?” she said indifferently. + </p> + <p> + She was thinking of the fifty pounds which she had earned so easily; and + after all (how strangely her mind wandered) perhaps he was really tired of + the woman. The Spaniard had said so. + </p> + <p> + “Very rich,” murmured Agapoulos complacently. + </p> + <p> + He brushed his moustache and rattled keys in his pocket. In his dress + clothes he looked like the manager of a prosperous picture palace. + “Safryeh!” he called. + </p> + <p> + When presently the music commenced, the players concealed behind the tall + screen, an expectant hush fell upon the wine-flushed company. Hassan, who + played the darabukkeh, could modulate its throbbing so wonderfully. + </p> + <p> + Zahara entered the room, enveloped from shoulders to ankles in a + flame-coloured cloak. Between her lips she held a red rose. + </p> + <p> + “By God, what a beauty!” said a husky voice. + </p> + <p> + Zahara did not know which of the party had spoken, but she was conscious + of the fact that by virtue of the strange witchcraft which became hers on + such nights she held them all spell-bound. They were her slaves. + </p> + <p> + Slowly she walked across the apartment while the throbbing of the Arab + drum grew softer and softer, producing a weird effect of space and + distance. All eyes were fixed upon her, and meeting Grantham's gaze she + saw at last the Light there which she knew. This sudden knowledge of + triumph almost unnerved her, and the rose which she had taken from between + her lips trembled in her white fingers. Two of the petals fell upon the + carpet, which was cream-coloured from the looms of Ispahan. Like blood + spots the petals lay upon the cream surface. + </p> + <p> + Zahara swung sharply about. Agapoulos, seated alone in the chair over + which he had draped the leopard skin, was busily brushing his moustache + and glancing sideways toward the screen which concealed Safryeh. Zahara + tilted her head on to her shoulder and cast a languorous glance into the + shadows masking the watchful Spaniard. + </p> + <p> + She could see his eyes gleaming like those of a wild beast. An icy finger + seemed to touch her heart. He had lied to her! She knew it, suddenly, + intuitively. Well, she would see. She also had guile. + </p> + <p> + With a little scornful laugh Zahara tossed the rose on to the knees—of + Agapoulos. + </p> + <p> + The sound of three revolver shots fired in quick succession rang out above + the throbbing music. Agapoulos clutched at his shirt front with both + hands, uttered a stifled scream and tried to stand up. He coughed, and + glaring straight in front of him fell forward across a little coffee table + laden with champagne bottles and glasses. + </p> + <p> + Coincident with the crash made by his falling body came the loud bang of a + door. The Spaniard had gone. + </p> + <p> + “By God, sir! It's murder, it's murder!” cried the same husky voice which + had commented upon the beauty of Zahara. + </p> + <p> + There was a mingling, purposeless movement. Someone ran to the door—to + find that it was locked from the outside. Mr. Eddie, now recognizable by + his accent, came toward the prone man, dazed, horrified, and grown very + white. Zahara, a beautiful, tragic figure, in her flaming cloak, stood + looking down at the dead man. Safiyeh was peeping round from behind the + screen, her face a brown mask of terror. Hassan, holding his drum, + appeared behind her, staring stupidly. To the smell of cigar smoke and + perfume a new and acrid odour was added. + </p> + <p> + Vaguely the truth was stealing in upon the mind of the dancing-girl that + she had been made party to a plot to murder Grantham. She had saved his + life. He belonged to her now. She could hear him speaking, although for + some reason she could not see him. A haze had come, blotting out + everything but the still, ungainly figure which lay so near her upon the + carpet, one clutching, fat hand, upon which a diamond glittered, + outstretched so that it nearly touched her bare white feet. + </p> + <p> + “We must get out this way! The side door to the courtyard! None of us can + afford to be mixed up in an affair of this sort.” + </p> + <p> + There was more confused movement and a buzz of excited voices—meaningless, + chaotic. Zahara could feel the draught from the newly opened door. A thin + stream of blood was stealing across the carpet. It had almost reached the + fallen rose petals, which it strangely resembled in colour under the light + of the lanterns. + </p> + <p> + As though dispersed by the draught, the haze lifted, and Zahara saw + Grantham standing by the open doorway through which he had ushered out the + other visitors. + </p> + <p> + Wide-eyed and piteous she met his glance. She had seen that night the Look + in his eyes. She had saved his life, and there was much, so much, that she + wanted to tell him. A thousand yearnings, inexplicable, hitherto unknown, + deep mysteries of her soul, looked out of those great eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Don't think,” he said tensely, “that I was deceived. I saw the trick with + the rose! You are as guilty as your villainous lover! Murderess!” + </p> + <p> + He went out and closed the door. The flame-coloured cloak slowly slipped + from Zahara's shoulders, and the veils, like falling petals, began to drop + gently one by one upon the blood-stained carpet. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HAND OF THE MANDARIN QUONG + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + THE SHADOW ON THE CURTAIN + </h3> + <p> + “Singapore is by no means herself again,” declared Jennings, looking about + the lounge of the Hotel de l'Europe. “Don't you agree, Knox?” + </p> + <p> + Burton fixed his lazy stare upon the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “Don't blame poor old Singapore,” he said. “There is no spot in this + battered world that I have succeeded in discovering which is not changed + for the worse.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Matheson flicked ash from his cigar and smiled in that peculiarly + happy manner which characterizes a certain American type and which lent a + boyish charm to his personality. + </p> + <p> + “You are a pair of pessimists,” he pronounced. “For some reason best known + to themselves Jennings and Knox have decided upon a Busman's Holiday. Very + well. Why grumble?” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right, Doctor,” Jennings admitted. “When I was on service + here in the Straits Settlements I declared heaven knows how often that the + country would never see me again once I was demobbed. Yet here you see I + am; Burton belongs here; but here's Knox, and we are all as fed up as we + can be!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Burton slowly. “I may be a bit tired of Singapore. It's a + queer thing, though, that you fellows have drifted back here again. The + call of the East is no fable. It's a call that one hears for ever.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation drifted into another channel, and all sorts of topics + were discussed, from racing to the latest feminine fashions, from ballroom + dances to the merits and demerits of coalition government. Then suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “What became of Adderley?” asked Jennings. + </p> + <p> + There were several men in the party who had been cronies of ours during + the time that we were stationed in Singapore, and at Jennings's words a + sort of hush seemed to fall on those who had known Adderley. I cannot say + if Jennings noticed this, but it was perfectly evident to me that Dr. + Matheson had perceived it, for he glanced swiftly across in my direction + in an oddly significant way. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” replied Burton, who was an engineer. “He was rather an + unsavoury sort of character in some ways, but I heard that he came to a + sticky end.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” I asked with curiosity, for I myself had often + wondered what had become of Adderley. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he was reported to his C. O., or something, wasn't he, just before + the time for his demobilization? I don't know the particulars; I thought + perhaps you did, as he was in your regiment.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard nothing whatever about it,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “You mean Sidney Adderley, the man who was so indecently rich?” someone + interjected. “Had a place at Katong, and was always talking about his + father's millions?” + </p> + <p> + “That's the fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jennings, “there was some scandal, I know, but it was after my + time here.” + </p> + <p> + “Something about an old mandarin out Johore Bahru way, was it not?” asked + Burton. “The last thing I heard about Adderley was that he had + disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody would have cared much if he had,” declared Jennings. “I know of + several who would have been jolly glad. There was a lot of the brute about + Adderley, apart from the fact that he had more money than was good for + him. His culture was a veneer. It was his check-book that spoke all the + time.” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody would have forgiven Adderley his vulgarity,” said Dr. Matheson, + quietly, “if the man's heart had been in the right place.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely an instance of trying to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear,” + someone murmured. + </p> + <p> + Burton gazed rather hard at the last speaker. + </p> + <p> + “So far as I am aware,” he said, “the poor devil is dead, so go easy.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure he is dead?” asked Dr. Matheson, glancing at Burton in that + quizzical, amused way of his. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not sure; I am merely speaking from hearsay. And now I come to + think of it, the information was rather vague. But I gathered that he had + vanished, at any rate, and remembering certain earlier episodes in his + career, I was led to suppose that this vanishing meant———” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders significantly. + </p> + <p> + “You mean the old mandarin?” suggested Dr. Matheson. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there really anything in that story, or was it suggested by the + unpleasant reputation of Adderley?” Jennings asked. + </p> + <p> + “I can settle any doubts upon that point,” said I; whereupon I immediately + became a focus of general attention. + </p> + <p> + “What! were you ever at that place of Adderley's at Katong?” asked + Jennings with intense curiosity. + </p> + <p> + I nodded, lighting a fresh cigarette in a manner that may have been unduly + leisurely. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see her?” + </p> + <p> + Again I nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Really!” + </p> + <p> + “I must have been peculiarly favoured, but certainly I had that pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak of seeing her,” said one of the party, now entering the + conversation for the first time. “To whom do you refer?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Burton, “it's really a sort of fairy tale—unless + Knox”—glacing across in my direction—“can confirm it. But + there was a story current during the latter part of Adderley's stay in + Singapore to the effect that he had made the acquaintance of the wife, or + some member of the household, of an old gentleman out Johore Bahru way—sort + of mandarin or big pot among the Chinks.” + </p> + <p> + “It was rumoured that he had bolted with her,” added another speaker. + </p> + <p> + “I think it was more than a rumour.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say so?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, representations were made to the authorities, I know for an + absolute certainty, and I have an idea that Adderley was kicked out of the + Service as a consequence of the scandal which resulted.” + </p> + <p> + “How is it one never heard of this?” + </p> + <p> + “Money speaks, my dear fellow,” cried Burton, “even when it is possessed + by such a peculiar outsider as Adderley. The thing was hushed up. It was a + very nasty business. But Knox was telling us that he had actually seen the + lady. Please carry on, Knox, for I must admit that I am intensely + curious.” + </p> + <p> + “I can only say that I saw her on one occasion.” + </p> + <p> + “With Adderley?” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “At his place at Katong.” + </p> + <p> + “I even thought his place at that resort was something of a myth,” + declared Jennings. “He never asked me to go there, but, then, I took that + as a compliment. Pardon the apparent innuendo, Knox,” he added, laughing. + “But you say you actually visited the establishment?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I replied slowly, “I met him here in this very hotel one evening in + the winter of '15, after the natives' attempt to mutiny. He had been + drinking rather heavily, a fact which he was quite unable to disguise. He + was never by any means a real friend of mine; in fact, I doubt that he had + a true friend in the world. Anyhow, I could see that he was lonely, and as + I chanced to be at a loose end I accepted an invitation to go over to what + he termed his 'little place at Katong.' + </p> + <p> + “His little place proved to be a veritable palace. The man privately, or + rather, secretly, to be exact, kept up a sort of pagan state. He had any + number of servants. Of course he became practically a millionaire after + the death of his father, as you will remember; and given more congenial + company, I must confess that I might have spent a most enjoyable evening + there. + </p> + <p> + “Adderley insisted upon priming me with champagne, and after a while I may + as well admit that I lost something of my former reserve, and began in a + fashion to feel that I was having a fairly good time. By the way, my host + was not quite frankly drunk. He got into that objectionable and dangerous + mood which some of you will recall, and I could see by the light in his + eyes that there was mischief brewing, although at the time I did not know + its nature. + </p> + <p> + “I should explain that we were amusing ourselves in a room which was + nearly as large as the lounge of this hotel, and furnished in a somewhat + similar manner. There were carved pillars and stained glass domes, a + little fountain, and all those other peculiarities of an Eastern + household. + </p> + <p> + “Presently, Adderley gave an order to one of his servants, and glanced at + me with that sort of mocking, dare-devil look in his eyes which I loathed, + which everybody loathed who ever met the man. Of course I had no idea what + all this portended, but I was very shortly to learn. + </p> + <p> + “While he was still looking at me, but stealing side-glances at a doorway + before which was draped a most wonderful curtain of a sort of flamingo + colour, this curtain was suddenly pulled aside, and a girl came in. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, you must remember that at the time of which I am speaking the + scandal respecting the mandarin had not yet come to light. Consequently I + had no idea who the girl could be. I saw she was a Eurasian. But of her + striking beauty there could be no doubt whatever. She was dressed in + magnificent robes, and she literally glittered with jewels. She even wore + jewels upon the toes of her little bare feet. But the first thing that + struck me at the moment of her appearance was that her presence there was + contrary to her wishes and inclinations. I have never seen a similar + expression in any woman's eyes. She looked at Adderley as though she would + gladly have slain him! + </p> + <p> + “Seeing this look, his mocking smile in which there was something of + triumph—of the joy of possession—turned to a scowl of positive + brutality. He clenched his fists in a way that set me bristling. He + advanced toward the girl—and although the width of the room divided + them, she recoiled—and the significance of expression and gesture + was unmistakable. Adderley paused. + </p> + <p> + “'So you have made up your mind to dance after all?' he shouted. + </p> + <p> + “The look in the girl's dark eyes was pitiful, and she turned to me with a + glance of dumb entreaty. + </p> + <p> + “'No, no!' she cried. 'No, no! Why do you bring me here?' + </p> + <p> + “'Dance!' roared Adderley. 'Dance! That's what I want you to do.' + </p> + <p> + “Rebellion leapt again to the wonderful eyes, and she started back with a + perfectly splendid gesture of defiance. At that my brutal and drunken host + leapt in her direction. I was on my feet now, but before I could act the + girl said a thing which checked him, sobered him, which pulled him up + short, as though he had encountered a stone wall. + </p> + <p> + “'Ah, God!' she said. (She was speaking, of course, in her native tongue.) + 'His hand! His hand! Look! His hand!' + </p> + <p> + “To me her words were meaningless, naturally, but following the direction + of her positively agonized glance I saw that she was watching what seemed + to me to be the shadow of someone moving behind the flame-like curtain + which produced an effect not unlike that of a huge, outstretched hand, the + fingers crooked, claw-fashion. + </p> + <p> + “'Knox, Knox!' whispered Adderley, grasping me by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “He pointed with a quivering finger toward this indistinct shadow upon the + curtain, and: + </p> + <p> + “'Do you see it—do you see it?' he said huskily. 'It is his hand—it + is his hand!' + </p> + <p> + “Of the pair, I think, the man was the more frightened. But the girl, + uttering a frightful shriek, ran out of the room as though pursued by a + demon. As she did so whoever had been moving behind the curtain evidently + went away. The shadow disappeared, and Adderley, still staring as if + hypnotized at the spot where it had been, continued to hold my shoulder as + in a vise. Then, sinking down upon a heap of cushions beside me, he loudly + and shakily ordered more champagne. + </p> + <p> + “Utterly mystified by the incident, I finally left him in a state of + stupor, and returned to my quarters, wondering whether I had dreamed half + of the episode or the whole of it, whether he did really possess that + wonderful palace, or whether he had borrowed it to impress me.” + </p> + <p> + I ceased speaking, and my story was received in absolute silence, until: + </p> + <p> + “And that is all you know?” said Burton. + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely all. I had to leave about that time, you remember, and + afterward went to France.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember. It was while you were away that the scandal arose + respecting the mandarin. Extraordinary story, Knox. I should like to know + what it all meant, and what the end of it was.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Matheson broke his long silence. + </p> + <p> + “Although I am afraid I cannot enlighten you respecting the end of the + story,” he said quietly, “perhaps I can carry it a step further.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Doctor? What do you know about the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I accidentally became implicated as follows,” replied the American: “I + was, as you know, doing voluntary surgical work near Singapore at the + time, and one evening, presumably about the same period of which Knox is + speaking, I was returning from the hospital at Katong, at which I acted + sometimes as anaesthetist, to my quarters in Singapore; just drifting + along, leisurely by the edge of the gardens admiring the beauty of the + mangroves and the deceitful peace of the Eastern night. + </p> + <p> + “The hour was fairly late and not a soul was about. Nothing disturbed the + silence except those vague sibilant sounds which are so characteristic of + the country. Presently, as I rambled on with my thoughts wandering back to + the dim ages, I literally fell over a man who lay in the road. + </p> + <p> + “I was naturally startled, but I carried an electric pocket torch, and by + its light I discovered that the person over whom I had fallen was a + dignified-looking Chinaman, somewhat past middle age. His clothes, which + were of good quality, were covered with dirt and blood, and he bore all + the appearance of having recently been engaged in a very tough struggle. + His face was notable only for its possession of an unusually long + jet-black moustache. He had swooned from loss of blood.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, was he wounded?” exclaimed Jennings. + </p> + <p> + “His hand had been nearly severed from his wrist!” + </p> + <p> + “Merciful heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “I realized the impossibility of carrying him so far as the hospital, and + accordingly I extemporized a rough tourniquet and left him under a palm + tree by the road until I obtained assistance. Later, at the hospital, + following a consultation, we found it necessary to amputate.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say he objected fiercely?” + </p> + <p> + “He was past objecting to anything, otherwise I have no doubt he would + have objected furiously. The index finger of the injured hand had one of + those preternaturally long nails, protected by an engraved golden case. + However, at least I gave him a chance of life. He was under my care for + some time, but I doubt if ever he was properly grateful. He had an iron + constitution, though, and I finally allowed him to depart. One queer + stipulation he had made—that the severed hand, with its golden + nail-case, should be given to him when he left hospital. And this bargain + I faithfully carried out.” + </p> + <p> + “Most extraordinary,” I said. “Did you ever learn the identity of the old + gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “He was very reticent, but I made a number of inquiries, and finally + learned with absolute certainty, I think, that he was the Mandarin Quong + Mi Su from Johore Bahru, a person of great repute among the Chinese there, + and rather a big man in China. He was known locally as the Mandarin + Quong.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you learn anything respecting how he had come by his injury, Doctor?” + </p> + <p> + Matheson smiled in his quiet fashion, and selected a fresh cigar with + great deliberation. Then: + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is scarcely a case of betraying a professional secret,” he + said, “but during the time that my patient was recovering from the effects + of the anaesthetic he unconsciously gave me several clues to the nature of + the episode. Putting two and two together I gathered that someone, + although the name of this person never once passed the lips of the + mandarin, had abducted his favourite wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! truly amazing,” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not? How small a place the world is. My old mandarin had traced the + abductor and presumably the girl to some house which I gathered to be in + the neighbourhood of Katong. In an attempt to force an entrance—doubtless + with the amiable purpose of slaying them both—he had been detected + by the prime object of his hatred. In hurriedly descending from a window + he had been attacked by some weapon, possibly a sword, and had only made + good his escape in the condition in which I found him. How far he had + proceeded I cannot say, but I should imagine that the house to which he + had been was no great distance from the spot where I found him.” + </p> + <p> + “Comment is really superfluous,” remarked Burton. “He was looking for + Adderley.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree,” said Jennings. + </p> + <p> + “And,” I added, “it was evidently after this episode that I had the + privilege of visiting that interesting establishment.” + </p> + <p> + There was a short interval of silence; then: + </p> + <p> + “You probably retain no very clear impression of the shadow which you + saw,” said Dr. Matheson, with great deliberation. “At the time perhaps you + had less occasion particularly to study it. But are you satisfied that it + was really caused by someone moving behind the curtain?” + </p> + <p> + I considered his question for a few moments. + </p> + <p> + “I am not,” I confessed. “Your story, Doctor, makes me wonder whether it + may not have been due to something else.” + </p> + <p> + “What else can it have been due to?” exclaimed Jennings contemptuously—“unless + to the champagne?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't quote Shakespeare,” said Dr. Matheson, smiling in his odd way. + “The famous lines, though appropriate, are somewhat overworked. But I will + quote Kipling: 'East is East, and West is West.'” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + THE LADY OF KATONG + </h3> + <p> + Fully six months had elapsed, and on returning from Singapore I had + forgotten all about Adderley and the unsavoury stories connected with his + reputation. Then, one evening as I was strolling aimlessly along St. + James's Street, wondering how I was going to kill time—for almost + everyone I knew was out of town, including Paul Harley, and London can be + infinitely more lonely under such conditions than any desert—I saw a + thick-set figure approaching along the other side of the street. + </p> + <p> + The swing of the shoulders, the aggressive turn of the head, were vaguely + familiar, and while I was searching my memory and endeavouring to obtain a + view of the man's face, he stared across in my direction. + </p> + <p> + It was Adderley. + </p> + <p> + He looked even more debauched than I remembered him, for whereas in + Singapore he had had a tanned skin, now he looked unhealthily pallid and + blotchy. He raised his hand, and: + </p> + <p> + “Knox!” he cried, and ran across to greet me. + </p> + <p> + His boisterous manner and a sort of coarse geniality which he possessed + had made him popular with a certain set in former days, but I, who knew + that this geniality was forced, and assumed to conceal a sort of appalling + animalism, had never been deceived by it. Most people found Adderley out + sooner or later, but I had detected the man's true nature from the very + beginning. His eyes alone were danger signals for any amateur + psychologist. However, I greeted him civilly enough: + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul, you are looking as fit as a fiddle!” he cried. “Where have + you been, and what have you been doing since I saw you last?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing much,” I replied, “beyond trying to settle down in a reformed + world.” + </p> + <p> + “Reformed world!” echoed Adderley. “More like a ruined world it has seemed + to me.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed loudly. That he had already explored several bottles was + palpable. + </p> + <p> + We were silent for a while, mentally weighing one another up, as it were. + Then: + </p> + <p> + “Are you living in town?” asked Adderley. + </p> + <p> + “I am staying at the Carlton at the moment,” I replied. “My chambers are + in the hands of the decorators. It's awkward. Interferes with my work.” + </p> + <p> + “Work!” cried Adderley. “Work! It's a nasty word, Knox. Are you doing + anything now?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, until eight o'clock, when I have an appointment.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along to my place,” he suggested, “and have a cup of tea, or a + whisky and soda if you prefer it.” + </p> + <p> + Probably I should have refused, but even as he spoke I was mentally + translated to the lounge of the Hotel de l'Europe, and prompted by a very + human curiosity I determined to accept his invitation. I wondered if Fate + had thrown an opportunity in my way of learning the end of the peculiar + story which had been related on that occasion. + </p> + <p> + I accompanied Adderley to his chambers, which were within a stone's throw + of the spot where I had met him. That this gift for making himself + unpopular with all and sundry, high and low, had not deserted him, was + illustrated by the attitude of the liftman as we entered the hall of the + chambers. He was barely civil to Adderley and even regarded myself with + marked disfavour. + </p> + <p> + We were admitted by Adderley's man, whom I had not seen before, but who + was some kind of foreigner, I think a Portuguese. It was characteristic of + Adderley. No Englishman would ever serve him for long, and there had been + more than one man in his old Company who had openly avowed his intention + of dealing with Adderley on the first available occasion. + </p> + <p> + His chambers were ornately furnished; indeed, the room in which we sat + more closely resembled a scene from an Oscar Asche production than a + normal man's study. There was something unreal about it all. I have since + thought that this unreality extended to the person of the man himself. + Grossly material, he yet possessed an aura of mystery, mystery of an + unsavoury sort. There was something furtive, secretive, about Adderley's + entire mode of life. + </p> + <p> + I had never felt at ease in his company, and now as I sat staring + wonderingly at the strange and costly ornaments with which the room was + overladen I bethought me of the object of my visit. How I should have + brought the conversation back to our Singapore days I know not, but a + suitable opening was presently offered by Adderley himself. + </p> + <p> + “Do you ever see any of the old gang?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I was in Singapore about six months ago,” I replied, “and I met some of + them again.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Had they drifted back to the East after all?” + </p> + <p> + “Two or three of them were taking what Dr. Matheson described as a + Busman's Holiday.” + </p> + <p> + At mention of Dr. Matheson's name Adderley visibly started. + </p> + <p> + “So you know Matheson,” he murmured. “I didn't know you had ever met him.” + </p> + <p> + Plainly to hide his confusion he stood up, and crossing the room drew my + attention to a rather fine silver bowl of early Persian ware. He was + displaying its peculiar virtues and showing a certain acquaintance with + his subject when he was interrupted. A door opened suddenly and a girl + came in. Adderley put down the bowl and turned rapidly as I rose from my + seat. + </p> + <p> + It was the lady of Katong! + </p> + <p> + I recognized her at once, although she wore a very up-to-date gown. While + it did not suit her dark good looks so well as the native dress which she + had worn at Singapore, yet it could not conceal the fact that in a + barbaric way she was a very beautiful woman. On finding a visitor in the + room she became covered with confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she said, speaking in Hindustani. “Why did you not tell me there was + someone here?” + </p> + <p> + Adderley's reply was characteristically brutal. + </p> + <p> + “Get out,” he said. “You fool.” + </p> + <p> + I turned to go, for I was conscious of an intense desire to attack my + host. But: + </p> + <p> + “Don't go, Knox, don't go!” he cried. “I am sorry, I am damned sorry, I———” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and looked at me in a queer sort of appealing way. The girl, + her big eyes widely open, retreated again to the door, with curious lithe + steps, characteristically Oriental. The door regained, she paused for a + moment and extended one small hand in Adderley's direction. + </p> + <p> + “I hate you,” she said slowly, “hate you! Hate you!” + </p> + <p> + She went out, quietly closing the door behind her. Adderley turned to me + with an embarrassed laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I know you think I am a brute and an outsider,” he said, “and perhaps I + am. Everybody says I am, so I suppose there must be something in it. But + if ever a man paid for his mistakes I have paid for mine, Knox. Good God, + I haven't a friend in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “You probably don't deserve one,” I retorted. + </p> + <p> + “I know I don't, and that's the tragedy of it,” he replied. “You may not + believe it, Knox; I don't expect anybody to believe me; but for more than + a year I have been walking on the edge of Hell. Do you know where I have + been since I saw you last?” + </p> + <p> + I shook my head in answer. + </p> + <p> + “I have been half round the world, Knox, trying to find peace.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know where to look for it,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “If only you knew,” he whispered. “If only you knew,” and sank down upon + the settee, ruffling his hair with his hands and looking the picture of + haggard misery. Seeing that I was still set upon departure: + </p> + <p> + “Hold on a bit, Knox,” he implored. “Don't go yet. There is something I + want to ask you, something very important.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed to a sideboard and mixed himself a stiff whisky-and-soda. He + asked me to join him, but I refused. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you sit down again?” + </p> + <p> + I shook my head. + </p> + <p> + “You came to my place at Katong once,” he began abruptly. “I was damned + drunk, I admit it. But something happened, do you remember?” + </p> + <p> + I nodded. + </p> + <p> + “This is what I want to ask you: Did you, or did you not, see that + shadow?” + </p> + <p> + I stared him hard in the face. + </p> + <p> + “I remember the episode to which you refer,” I replied. “I certainly saw a + shadow.” + </p> + <p> + “But what sort of shadow?” + </p> + <p> + “To me it seemed an indefinite, shapeless thing, as though caused by + someone moving behind the curtain.” + </p> + <p> + “It didn't look to you like—the shadow of a hand?” + </p> + <p> + “It might have been, but I could not be positive.” + </p> + <p> + Adderley groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Knox,” he said, “money is a curse. It has been a curse to me. If I have + had my fun, God knows I have paid for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Your idea of fun is probably a peculiar one,” I said dryly. + </p> + <p> + Let me confess that I was only suffering the man's society because of an + intense curiosity which now possessed me on learning that the lady of + Katong was still in Adderley's company. + </p> + <p> + Whether my repugnance for his society would have enabled me to remain any + longer I cannot say. But as if Fate had deliberately planned that I should + become a witness of the concluding phases of this secret drama, we were + now interrupted a second time, and again in a dramatic fashion. + </p> + <p> + Adderley's nondescript valet came in with letters and a rather large brown + paper parcel sealed and fastened with great care. + </p> + <p> + As the man went out: + </p> + <p> + “Surely that is from Singapore,” muttered Adderley, taking up the parcel. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to become temporarily oblivious of my presence, and his face + grew even more haggard as he studied the writing upon the wrapper. With + unsteady fingers he untied it, and I lingered, watching curiously. + Presently out from the wrappings he took a very beautiful casket of ebony + and ivory, cunningly carved and standing upon four claw-like ivory legs. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil's this?” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + He opened the box, which was lined with sandal-wood, and thereupon started + back with a great cry, recoiling from the casket as though it had + contained an adder. My former sentiments forgotten, I stepped forward and + peered into the interior. Then I, in turn, recoiled. + </p> + <p> + In the box lay a shrivelled yellow hand—with long tapering and + well-manicured nails—neatly severed at the wrist! + </p> + <p> + The nail of the index finger was enclosed in a tiny, delicately fashioned + case of gold, upon which were engraved a number of Chinese characters. + </p> + <p> + Adderley sank down again upon the settee. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he whispered, “his hand! His hand! He has sent me his hand!” + </p> + <p> + He began laughing. Whereupon, since I could see that the man was + practically hysterical because of his mysterious fears: + </p> + <p> + “Stop that,” I said sharply. “Pull yourself together, Adderley. What the + deuce is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Take it away!” he moaned, “take it away. Take the accursed thing away!” + </p> + <p> + “I admit it is an unpleasant gift to send to anybody,” I said, “but + probably you know more about it than I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Take it away,” he repeated. “Take it away, for God's sake, take it away, + Knox!” + </p> + <p> + He was quite beyond reason, and therefore: + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I said, and wrapped the casket in the brown paper in which it + had come. “What do you want me to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Throw it in the river,” he answered. “Burn it. Do anything you like with + it, but take it out of my sight!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <h3> + THE GOLD-CASED NAIL + </h3> + <p> + As I descended to the street the liftman regarded me in a curious and + rather significant way. Finally, just as I was about to step out into the + hall: + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, sir,” he said, having evidently decided that I was a fit + person to converse with, “but are you a friend of Mr. Adderley's?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I hope you will excuse me, but at times I have thought the + gentleman was just a little bit queer, like.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean insane?” I asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I don't know, but he is always asking me if I can see shadows + and things in the lift, and sometimes when he comes in late of a night he + absolutely gives me the cold shivers, he does.” + </p> + <p> + I lingered, the box under my arm, reluctant to obtain confidences from a + servant, but at the same time keenly interested. Thus encouraged: + </p> + <p> + “Then there's that lady friend of his who is always coming here,” the man + continued. “She's haunted by shadows, too.” He paused, watching me + narrowly. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing better in this world than a clean conscience, sir,” he + concluded. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Having returned to my room at the hotel, I set down the mysterious parcel, + surveying it with much disfavour. That it contained the hand of the + Mandarin Quong I could not doubt, the hand which had been amputated by Dr. + Matheson. Its appearance in that dramatic fashion confirmed Matheson's + idea that the mandarin's injury had been received at the hands of + Adderley. What did all this portend, unless that the Mandarin Quong was + dead? And if he were dead why was Adderley more afraid of him dead than he + had been of him living? + </p> + <p> + I thought of the haunting shadow, I thought of the night at Katong, and I + thought of Dr. Matheson's words when he had told us of his discovery of + the Chinaman lying in the road that night outside Singapore. + </p> + <p> + I felt strangely disinclined to touch the relic, and it was only after + some moments' hesitation that I undid the wrappings and raised the lid of + the casket. Dusk was very near and I had not yet lighted the lamps; + therefore at first I doubted the evidence of my senses. But having lighted + up and peered long and anxiously into the sandal-wood lining of the casket + I could doubt no longer. + </p> + <p> + The casket was empty! + </p> + <p> + It was like a conjuring trick. That the hand had been in the box when I + had taken it up from Adderley's table I could have sworn before any jury. + When and by whom it had been removed was a puzzle beyond my powers of + unravelling. I stepped toward the telephone—and then remembered that + Paul Harley was out of London. Vaguely wondering if Adderley had played me + a particularly gruesome practical joke, I put the box on a sideboard and + again contemplated the telephone doubtfully far a moment. It was in my + mind to ring him up. Finally, taking all things into consideration, I + determined that I would have nothing further to do with the man's + unsavoury and mysterious affairs. + </p> + <p> + It was in vain, however, that I endeavoured to dismiss the matter from my + mind; and throughout the evening, which I spent at a theatre with some + American friends, I found myself constantly thinking of Adderley and the + ivory casket, of the mandarin of Johore Bahru, and of the mystery of the + shrivelled yellow hand. + </p> + <p> + I had been back in my room about half an hour, I suppose, and it was long + past midnight, when I was startled by a ringing of my telephone bell. I + took up the receiver, and: + </p> + <p> + “Knox! Knox!” came a choking cry. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, who is speaking?” + </p> + <p> + “It is I, Adderley. For God's sake come round to my place at once!” + </p> + <p> + His words were scarcely intelligible. Undoubtedly he was in the grip of + intense emotion. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “It is here, Knox, it is here! It is knocking on the door! Knocking! + Knocking!” + </p> + <p> + “You have been drinking,” I said sternly. “Where is your man?” + </p> + <p> + “The cur has bolted. He bolted the moment he heard that damned knocking. I + am all alone; I have no one else to appeal to.” There came a choking + sound, then: “My God, Knox, it is getting in! I can see... the shadow on + the blind...” + </p> + <p> + Convinced that Adderley's secret fears had driven him mad, I nevertheless + felt called upon to attend to his urgent call, and without a moment's + delay I hurried around to St. James's Street. The liftman was not on duty, + the lower hall was in darkness, but I raced up the stairs and found to my + astonishment that Adderley's door was wide open. + </p> + <p> + “Adderley!” I cried. “Adderley!” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply, and without further ceremony I entered and searched + the chambers. They were empty. Deeply mystified, I was about to go out + again when there came a ring at the door-bell. I walked to the door and a + policeman was standing upon the landing. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, sir,” he said, and then paused, staring at me curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, constable,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “You are not the gentleman who ran out awhile ago,” he said, a note of + suspicion coming into his voice. + </p> + <p> + I handed him my card and explained what had occurred, then: + </p> + <p> + “It must have been Mr. Adderley I saw,” muttered the constable. + </p> + <p> + “You saw—when?” + </p> + <p> + “Just before you arrived, sir. He came racing out into St. James's Street + and dashed off like a madman.” + </p> + <p> + “In which direction was he going?” + </p> + <p> + “Toward Pall Mall.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The neighbourhood was practically deserted at that hour. But from the + guard on duty before the palace we obtained our first evidence of + Adderley's movements. He had raced by some five minutes before, + frantically looking back over his shoulder and behaving like a man flying + for his life. No one else had seen him. No one else ever did see him + alive. At two o'clock there was no news, but I had informed Scotland Yard + and official inquiries had been set afoot. + </p> + <p> + Nothing further came to light that night, but as all readers of the daily + press will remember, Adderley's body was taken out of the pond in St. + James's Park on the following day. Death was due to drowning, but his + throat was greatly discoloured as though it had been clutched in a fierce + grip. + </p> + <p> + It was I who identified the body, and as many people will know, in spite + of the closest inquiries, the mystery of Adderley's death has not been + properly cleared up to this day. The identity of the lady who visited him + at his chambers was never discovered. She completely disappeared. + </p> + <p> + The ebony and ivory casket lies on my table at this present moment, + visible evidence of an invisible menace from which Adderley had fled + around the world. + </p> + <p> + Doubtless the truth will never be known now. A significant discovery, + however, was made some days after the recovery of Adderley's body. + </p> + <p> + From the bottom of the pond in St. James's Park a patient Scotland Yard + official brought up the gold nail-case with its mysterious engravings—and + it contained, torn at the root, the incredibly long finger-nail of the + Mandarin Quong! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE KEY OF THE TEMPLE OF HEAVEN + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + THE KEEPER OF THE KEY + </h3> + <p> + The note of a silver bell quivered musically through the scented air of + the ante-room. Madame de Medici stirred slightly upon the divan with its + many silken cushions, turning her head toward the closed door with the + languorous, almost insolent, indifference which one perceives in the + movements of a tigress. Below, in the lobby, where the pillars of Mokattam + alabaster upheld the painted roof, the little yellow man from Pekin + shivered slightly, although the air was warm for Limehouse, and always + turned his mysterious eyes toward a corner of the great staircase which + was visible from where he sat, coiled up, a lonely figure in the + mushrabiyeh chair. Madame blew a wreath of smoke from her lips, and, + through half-closed eyes, watched it ascend, unbroken, toward the canopy + of cloth-of-gold which masked the ceiling. A Madonna by Leonardo da Vinci + faced her across the apartment, the painted figure seeming to watch the + living one upon the divan. Madame smiled into the eyes of the Madonna. + Surely even the great Leonardo must have failed to reproduce that smile—the + great Leonardo whose supreme art has captured the smile of Mona Lisa. + Madame had the smile of Cleopatra, which, it is said, made Caesar mad, + though in repose the beauty of Egypt's queen left him cold. A robe of + Kashmiri silk, fine with a phantom fineness, draped her exquisite shape as + the art of Cellini draped the classic figures which he wrought in gold and + silver; it seemed incorporate with her beauty. + </p> + <p> + A second wreath of smoke curled upward to the canopy, and Madame watched + this one also through the veil of her curved black lashes, as the Eastern + woman watches the world through her veil. Those eyes were notable even in + so lovely a setting, for they were of a hue rarely seen in human eyes, + being like the eyes of a tigress; yet they could seem voluptuously soft, + twin pools of liquid amber, in whose depths a man might lose his soul. + </p> + <p> + Again the silver bell sounded in the ante-room, and, below, the little + yellow man shivered sympathetically. Again Madame stirred with that high + disdain that so became her, who had the eyes of a tigress. Her carmine + lips possessed the antique curve which we are told distinguished the lips + of the Comtesse de Cagliostro; her cheeks had the freshness of flowers, + and her hair the blackness of ebony, enhancing the miracle of her skin, + which had the whiteness of ivory—not of African ivory, but of that + fossil ivory which has lain for untold ages beneath the snows of Siberia. + </p> + <p> + She dropped the cigarette from her tapered fingers into a little silver + bowl upon a table at her side, then lightly touched the bell which stood + there also. Its soft note answered to the bell in the ante-room; a + white-robed Chinese servant silently descended the great staircase, his + soft red slippers sinking into the rich pile of the carpet; and the little + yellow man from the great temple in Pekin followed him back up the + stairway and was ushered into the presence of Madame de Medici. + </p> + <p> + The servant closed the door silently and the little yellow man, fixing his + eyes upon the beautiful woman before him, fell upon his knees and bowed + his forehead to the carpet. + </p> + <p> + Madame's lovely lips curved again in the disdainful smile, and she + extended one bare ivory arm toward the visitor who knelt as a suppliant at + her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Rise, my friend!” she said, in purest Chinese, which fell from her lips + with the music of a crystal spring. “How may I serve you?” + </p> + <p> + The yellow man rose and advanced a step nearer to the divan, but the + strange beauty of Madame had spoken straight to his Eastern heart, had + awakened his soul to a new life. His glance travelled over the vision + before him, from the little Persian slipper that peeped below the drapery + of Kashmir silk to the small classic head with its crown of ebon locks; + yet he dared not meet the glance of the amber eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Sit here beside me,” directed Madame, and she slightly changed her + position with that languorous and lithe grace suggestive of a creature of + the jungle. + </p> + <p> + Breathing rapidly betwixt the importance of his mission and a new, + intoxicating emotion which had come upon him at the moment of entering the + perfumed room, the yellow man obeyed, but always with glance averted from + the taunting face of Madame. A golden incense-burner stood upon the floor, + over between the high, draped windows, and a faint pencil from its dying + fires stole grayly upward. Upon the scented smoke the Buddhist priest + fixed his eyes, and began, with a rapidity that grew as he proceeded, to + pour out his tale. Seated beside him, one round arm resting upon the + cushions so as almost to touch him, Madame listened, watching the averted + yellow face, and always smiling—smiling. + </p> + <p> + The tale was done at last; the incense-burner was cold, and breathlessly + the Buddhist clutched his knees with lean, clawish fingers and swayed to + and fro, striving to conquer the emotions that whirled and fought within + him. Selecting another cigarette from the box beside her, and lighting it + deliberately, Madame de Medici spoke. + </p> + <p> + “My friend of old,” she said, and of the language of China she made + strange music, “you come to me from your home in the secret city, because + you know that I can serve you. It is enough.” + </p> + <p> + She touched the bell upon the table, and the white-robed servant + reentered, and, bowing low, held open the door. The little yellow man, + first kneeling upon the carpet before the divan as before an altar, + hurried from the apartment. As the door was reclosed, and Madame found + herself alone again, she laughed lightly, as Calypso laughed when Ulysses' + ship appeared off the shores of her isle. + </p> + <p> + God fashions few such women. It is well. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + THE TIGER LADY + </h3> + <p> + “By heavens, Annesley!” whispered Rene Deacon, “what eyes that woman has!” + His companion, following the direction of Deacon's glance, nodded rather + grimly. + </p> + <p> + “The eyes of a Circe, or at times the eyes of a tigress.” + </p> + <p> + “She is magnificent!” murmured Deacon rapturously. “I have never seen so + beautiful a woman.” + </p> + <p> + His glance followed the tall figure as it passed into a smaller salon on + the left; nor was he alone in his regard. Fashionable society was well + represented in the gallery—where a collection of pictures by a + celebrated artist was being shown; and prior to the entrance of the lady + in the strangely fashioned tiger-skin cloak, the somewhat extraordinary + works of art had engaged the interest even of the most fickle, but, from + the moment the tiger-lady made her appearance, even the most daring + canvases were forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “She wears tiger-skin shoes!” whispered one. + </p> + <p> + “She is like a design for a poster!” laughed another. + </p> + <p> + “I have never seen anything so flashy in my life,” was the acrid comment + of a third. + </p> + <p> + “What a dazzlingly beautiful woman!” remarked another—this one a + man. While: + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” arose upon all sides. + </p> + <p> + Judging from the isolation of the barbaric figure, it would seem that + society did not know the tiger-lady, but Deacon, seizing his companion by + the arm and almost dragging him into the small salon which the lady had + entered, turned in the doorway and looked into Annesley's eyes. Annesley + palpably sought to evade the glance. + </p> + <p> + “You know everybody,” whispered Deacon. “You must be acquainted with her.” + </p> + <p> + A great number of people were now thronging into the room, not so much + because of the pictures it contained, but rather out of curiosity + respecting the beautiful unknown. Annesley tried to withdraw; his + uneasiness grew momentarily greater. + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely know her well enough,” he protested, “to present you. Moreover———” + </p> + <p> + “But she's smiling at you!” interrupted Deacon eagerly. + </p> + <p> + His handsome but rather weak face was flushed; he was, as an old clubman + had recently said of him, “so very young.” He lacked the restraint usual + in cultured Englishmen, and had the frankly passionate manner which one + associates with the South. His uncle, Colonel Deacon, a mordant wit, would + say apologetically: + </p> + <p> + “Reggie” (Deacon's father) “married a Gascon woman. She was delightfully + pretty. Poor Reggie!” + </p> + <p> + Certainly Rene was impetuous to an embarrassing degree, nor lightly to be + thwarted. Boldly meeting the glance of the woman of the amber eyes, he + pushed Annesley forward, not troubling to disguise his anxiety to be + presented to the tiger-lady. She turned her head languidly, with that + wild-animal grace of hers, and unsmiling now, regarded Annesley. + </p> + <p> + “So you forget me so soon, Mr. Annesley,” she murmured, “or is it that you + play the good shepherd?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Madame,” said Annesley, recovering with an effort his wonted + sang-froid, “I was merely endeavouring to calm the rhapsodies of my + friend, who seemed disposed to throw himself at your feet in knight-errant + fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a very handsome boy,” murmured Madame; and as the great eyes were + turned upon Deacon the carmine lips curved again in the Cleopatrian smile. + </p> + <p> + She was indeed wonderful, for while she spoke as the woman of the world to + the boy, there was nothing maternal in her patronage, and her eyes were + twin flambeaux, luring—luring, and her sweet voice was a siren's + song. + </p> + <p> + “May I beg leave to present my friend, Mr. Rene Deacon, Madame de Medici?” + said Annesley; and as the two exchanged glances—the boy's a glance + of undisguised passionate admiration, the woman's a glance unfathomable—he + slightly shrugged his shoulders and stood aside. + </p> + <p> + There were others in the salon, who, perceiving that the unknown beauty + was acquainted with Annesley, began to move from canvas to canvas toward + that end of the room where the trio stood. But Madame did not appear + anxious to make new acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen quite enough of this very entertaining exhibition,” she said + languidly, toying with a great unset emerald which swung by a thin gold + chain about her neck. “Might I entreat you to take pity upon a very lonely + woman and return with me to tea?” + </p> + <p> + Annesley seemed on the point of refusing, when: + </p> + <p> + “I have acquired a reputed Leonardo,” continued Madame, “and I wish you to + see it.” + </p> + <p> + There was something so like a command in the words that Deacon stared at + his companion in frank surprise. The latter avoided his glance, and: + </p> + <p> + “Come!” said Madame de Medici. + </p> + <p> + As of old the great Catherine of her name might have withdrawn with her + suite, so now the lady of the tiger skins withdrew from the gallery, the + two men following obediently, and one of them at least a happy courtier. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <h3> + TWIN POOLS OF AMBER + </h3> + <p> + The white-robed Chinese servant entered and placed fresh perfume upon the + burning charcoal of the silver incense-burner. As the scented smoke began + to rise he withdrew, and a second servant entered, who facially, in dress, + in figure and bearing, was a duplicate of the first. This one carried a + large tray upon which was set an exquisite porcelain tea-service. He + placed the tray upon a low table beside the divan, and in turn withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Deacon, seated in a great ebony chair, smoked rapidly and nervously—looking + about the strangely appointed room with its huge picture of the Madonna, + its jade Buddha surmounting a gilded Burmese cabinet, its Persian canopy + and Egyptian divan, at the thousand and one costly curiosities which it + displayed, at this mingling of East and West, of Christianity and + paganism, with a growing wonder. + </p> + <p> + To one of his blood there was delight, intoxication, in that room; but + something of apprehension, too, now grew up within him. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Medici entered. The garish motor-coat was discarded now, and her + supple figure was seen to best advantage in one of those dark silken gowns + which she affected, and which had a seeming of the ultra-fashionable + because they defied fashion. She held in her hand an orchid, its structure + that of an odontoglossum, but of a delicate green colour heavily splashed + with scarlet—a weird and unnatural-looking bloom. + </p> + <p> + Just within the doorway she paused, as Deacon leaped up, and looked at him + through the veil of the curved lashes. + </p> + <p> + “For you,” she said, twirling the blossom between her fingers and gliding + toward him with her tigerish step. + </p> + <p> + He spoke no word, but, face flushed, sought to look into her eyes as she + pinned the orchid in the button-hole of his coat. Her hands were flawless + in shape and colouring, being beautiful as the sculptured hands preserved + in the works of Phidias. + </p> + <p> + The slight draught occasioned by the opening of the door caused the smoke + from the incense-burner to be wafted toward the centre of the room. Like a + blue-gray phantom it coiled about the two standing there upon a red and + gold Bedouin rug, and the heavy perfume, or the close proximity of this + singularly lovely woman, wrought upon the high-strung sensibilities of + Deacon to such an extent that he was conscious of a growing faintness. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You are not well!” exclaimed Madame with deep concern. “It is the + perfume which that foolish Ah Li has lighted. He forgets that we are in + England.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” protested Deacon faintly, and conscious that he was making a + fool of himself. “I think I have perhaps been overdoing it rather of late. + Forgive me if I sit down.” + </p> + <p> + He sank on the cushioned divan, his heart beating furiously, while Madame + touched the little bell, whereupon one of the servants entered. + </p> + <p> + She spoke in Chinese, pointing to the incense-burner. + </p> + <p> + Ah Li bowed and removed the censer. As the door softly reclosed: + </p> + <p> + “You are better?” she whispered, sweetly solicitous, and, seating herself + beside Deacon, she laid her hand lightly upon his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Quite,” he replied hoarsely; “please do not worry about me. I am + wondering what has become of Annesley.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the poor man!” exclaimed Madame, with a silver laugh, and began to + busy herself with the teacups. “He remembered, as he was looking at my new + Leonardo, an appointment which he had quite forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “I can understand his forgetting anything under the circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Medici raised a tiny cup and bent slightly toward him. He felt + that he was losing control of himself, and, averting his eyes, he stooped + and smelled the orchid in his buttonhole. Then, accepting the cup, he was + about to utter some light commonplace when the faintness returned + overwhelmingly, and, hurriedly replacing the cup upon the tray, he fell + back among the cushions. The stifling perfume of the place seemed to be + choking him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, poor boy! You are really not at all well. How sorry I am!” + </p> + <p> + The sweet tones reached him as from a great distance; but as one dying in + the desert turns his face toward the distant oasis, Deacon turned weakly + to the speaker. She placed one fair arm behind his head, pillowing him, + and with a peacock fan which had lain amid the cushions fanned his face. + The strange scene became wholly unreal to him; he thought himself some + dying barbaric chief. + </p> + <p> + “Rest there,” murmured the sweet voice. + </p> + <p> + The great eyes, unveiled now by the black lashes, were two twin lakes of + fairest amber. They seemed to merge together, so that he stood upon the + brink of an unfathomable amber pool—which swallowed him up—which + swallowed him up. + </p> + <p> + He awoke to an instantaneous consciousness of the fact that he had been + guilty of inexcusably bad form. He could not account for his faintness, + and reclining there amid the silken cushions, with Madame de Medici + watching him anxiously, he felt a hot flush stealing over his face. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with me!” he exclaimed, and sprang to his feet. “I + feel quite well now.” + </p> + <p> + She watched him, smiling, but did not speak. He was a “very young man” + again, and badly embarrassed. He glanced at his wrist-watch. + </p> + <p> + “Gracious heavens!” he cried, and noted that the tea-tray had been + removed, “there must be something radically wrong with my health. It is + nearly seven o'clock!” + </p> + <p> + The note of the silver bell sounded in the ante-room. + </p> + <p> + “Can you forgive me?” he said. + </p> + <p> + But Madame, rising to her feet, leaned lightly upon his shoulder, toying + with the petals of the orchid in his buttonhole. + </p> + <p> + “I think it was the perfume which that foolish Ah Li lighted,” she + whispered, looking intently into his eyes, “and it is you who have to + forgive me. But you will, I know!” The silver bell rang again. “When you + have come to see me again—many, many times, you will grow to love it—because + I love it.” + </p> + <p> + She touched the bell upon the table, and Ah Li entered silently. When + Madame de Medici held out her hand to him Deacon raised the white fingers + to his lips and kissed them rapturously; then he turned, the Gascon within + him uppermost again, and ran from the room. + </p> + <p> + A purple curtain was drawn across the lobby, screening the caller newly + arrived from the one so hurriedly departing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <h3> + THE LIVING BUDDHA + </h3> + <p> + It was past midnight when Colonel Deacon returned to the house. Rene was + waiting for him, pacing up and down the big library. Their relationship + was curious, as subsisting between ward and guardian, for these two, + despite the disparity of their ages, had few secrets from one another. + Rene burned to pour out his story of the wonderful Madame de Medici, of + the secret house in Chinatown with its deceptively mean exterior and its + gorgeous interior, to the shrewd and worldly elder man. That was his way. + But Fate had an oddly bitter moment in store for him. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo, boy!” cried the Colonel, looking into the library; “glad you're + home. I might not see you in the morning, and I want to tell you about—er—a + lady who will be coming here in the afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + The words died upon Rene's lips unspoken, and he stared blankly at the + Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I knew all there was to know about pictures, antiques, and all + that sort of lumber,” continued Colonel Deacon in his rapid and off-hand + manner. “Thought there weren't many men in London could teach me anything; + certainly never suspected a woman could. But I've met one, boy! Gad! What + a splendid creature! You know there isn't much in the world I haven't seen—north, + south, east and west. I know all the advertised beauties of Europe and + Asia—stage, opera, and ballet, and all the rest of them. But this + one—Gad!” + </p> + <p> + He dropped into an arm-chair, clapping both his hands upon his knees. Rene + stood at the farther end of the library, in the shadow, watching him. + </p> + <p> + “She's coming here to-morrow, boy—coming here. Gad! you dog! You'll + fall in love with her the moment you see her—sure to, sure to! I + did, and I'm three times your age!” + </p> + <p> + “Who is this lady, sir?” asked Rene, very quietly. + </p> + <p> + “God knows, boy! Everybody's mad to meet her, but nobody knows who she is. + But wait till you see her. Lady Dascot seems to be acquainted with her, + but you will see when they come to-morrow—see for yourself. Gad, + boy!... what did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Thought you did. Have a whisky-and-soda?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, sir—good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, boy!” cried the Colonel. “Good night. Don't forget to be in + to-morrow afternoon or you'll miss meeting the loveliest woman in London, + and the most brilliant.” + </p> + <p> + “What is her name?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? She calls herself Madame de Medici. She's a mystery, but what a + splendid creature!” + </p> + <p> + Rene Deacon walked slowly upstairs, entered his bedroom, and for fully an + hour sat in the darkness, thinking—thinking. + </p> + <p> + “Am I going mad?” he murmured. “Or is this witch driving all London mad?” + </p> + <p> + He strove to recover something of the glamour which had mastered him when + in the presence of Madame de Medici, but failed. Yet he knew that, once + near her again, it would all return. His reflections were bitter, and when + at last wearily he undressed and went to bed it was to toss restlessly far + into the small hours ere sleep came to soothe his troubled mind. + </p> + <p> + But his sleep was disturbed: a series of dreadfully realistic dreams + danced through his brain. First he seemed to be standing upon a high + mountain peak with eternal snows stretched all about him. He looked down, + past the snow line, past the fir woods, into the depths of a lovely lake, + far down in the valley below. It was a lake of liquid amber, and as he + looked it seemed to become two lakes, and they were like two great eyes + looking up at him and summoning him to leap. He thought that he leaped, a + prodigious leap, far out into space; then fell—fell—fell. When + he splashed into the amber deeps they became churned up in a milky foam, + and this closed about him with a strangle grip. But it was no longer foam, + but the clinging arms of Madame de Medici!... + </p> + <p> + Then he stood upon a fragile bridge of bamboo spanning a raging torrent. + Right and left of the torrent below were jungles in which moved tigerish + shapes. Upon the farther side of the bridge Madame de Medici, clad in a + single garment of flame-coloured silk, beckoned to him. He sought to cross + the bridge, but it collapsed, and he fell near the edge of the torrent. + Below were the raging waters, and ever nearing him the tigerish shapes, + which now Madame was calling to as to a pack of hounds. They were about to + devour him, when——— + </p> + <p> + He was crouching upon a ledge, high above a street which seemed to be + vaguely familiar. He could not see very well, because of a silk mask tied + upon his face, and the eyeholes of which were badly cut. From the ledge he + stepped to another, perilously. He gained it, and crouching there, where + there was scarce foothold for a cat, he managed fully to raise a window + which already was raised some six inches. Then softly and silently—for + he was bare-footed—he entered the room. + </p> + <p> + Someone slept in a bed facing the window by which he had entered, and upon + a table at the side of the sleeper lay a purse, a bunch of keys, an + electric torch, and a Service revolver. Gliding to the table Rene took the + keys and the electric torch, unlocked the door of the room, and crept down + a thickly carpeted stair to a room below. The door of this also he opened + with one of the keys in the bunch, and by the light of the torch found his + way through a quantity of antique furniture and piled up curiosities to a + safe set in the farther wall. + </p> + <p> + He seemed, in his dream, to be familiar with the lock combination, and, + selecting the correct key from the bunch, he soon had the safe open. The + shelves within were laden principally with antique jewellery, statuettes, + medals, scarabs; and a number of little leather-covered boxes were there + also. One of these he abstracted, relocked the safe, and stepped out of + the room, locking the door behind him. Up the stairs he mounted to the + bedroom wherein he had left the sleeper. Having entered, he locked the + door from within, placed the keys and the torch upon the table, and crept + out again upon the dizzy ledge. + </p> + <p> + Poised there, high above the thoroughfare below, a great nausea attacked + him. Glancing to the right, in the direction of the window through which + he had come, he perceived Madame de Medici leaning out and beckoning to + him. Her arm gleamed whitely in the faint light. A new courage came to + him. He succeeded, crouched there upon the narrow ledge, in relowering the + window, and leaving it in the state in which he had found it, he stood up + and essayed that sickly stride to the adjoining ledge. He accomplished it, + knelt, and crept back into the room from which he had started.... + </p> + <p> + The head of an ivory image of Buddha loomed up out of the utter darkness, + growing and growing until it seemed like a great mountain. He could not + believe that there was so much ivory in the world, and he felt it with his + fingers, wonderingly. As he did so it began to shrink, and shrink, and + shrink, and shrink, until it was no larger than a seated human figure. + Then beneath his trembling hands it became animate; it moved, extended + ivory arms, and wrapped them about his neck. Its lips became carmine—perfumed; + they bent to him... and he was looking into the bewitching face of Madame + de Medici! + </p> + <p> + He awoke, gasping for air and bathed in cold perspiration. The dawn was + just breaking over London and stealing grayly from object to object in his + bedroom. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <h3> + THE IVORY GOD + </h3> + <p> + The great car, with its fittings of gold and ivory, drew up at the door of + Colonel Deacon's house. The interior was ablaze with tiger lilies, and out + from their midst stepped the fairest of them all—Madame de Medici, + and swept queenly up the steps upon the arm of the cavalierly soldier. + </p> + <p> + All connoisseurs esteemed it a privilege to view the Deacon collection, + and this afternoon there was a goodly gathering. Chairs and little white + tables were dotted about the lawn in shady spots, and the majority of the + company were already assembled; but when, in a wonderful golden robe, + Madame de Medici glided across the lawn, the babel ceased abruptly as if + by magic. She pulled off one glove and began twirling a great emerald + between her slim fingers. It was suspended from a thin gold chain. + Presently, descrying Annesley seated at a table with Lady Dascot, she + raised the jewel languidly and peered through it at the two. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” exclaimed Rene Deacon, who stood close beside her, “that was a + trick of Nero's!” + </p> + <p> + Madame laughed musically. + </p> + <p> + “One might take a worse model,” she said softly; “at least he enjoyed + life.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Deacon, who listened to her every word as to the utterance of a + Cumaean oracle, laughed with extraordinary approbation. + </p> + <p> + There was scarce a woman present who regarded Madame with a friendly eye, + nor a man who did not aspire to become her devoted slave. She brought an + atmosphere of unreality with her, dominating old and young alike by virtue + of her splendid pagan beauty. The lawn, with its very modern appointments, + became as some garden of the Golden House, a pleasure ground of an + emperor. + </p> + <p> + But later, when the company entered the house, and Colonel Deacon sought + to monopolize the society of Madame, an unhealthy spirit of jealousy arose + between Rene and his guardian. It was strange, grotesque, horrible almost. + Annesley watched from afar, and there was something very like anger in his + glance. + </p> + <p> + “And this,” said the Colonel presently, taking up an exquisitely carved + ivory Buddha, “has a strange history. In some way a legend has grown up + around it—it is of very great age—to the effect that it must + always cause its owner to lose his most cherished possession.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said the silvern voice, “that you, who possess so many + beautiful things, should consent to have so ill-omened a curiosity in your + house.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not fear the evil charm of this little ivory image,” said Colonel + Deacon, “although its history goes far to bear out the truth of the + legend. Its last possessor lost his most cherished possession a month + after the Buddha came into his hands. He fell down his own stairs—and + lost his life!” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Medici languidly surveyed the figure through the upraised + emerald. + </p> + <p> + “Really!” she murmured. “And the one from whom he procured it?” + </p> + <p> + “A Hindu usurer of Simla,” replied the Colonel. “His daughter stole it + from her father together with many other things, and took them to her + lover, with whom she fled!” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Medici seemed to be slightly interested. + </p> + <p> + “I should love to possess so weird a thing,” she said softly. + </p> + <p> + “It is yours!” exclaimed the Colonel, and placed it in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but really,” she protested. + </p> + <p> + “But really I insist—in order that you may not forget your first + visit to my house!” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “How very kind you are, Colonel Deacon,” she said, “to a rival collector!” + </p> + <p> + “Now that the menace is removed,” said Colonel Deacon with laboured + humour, “I will show you my most treasured possession.” + </p> + <p> + “So! I am greatly interested.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even this rascal Rene,” said the Colonel, stopping before a safe set + in the wall, “has seen what I am about to show you!” + </p> + <p> + Rene started slightly and watched with intense interest the unlocking of + the safe. + </p> + <p> + “If I am not superstitious about the ivory Buddha,” continued the Colonel, + “I must plead guilty in the case of the Key of the Temple of Heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “The Key of the Temple of Heaven!” murmured a lady standing immediately + behind Madame de Medici. “And what is the Key of the Temple of Heaven?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel, having unlocked the safe, straightened himself, and while + everyone was waiting to see what he had to show, began to speak again + pompously: + </p> + <p> + “The Temple of Heaven stands in the outer or Chinese City of Pekin, and is + fabulously wealthy. No European, I can swear, had ever entered its secret + chambers until last year. One of its most famous treasures was this Key. + It was used only to open the special entrance reserved for the Emperor + when he came to worship after his succession to the throne—that was, + of course, before China became a Republic. The Key is studded almost all + over with precious stones. Last year a certain naval man—I'll not + mention his name—discovered the secret of its hiding-place. How he + came by that knowledge does not matter at present. One very dark night he + crept up to the temple. He found the Keeper of the Key—a Buddhist + priest—to be sleeping, and he succeeded, therefore, in gaining + access and becoming possessed of the Key.” + </p> + <p> + A chorus of excited exclamations greeted this dramatic point of the story. + </p> + <p> + “The object of this outrage,” continued the Colonel, “for an outrage I + cannot deny it to have been, was not a romantic one. The poor chap wanted + money, and he thought he could sell the Key to one of the native + jewellers. But he was mistaken. He got back safely, and secretly offered + it in various directions. No one would touch the thing; moreover, although + of great value, the stones were very far from flawless, and not really + worth the risks which he had run to secure them. Don't misunderstand me; + the Key would fetch a big sum, but not a fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” said Madame de Medici, smiling, for the Colonel paused. + </p> + <p> + “He packed it up and addressed it to me, together with a letter. The price + that he asked was quite a moderate one, and when the Key arrived in + England I dispatched a check immediately. It never reached him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” cried many whom this strange story had profoundly interested. + </p> + <p> + “He was found dead at the back of the native cantonments, with a knife in + his heart!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Lady Dascot. “How positively ghastly! I don't think I want + to see the dreadful thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” murmured Madame de Medici, turning languidly to the speaker. “I + do.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel stooped and reached into the safe. Then he began to take out + object after object, box after box. Finally, he straightened himself + again, and all saw that his face was oddly blanched. + </p> + <p> + “It's gone!” he whispered hoarsely. “The Key of the Temple of Heaven has + been stolen!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <h3> + MADAME SMILES + </h3> + <p> + Rene entered his bedroom, locked the door, and seated himself on the bed; + then he lowered his head into his hands and clutched at his hair + distractedly. Since, on his uncle's own showing, no one knew that the Key + of the Temple of Heaven had been in the safe, since, excepting himself + (Rene) and the Colonel, no one else knew the lock combination, how the Key + had been stolen was a mystery which defied conjecture. No one but the + Colonel had approached within several yards of the safe at the time it was + opened; so that clearly the theft had been committed prior to that time. + </p> + <p> + Now Rene sought to recall the details of a strange dream which he had + dreamed immediately before awakening on the previous night; but he sought + in vain. His memory could supply only blurred images. There had been a + safe in his dream, and he—was it he or another?—had unlocked + it. Also there had been an enormous ivory Buddha.... Yet, stay! it had not + been enormous; it had been... + </p> + <p> + He groaned at his own impotency to recall the circumstances of that + mysterious, perhaps prophetic dream; then in despair he gave it up, and + stooping to a little secretaire, unlocked it with the idea of sending a + note round to Annesley's chambers. As he did so he uttered a loud cry. + </p> + <p> + Lying in one of the pigeon-holes was a long piece of black silk, + apparently torn from the lining of an opera hat. In it two holes were cut + as if it were intended to be used as a mask. Beside it lay a little + leather-covered box. He snatched it out and opened it. It was empty! + </p> + <p> + “Am I going mad?” he groaned. “Or———” + </p> + <p> + “You are wanted on the 'phone, sir.” + </p> + <p> + It was the butler who had interrupted him. Rene descended to the + telephone, dazedly, but, recognizing the voice of Annesley, roused + himself. + </p> + <p> + “I'm leaving town to-night, Deacon,” said Annesley, “for—well, many + reasons. But before I go I must give you a warning, though I rely on you + never to mention my name in the matter. Avoid the woman who calls herself + Madame de Medici; she'll break you. She's an adventuress, and has a + dangerous acquaintance with Eastern cults, and... I can't explain + properly....” + </p> + <p> + “Annesley! the Key!” + </p> + <p> + “It's the theft of the Key that has prompted me to speak, Deacon. Madame + has some sort of power—hypnotic power. She employed it on me once, + to my cost! Paul Harley, of Chancery Lane, can tell you more about her. + The house she's living in temporarily used to belong to a notorious + Eurasian, Zani Chada. To make a clean breast of it I daren't thwart her + openly; but I felt it up to me to tell you that she possesses the secret + of post-hypnotic suggestion. I may be wrong, but I think you stole that + Key!” + </p> + <p> + “I!” + </p> + <p> + “She hypnotized you at some time, and, by means of this uncanny power of + hers, ordered you to steal the Key of the Temple of Heaven in such and + such a fashion at a certain hour in the night...” + </p> + <p> + “I had a strange seizure while I was at her house....” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly! During that time you were receiving your hypnotic orders. You + would remember nothing of them until the time to execute them—which + would probably be during sleep. In a state of artificial somnambulism, and + under the direction of Madame's will, you became a burglar!” + </p> + <p> + As Madame de Medici's car drove off from the house of Colonel Deacon, and + Madame seated herself in the cushioned corner, up from amid the furs upon + the floor, where, dog-like, he had lain concealed, rose the little yellow + man from the Temple of Heaven. He extended eager hands toward her, + kneeling there, and spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Quick! quick!” he breathed. “You have it? The Key of the Temple.” + </p> + <p> + Madame held in her hand an ivory Buddha. Inverting it she unscrewed the + pedestal, and out from the hollow inside the image dropped a gleaming Key. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” breathed the yellow man, and would have clutched it; but Madame + disdainfully raised her right hand which held the treasure, and with her + left hand thrust down the clutching yellow fingers. + </p> + <p> + She dropped the Key between her white skin and the bodice of her gown, + tossing the ivory figure contemptuously amid the fur. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” repeated the yellow man in a different tone, and his eyes gleamed + with the flame of fanaticism. He slowly uprose, a sinister figure, and + with distended fingers prepared to seize Madame by the throat. His eyes + were bloodshot, his nostrils were dilated, and his teeth were exposed like + the fangs of a wolf. + </p> + <p> + But she pulled off her glove and stretched out her bare white hand to him + as a queen to a subject; she raised the long curved lashes, and the great + amber eyes looked into the angry bloodshot eyes. + </p> + <p> + The little yellow man began to breathe more and more rapidly; soon he was + panting like one in a fight to the death who is all but conquered. At last + he dropped on his knees amid the fur... and the curling lashes were + lowered again over the blazing amber eyes that had conquered. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Medici lowered her beautiful white hand, and the little yellow + man seized it in both his own and showered rapturous kisses upon it. + </p> + <p> + Madame smiled slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little yellow man!” she murmured in sibilant Chinese, “you shall + never return to the Temple of Heaven!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Chinatown, by Sax Rohmer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF CHINATOWN *** + +***** This file should be named 5697-h.htm or 5697-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/9/5697/ + +Produced by Alan Johns, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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