chinatown was being watched as chinatown had never been watched before, even during the most stringent enforcement of the defence of the realm act. k division was on its mettle, and scotland yard had sent to aid chief inspector kerry every man that could be spared to the task. the river police, too, were aflame with zeal; for every officer in the service whose work lay east of london bridge had appropriated to himself the stigma implied by the creation of lord wrexborough's commission.
“corners” in foodstuffs, metals, and other indispensable commodities are appreciated by every man, because every man knows such things to exist; but a corner in drugs was something which the east end police authorities found very difficult to grasp. they could not free their minds of the traditional idea that every second chinaman in the causeway was a small importer. they were seeking a hundred lesser stores instead of one greater one. not all seton's quiet explanations nor kerry's savage language could wean the higher local officials from their ancient beliefs. they failed to conceive the idea of a wealthy syndicate conducted by an educated chinaman and backed, covered, and protected by a crooked gentleman and accomplished man of affairs.
perhaps they knew and perhaps they knew not, that during the period ruled by d.o.r.a. as much as l25 was paid by habitues for one pipe of chandu. the power of gold is often badly estimated by an official whose horizon is marked by a pension. this is mere lack of imagination, and no more reflects discredit upon a man than lack of hair on his crown or of color in his cheeks. nevertheless, it may prove very annoying.
towards the close of an afternoon which symbolized the worst that london's particular climate can do in the matter of drizzling rain and gloom, chief inspector kerry, carrying an irritable toy spaniel, came out of a turning which forms a v with limehouse canal, into a narrow street which runs parallel with the thames. he had arrived at the conclusion that the neighborhood was sown so thickly with detectives that one could not throw a stone without hitting one. yet sin sin wa had quietly left his abode and had disappeared from official ken.
three times within the past ten minutes the spaniel had tried to bite kerry, nor was kerry blind to the amusement which his burden had occasioned among the men of k division whom he had met on his travels. finally, as he came out into the riverside lane, the ill-tempered little animal essayed a fourth, and successful, attempt, burying his wicked white teeth in the chief inspector's wrist.
kerry hooked his finger into the dog's collar, swung the yapping animal above his head, and hurled it from him into the gloom and rain mist.
“hell take the blasted thing!” he shouted. “i'm done with it!”
he tenderly sucked his wounded wrist, and picking up his cane, which he had dropped, he looked about him and swore savagely. of seton pasha he had had news several times during the day, and he was aware that the home office agent was not idle. but to that old rivalry which had leapt up anew when he had seen seton near kennington oval had succeeded a sort of despair; so that now he would have welcomed the information that seton had triumphed where he had failed. a furious hatred of the one-eyed chinaman around whom he was convinced the mystery centred had grown up within his mind. at that hour he would gladly have resigned his post and sacrificed his pension to know that sin sin wa was under lock and key. his outlook was official, and accordingly peculiar. he regarded the murder of sir lucien pyne and the flight or abduction of mrs. monte irvin as mere minor incidents in a case wherein sin sin wa figured as the chief culprit. nothing had acted so powerfully to bring about this conviction in the mind of the chief inspector as the inexplicable disappearance of the chinaman under circumstances which had apparently precluded such a possibility.
a whimpering cry came to kerry's ears; and because beneath the mask of ferocity which he wore a humane man was concealed: “flames!” he snapped; “perhaps i've broken the poor little devil's leg.”
shaking a cascade of water from the brim of his neat bowler, he set off through the murk towards the spot from whence the cries of the spaniel seemed to proceed. a few paces brought him to the door of a dirty little shop. in a window close beside it appeared the legend:
sam tuk
barber.
the spaniel crouched by the door whining and scratching, and as kerry came up it raised its beady black eyes to him with a look which, while it was not unfearful, held an unmistakable appeal. kerry stood watching the dog for a moment, and as he watched he became conscious of an exhilarated pulse.
he tried the door and found it to be open. thereupon he entered a dirty little shop, which he remembered to have searched in person in the grey dawn of the day which now was entering upon a premature dusk. the dog ran in past him, crossed the gloomy shop, and raced down into a tiny coal cellar, which likewise had been submitted during the early hours of the morning to careful scrutiny under the directions of the chief inspector.
a chinese boy, who had been the only occupant of the place on that occasion and who had given his name as ah fung, was surprised by the sudden entrance of man and dog in the act of spreading coal dust with his fingers upon a portion of the paved floor. he came to his feet with a leap and confronted kerry. the spaniel began to scratch feverishly upon the spot where the coal dust had been artificially spread. kerry's eyes gleamed like steel. he shot out his hand and grasped the chinaman by his long hair. “open that trap,” he said, “or i'll break you in half!”
ah fung's oblique eyes regarded him with an expression difficult to analyze, but partly it was murder. he made no attempt to obey the order. meanwhile the dog, whining and scratching furiously, had exposed the greater part of a stone slab somewhat larger than those adjoining it, and having a large crack or fissure in one end.
“for the last time,” said kerry, drawing the man's head back so that his breath began to whistle through his nostrils, “open that trap.”
as he spoke he released ah fung, and ah fung made one wild leap towards the stairs. kerry's fist caught him behind the ear as he sprang, and he went down like a dead man upon a small heap of coal which filled the angle of the cellar.
breathing rapidly and having his teeth so tightly clenched that his maxillary muscles protruded lumpishly, kerry stood looking at the fallen man. but ah fung did not move. the dog had ceased to scratch, and now stood uttering short staccato barks and looking up at the chief inspector. otherwise there was no sound in the house, above or below.
kerry stooped, and with his handkerchief scrupulously dusted the stone slab. the spaniel, resentment forgotten, danced excitedly beside him and barked continuously.
“there's some sort of hook to fit in that crack,” muttered kerry.
he began to hunt about among the debris which littered one end of the cellar, testing fragment after fragment, but failing to find any piece of scrap to suit his purpose. by sheer perseverance rather than by any process of reasoning, he finally hit upon the piece of bent wire which was the key to this door of sin sin wa's drug warehouse.
one short exclamation of triumph he muttered at the moment that his glance rested upon it, and five seconds later he had the trapdoor open and was peering down into the narrow pit in which wooden steps rested. the spaniel began to bark wildly, whereupon kerry grasped him, tucked him under his arm, and ran up to the room above, where he deposited the furiously wriggling animal. he stepped quickly back again and closed the upper door. by this act he plunged the cellar into complete darkness, and accordingly he took out from the pocket of his rain-drenched overall the electric torch which he always carried. directing its ray downwards into the cellar, he perceived ah fung move and toss his hand above his head. he also detected a faint rattling sound.
“ah!” said kerry.
he descended, and stooping over the unconscious man extracted from the pocket of his baggy blue trousers four keys upon a ring. at these kerry stared eagerly. two of them belonged to yale locks; the third was a simple english barrel-key, which probably fitted a padlock; but the fourth was large and complicated.
“looks like the key of a jail,” he said aloud.
he spoke with unconscious prescience. this was the key of the door of the vault. removing his overall, kerry laid it with his cane upon the scrap-heap, then he climbed down the ladder and found himself in the mouth of that low timbered tunnel, like a trenchwork, which owed its existence to the cunning craftsmanship of sin sin wa. stooping uncomfortably, he made his way along the passage until the massive door confronted him. he was in no doubt as to which key to employ; his mental condition was such that he was indifferent to the dangers which probably lay before him.
the well-oiled lock operated smoothly. kerry pushed the door open and stepped briskly into the vault.
his movements, from the moment that he had opened the trap, had been swift and as nearly noiseless as the difficulties of the task had permitted. nevertheless, they had not been so silent as to escape the attention of the preternaturally acute sin sin wa. kerry found the place occupied only by the aged sam tuk. a bright fire burned in the stove, and a ship's lantern stood upon the counter. dense chemical fumes rendered the air difficult to breathe; but the shelves, once laden with the largest illicit collection of drugs in london, were bare.
kerry's fierce eyes moved right and left; his jaws worked automatically. sam tuk sat motionless, his hands concealed in his sleeves, bending decrepitly forward in his chair. then:
“hi! guy fawkes!” rapped kerry, striding forward. “who's been letting off fire-works?”
sam tuk nodded senilely, but spoke not a word.
kerry stooped and stared into the heart of the fire. a dense coat of white ash lay upon the embers. he grasped the shoulder of the aged chinaman, and pushed him back so that he could look into the bleared eyes behind the owlish spectacles.
“been cleaning up the 'evidence,' eh?” he shouted. “this joint stinks of opium and a score of other dopes. where are the gang?” he shook the yielding, ancient frame. “where's the smart with one eye?”
but sam tuk merely nodded, and as kerry released his hold sank forward again, nodding incessantly.
“h'm, you're a hard case,” said the chief inspector. “a couple of witnesses like you and the jury would retire to bedlam!”
he stood glaring fiercely at the limp frame of the old chinaman, and as he glared his expression changed. lying on the dirty floor not a yard from sam tuk's feet was a ball of leaf opium!
“ha!” exclaimed kerry, and he stooped to pick it up.
as he did so, with a lightning movement of which the most astute observer could never have supposed him capable, sam tuk whipped a loaded rubber tube from his sleeve and struck kerry a shrewd blow across the back of the skull.
the chief inspector, without word or cry, collapsed upon his knees, and then fell gently forward—forward—and toppled face downwards before his assailant. his bowler fell off and rolled across the dirty floor.
sam tuk sank deeply into his chair, and his toothless jaws worked convulsively. the skinny hand which clutched the piece of tubing twitched and shook, so that the primitive deadly weapon fell from its wielder's grasp.
silently, that set of empty shelves nearest to the inner wall of the vault slid open, and sin sin wa came out. he, too, carried his hands tucked in his sleeves, and his yellow, pock-marked face wore its eternal smile.
“well done,” he crooned softly in chinese. “well done, bald father of wisdom. the dogs draw near, but the old fox sleeps not.”
