THE MAN WITH THE PICTURE-EYES.
"Good evening."
It was the leader of the gang who had spoken, smiling and rubbing his
hands softly the one on the other, as pleased, apparently, as any
purring cat.
"Good evening," I responded curtly.
"May we ask to what we owe the pleasure of your presence here?" he
continued suavely, but watching me closely meanwhile.
"My presence here?" I said, as if surprised by the question. "Why
shouldn't I come here, any more than you? It is a public place, isn't
it? And I came here to smoke opium, as you and your friends have done,
I suppose; just as one goes to a tavern for a glass of beer."
"Not at all," he replied. "This is a private house, just as much as
your own house is, and you have no more right to force your way into
it, than I have to force myself into yours. You stand in the position
of a trespasser. For all I know to the contrary, you may even be what
in America they call an area sneak-thief, except for the fact that you
have sneaked your way to the top of the house instead of to the area.
May I ask who directed you here? I _must_ ask, for I insist upon having
an answer."
"'Must' and 'insist' are not palatable words or pleasant," I said; "but
I don't know that I have any objection to tell you. It was a negro
match-seller whom I saw outside Poplar Station. I offered him two
shillings if he would take me to an opium den, and it was to this house
he led me."
"Ah! A negro match-seller, and outside Poplar Station. Oh, yes. I think
I know the fellow. We must look into this."
He stopped to cast a sidelong glance at the other man, who nodded and,
walking to the door, stood whispering to his two confederates outside.
Fearing that they were planning to attack me from behind, I twisted my
head slightly so as to keep half an eye and the whole of an ear towards
them, but not so much so as not to have the other eye open to any
movement of their leader, who was still in the room. As he was silent,
I was now able to give both ears to the whispering outside; but what
it was about I could not for all the sharpness of my hearing make out,
except for the fact that I distinctly caught the words "Black Sam."
Then, greatly to my relief, the two men, with whom the fellow at the
door was whispering, nodded and took their departure, clumping heavily
down the staircase to the second landing, to the first, and thence to
the door. Here I distinctly heard a sound as of the letting go of a
spring latch, which in all probability locked the door from the inside.
Then the door was banged to, as if to ensure that it was securely
shut; but even this did not satisfy them, for, if I were not very much
mistaken, they tried it, before leaving, by pushing heavily against it
from the outside.
To know that the front door of the house was in all probability locked,
and that, if my hosts and I came to hand-grips, my chances of escaping,
by making a bolt for the street, were now cut off, was not reassuring.
But I drew what consolation I could from the fact that the assailing
force by which I was surrounded was reduced from six to four--two in
the room and two on the staircase outside; and so I put as bold a
face as I could upon it when the man, who had been cross-examining me,
opened fire once more, his companion standing meanwhile just inside the
door.
"And now, sir," resumed the counsel for the prosecution, "that we know
to whom we are indebted for the pleasure of your company here, will you
be so very good as to tell us why you are here at all?"
Thus far I had told him the truth, and I saw no reason why I should not
continue to do so. It was Lord Beaconsfield, I think, who said that,
when he wished to mystify his opponents, he almost invariably did so by
telling them the truth. That being the last thing they expected from
him, they would jump to the conclusion that the facts were the other
way about, and so go hopelessly wrong at the start.
My reasons for deciding to be frank were based upon no such subtlety.
That I had, quite unintentionally, blundered into a den of criminals,
seemed evident; and undoubtedly the next best thing to do was to get
out. I am not, I hope, altogether a coward, but one man, caught as I
was, like a rat in a trap, is no match for four, possibly for six--for
how was I to know that the two who had been stationed outside the
door, and had apparently departed upon some errand, might not return?
I could not even be positive that they had not been told off to wait
for me in the dark court outside, so that in the event of my managing
to escape unharmed from the house, they might prevent me from reaching
the street. In coming to the place at all, I had beyond question put my
head between the jaws of a lion; and the man who, with his head between
a lion's jaws, plays the fool by trying to twist the beast's tail, must
not be surprised if, within the next two seconds, his own head be not
on speaking, or even on nodding terms, with his own body.
"I don't mind telling you why I'm here," I said civilly. "Why should
I? It is only because I have been asked to write an article on opium
dens for the _Charing Cross Magazine_. The den I visited once before in
Ratcliff Highway has been pulled down, and a big Board School built on
the site. I knew that there were dens somewhere in the neighbourhood of
Limehouse Causeway, but I didn't know exactly where to find them, so I
took the train to Poplar, gave a negro match-seller--who, I guessed,
knew something of the locality--a couple of shillings to take me to
'where they smoked the opium.' He brought me here, where I am, and
where apparently I ought not to be, judging by what you say. If I have
intruded or trespassed, I'm sorry. So, with your kind permission, sir,
I'll say 'Good evening' and take myself off."
"Stop a moment," he said, looking at me more amicably. "Your
explanation is quite straightforward and satisfactory, and now that
you've made it, I don't mind telling you the reason for what you must
have thought strange behaviour on our part.
"This place, as you see for yourself, is an opium den, and these
gentlemen," indicating the Chinamen on the mattresses, the two men at
the foot of the stairs, and his companion, "are sailors. Opium smoking
is forbidden among sailors in the employ of English vessels, and we
thought when you came in that you were an officer from one of the
vessels, who had managed to find out the den, and had come here to make
yourself unpleasant. That is why I sent those men to guard the door
and the stairs. If you had been what we thought you--well, I'm afraid
you'd have been rather roughly handled. We don't intend to allow ships'
officers, or anyone else, to come here interfering with our pleasures
or with our takings, for, of course, we don't run the den out of
charity. Now that I know it's all right, I'll just have a word with my
friends on the stairs, and tell them that they needn't stand on guard
any more. They'll be glad to get away, for they are thirsty rascals
both, and were just off for a drink when you came in."
Taking his companion by the arm, he walked out upon the landing, where
all four of them began whispering together.
Scarcely were they out of the room when, from the mattress where the
two Chinamen lay, a single word, uttered softly, warningly, stealthily,
almost in a whisper, under the breath, reached my ear.
It was my own Christian name, spoken in unmistakable English: "Max!"