ever seen before--a quietly but well-dressed man about whom there was a
distinct air of authority. They walked down the room to a table near
the counter, ordered coffee and lighted cigarettes--and the two young
Scotsmen, watching them closely, saw that they took a careful look
round as if to ascertain the strength of their forces. And suddenly, as
Lauriston was eating his second sandwich, the Inspector rose, quietly
walked to the counter and bending over it, spoke to one of the
white-aproned men behind.
"The game's begun!" whispered Lauriston. "Look!"
But Purdie's eyes were already fixed on the Pilmanseys, whom he
recognized as important actors in the drama about to be played. One of
them slightly taller, slightly greyer than the other, was leaning
forward to the Inspector, and was evidently amazed at what was being
said to him, for he started, glanced questioningly at his visitor,
exchanged a hurried word or two with him and then turned to his
brother. A second later, both men laid down their great knives and
forks, left their counter, and beckoned the Inspector to follow them
into a room at the rear of the shop. And the Inspector in his turn,
beckoned Ayscough with a mere glance, and Ayscough in his, made an
inviting movement to the rest of the party.
"Come on!" said Purdie. "Let's hear what's happening."
The proprietors of the tea-rooms had led the Inspector and the man who
was with him into what was evidently a private room--and when Lauriston
and Purdie reached the door they were standing on the hearth rug, side
by side, each in a very evident state of amazement, staring at a
document which the Inspector was displaying to them. They looked up
from it to glance with annoyance, at the other men who came quietly and
expectantly crowding into the room.
"More of your people?" asked the elder man, querulously. "Look here,
you know!--we don't see the need for all this fuss, not for your
interrupting our business in this way! One or two of you, surely, would
have been enough without bringing a troop of people on to our
premises--all this is unnecessary!"
"You'll allow us to be the best judge of what's necessary and what
isn't, Mr. Pilmansey," retorted the Inspector. "There'll be no fuss, no
bother--needn't be, anyway, if you tell us what we want to know, and
don't oppose us in what we've got power to do. Here's a
warrant--granted on certain information--to search your premises. If
you'll let us do that quietly."
"But for what reason?" demanded the younger man. "Our premises, indeed!
Been established here a good hundred years, and never a word against
us. What do you want to search for?"
"I'll tell you that at once," answered the Inspector. "We want a young
Chinaman, one Chang Li, who, we are informed, is concealed here, and
has valuable stolen property on him. Now, then, do you know anything
about him? Is he here?"
The two men exchanged glances. For a moment they remained silent--then
the elder man spoke, running his eye over the expectant faces watching
him.
"Before I say any more," he answered, "I should just like to know where
you got your information from?"
"No!" replied the Inspector, firmly. "I shan't tell you. But I'll tell
you this much--this Chang Li is wanted on a very serious charge as it
is, and we may charge him with something much more serious. We've
positive information that he's here--and I'm only giving you sound
advice when I say that if he is here, you'll do well to show us where
he is. Now, come, Mr. Pilmansey, is he here?"
The elder Pilmansey shook his head--but the shake was more one of doubt
than of denial.
"I can't say," he answered. "He might be."
"What's that mean?" demanded the Inspector. "Might be? Surely you know
who's in your own house!"
"No!" said the elder man, "I can't say. It's this way--we've a certain
number of foreigners come here. There are few--just a few--Chinese and
Japanese--medical students, you know. Now, some time ago--a couple of
years ago--some of them asked us if we couldn't let them have three or
four rooms at the top of the house in which to start a sort of little
club of their own, so that they could have a place for their meetings,
you understand. They were all quiet, very respectable young fellows--so
we did. They have the top floor of this house. They furnished and
fitted it up themselves. There's a separate entrance--at the side of
the shop. Each of them has a latch-key of his own. So they can go in
and out as they like--they never bother us. But, as a matter of fact,
there are only four or five of them who are members now--the others
have all left. That's the real truth--and I tell you I don't know if
Mr. Chang Li might be up there or not. We know nothing about what they
do in their rooms--they're only our tenants."
"Let me ask you one question," said the Inspector, "Have either of you
ever been in those rooms since you let them to these people!"
"No!" answered the elder man. "Neither of us--at anytime!"
"Then," commanded the Inspector, "I'll thank you to come up with us to
them--now!"
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHANG LI
Not without some grumbling as to waste of time and interference with
business, the Pilmansey brothers led the way to a side door which
opened into a passage that ran along the side of the shop and from
whence a staircase rose to the upper regions of the house. The elder
pointed, significantly, to the street door at the end.
"You'll take notice that these young fellows I told you of get to the
rooms we let them through that?" he observed. "That door's always
locked--they all have latch-keys to it. They never come through the
shop--we've nothing to do with them, and we don't know anything about
whatever they may do in their rooms--all we're concerned with is that
they pay their rent and behave themselves. And quiet enough they've
always been--we've had no reason to complain."
"And, as they all have latch-keys, I suppose they can get into the
place at any hour of the day--or night?" suggested the Inspector.
"There's no bar against them coming here at night?"
"They can come in--and go out--whenever they please," answered the
elder man. "I tell you we've nothing to do with them--except as their
landlords."
"Where do you live--yourselves?" asked the Inspector. "On these
premises?"
"No, we don't," replied the younger brother, who, of the two, had
showed the keenest, if most silent, resentment at the police
proceedings. "We live--elsewhere. This establishment is opened at eight
in the morning, and closed at seven in the evening. We're never here
after seven--either of us."
"So that you never see anything of these foreigners at night-time?"
asked the Inspector. "Don't know what they do, I suppose?"
"We never see anything of 'em at any time," said the elder brother. "As
you see, this passage and staircase is outside the shop. We know
nothing whatever about them beyond what I've told you."
"Well--take us up, and we'll see what we can find out," commanded the
Inspector. "We're going to examine those rooms, Mr. Pilmansey, so we'll
get it done at once."
The intervening rooms between the lower and the top floors of the old
house appeared to be given up to stores--the open doors revealed casks,
cases, barrels, piles of biscuit and confectionery boxes--nothing to
conceal there, decided the lynx-eyed men who trooped up the dingy
stairs after the grumbling proprietors. But the door on the top floor
was closed--and when Ayscough turned its handle he found it to be
locked from within.
"They've keys of their own for that, too," remarked the younger
Pilmansey. "I don't see how you're going to get in, if there's nobody
inside."
"We're going in there whether there's anybody or not," said the
Inspector. "Knock, Ayscough!--knock loudly!"
The group of men gathered behind the leaders, and filling the whole of
the lobby outside the closed door, waited, expectant and excited, in
the silence which followed on Ayscough's loud beating on the upper
panel. A couple of minutes went by: the detective knocked again, more
insistently. And suddenly, and silently, the door was opened--first, an
inch or two, then a little wider, and as Ayscough slipped a stoutly
booted foot inside the crack a yellow face, lighted by a pair of
narrow-slitted dark eyes, looked out--and immediately vanished.
"In with you!" said the Inspector. "Careful, now!"
Ayscough pushed the door open and walked in, the rest crowding on his
heels. And Purdie, who was one of the foremost to enter, was
immediately cognizant of two distinct odours--one, the scent of
fragrant tea, the other of a certain heavy, narcotic something which
presently overpowered the fragrance of the tea and left an acid and
bitter taste.
"Opium," he whispered to Lauriston, who was close at his elbow. "Opium!
Smell it?"
But Lauriston was more eyes than nose just then. He, like the rest of
his companions, was staring at the scene on which they had entered. The
room was of a good size--evidently, from its sloping ceilings, part of
the attic story of the old house. The walls were hung with soft,
clinging, Oriental draperies and curtains; a few easy chairs of
wickerwork, a few small tables of like make, were disposed here and
there: there was an abundance of rugs and cushions: in one corner a
gas-stove was alight, and on it stood a kettle, singing merrily.
The young man who had opened the door had retreated towards this stove;
Purdie noticed that in one hand he held a small tea-pot. And in the
left-hand corner, bent over a little table, and absorbed in their game,
sat two other young men, correctly attired in English clothes, but
obviously Chinese from their eyebrows to their toes, playing chess.
The holder of the tea-pot cast a quick glance at the disturbance of
this peaceful scene, and set down his tea-pot; the chess-players looked
up for one second, showed not the faintest sign of perturbation--and
looked down again. Then the man of the tea-pot spoke--one word.
"Yes?" he said.
"The fact is, Mister," said the elder Pilmansey, "these are
police-officers. They want one of your friends--Mr. Chang Li."
The three occupants of the room appeared to pay no attention. The
chess-players went on playing; the other man reached for a canister,
and mechanically emptied tea out of it into his pot.
"Shut and lock that door, Ayscough," said the Inspector. "Let somebody
stand by it. Now," he continued, turning to the three Chinese, "is one
of you gentlemen Mr. Chang Li?"
"No!" replied one of the chess-players. "Not one of us!"
"Is he here?" demanded the Inspector. Then seeing that he was to be met
by Oriental impassivity, he turned to the Pilmanseys. "What other rooms
are there here?" he asked.
"Two," answered the elder brother, pointing to the curtains at the rear
of the room. "One there--the other there. Behind those hangings--two
smaller rooms."
The Inspector strode forward and tore the curtains aside. He flung open
the first of the doors--and started back, catching his breath.
"Phew!" he said.
The heavy, narcotic odour which Purdie had noticed at once on entering
the rooms came afresh, out of the newly-opened door, in a thick wave.
And as the rest of them crowded after the Inspector, they saw why. This
was a small room, hung like the first one with curiously-figured
curtains, and lighted only by a sky-light, over which a square of blue
stuff had been draped. In the subdued life they saw that there was
nothing in that room but a lounge well fitted with soft cushions and
pillows--and on it, his spare figure wrapped in a loose gown, lay a
young Chinaman, who, as the foremost advanced upon him, blinked in
their wondering faces out of eyes the pupils of which were still
contracted. Near him lay an opium pipe--close by, on a tiny stand, the
materials for more consumption of the drug.
The man who had accompanied the Inspector in his entrance to the
tea-shop strode forward and seized the recumbent figure by the
shoulder, shaking him gently.
"Now then!" he said, sharply, "wake up, my man! Are you Chang Li?"
The glazed eyes lifted themselves a little wonderingly; the dry lips
moved.
"Yes," he muttered. "Chang Li--yes. You want me?"
"How long have you been here?" demanded the questioner.
"How long--yes? Oh--I don't know. What do you want?" asked Chang Li. "I
don't know you."
The tea-maker thrust his head inside the room.
"He can't tell you anything," he said, with a grin. "He has been--what
you call on the break-out--with opium--ever so many days. He
has--attacks that way. Takes a fit of it--just as some of your people
take to the drink. He's coming out of it, now--and he'll be very, very
unhappy tomorrow."
The Inspector twisted round on the informant.
"Look here!" he said. "Do you know how long he's been here--stupifying
himself? Is it a day--or days?"
One of the chess-players lifted a stolid face.
"He has been here--like that--several days," he said. "It's useless
trying to do anything with him when he takes the fit--the craving, you
understand?--into his head. If you want any information out of him,
you'd better call again in a few hours."
"Do you mean to tell me he's been here--like that--several days?"
demanded the Inspector.
The young man with the tea-pot grinned again.
"He's never been at a class at the medical school since the 17th," he
announced. "I know that--he's in some classes with me. He's been
here--all the time since then."
The Inspector turned sharply on Ayscough.
"The 17th!" he exclaimed. "And that affair was on the 18th! Then--"
Chang Li was fumbling in a pocket of his gown. He found something
there, raised a hand to his lips, swallowed something. And in a few
seconds, as his eyes grew brighter, he turned a suspicious and sullen
glance on the group which stood watching him.
"What do you want?" he growled. "Who are you?"
"We want some information from you," said the Inspector. "When did you
last see your brother, or friend, or whatever he is--Chen Li?"
Chang Li shook his head--it was obvious that he had no clear
recollection.
"Don't know," he answered. "Perhaps just now--perhaps tomorrow--perhaps
not for a long time."
"When were you last at home--in Maida Vale?" asked the Inspector.
But Chang Li gave no answer to that beyond a frown, and it was evident
that as his wits cleared his temper was becoming ugly. He began to look
round with more intelligence, scanning one face after another with
growing dislike, and presently he muttered certain observations to
himself which, though not in English, sounded anything but
complimentary to those who watched him. And Ayscough suddenly turned to
the superior officials.
"If this man's been here ever since the 17th," he said, "he can't have
had anything to do with the affairs in Praed Street and Maida Vale!
Supposing, now--I'm only supposing--that young Jap's been lying all the
time?" He turned again--this time on the two chess-players, who had now
interrupted their game and were leaning back in their chairs, evidently
amused at the baffled faces of the searchers. "Here!" he said, "do you
know one Yada--Mori Yada--a Japanese? Is he one of you?"
"Oh, yes!" answered one of the chess-players. "Yada,--yes! We know
him--a very smart fellow, Yada. You know him--too?"
But before Ayscough could reply to this somewhat vexatious question, a
man who had been left in the tearooms came hurrying up the staircase
and burst in upon them. He made straight for the Inspector.
"Man from the office, sir, outside in a taxi!" he exclaimed
breathlessly. "You're on the wrong track--you're to get to Multenius's
shop in Praed Street at once. The real man's there!"
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
THE JEW AND THE JAP
When Melky Rubinstein slipped quietly out of the police-station, he
crossed the street, and taking up a position just within a narrow alley
on the other side, set himself to watch the door which he had just
quitted. There was a deep design in his mind, and he meant to carry it
out--alone.
Mr. Mori Yada, apparently as cool and unconcerned as ever, presently
tripped down the steps of the police-station and went leisurely off,
swinging his neatly rolled umbrella. As long as he was within sight of
the police-station windows he kept up the same gentle pace--but as soon
as he had turned the first corner his steps were quickened, and he made
for a spot to which Melky had expected him to make--a cab-rank, on
which two or three taxi-cabs were drawn up. He had reached the first,
and was addressing the driver, when Melky, who had kept a few yards in
the rear, stole gently up to his side and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Mister!" said Melky. "A word--in private!"
Yada turned on his interrupter with the swiftness of a snake, and for a
second his white teeth showed themselves in an unmistakable snarl, and
a savage gleam came into his dark eyes. Both snarl and gleam passed as
quickly as they had come, and the next instant he was smiling--as
blandly as ever.
"Oh, yes!" he said. "It is you--how do you do? Perhaps you are going my
way--I can give you a lift--Yes?"
Melky drew his man away a yard or two, and lowered his voice to a
whisper.
"Mister!" he said, with a note of deep confidence which made Yada look
at him with a sudden sense of fear. "Mister!--I wouldn't go no way at
all if I was you--just now. You're in danger, mister--you shoved your
head into the lions' den when you walked in where I've just seen you!
Deep, deep is them fellows, mister!--they're having you on toast. I
know where you're thinking of going, mister, in that cab. Don't
go--take my tip!"
"How do you know where I'm going?" demanded Yada.
"I was looking over Levendale's shoulder when he wrote that bit of a
cheque, mister," answered Melky, in his quietest accents. "You're off
to his bank to turn it into cash. And--if you walk into that
bank--well, you'll never walk out again, alone! Mister!--they're going
to collar you there--there's a trap laid for you!"
Melky was watching Yada's face out of his own eye-corners, and he saw
the olive-tinted skin pale a little, and the crafty eyes contract. And
on the instant he pursued his tactics and his advantage. He had
purposely steered the Japanese into a more crowded part of the street,
and now he edged him into a bye-alley which led to a rookery of narrow
bye-streets beyond. He felt that Yada was yielding--oppressed by a fear
of the unknown. But suddenly Yada paused--drawing back from the hand
which Melky had kept on his arm.
"What are you after?" he demanded. "What is your game, eh? You think to
alarm me!--what do you want?"
"Nothing unreasonable, mister," answered Melky. "You'll easily satisfy
me. Game? Come, now, mister--I know your game! Bank first--to get some
ready--then somewhere to pick up a bit of luggage--then, a railway
station. That's it, ain't it, now? No blooming good, mister--they're
ready for you the minute you walk into that bank! If they don't take
you then, they'll only wait to follow you to the station. Mister!--you
ain't a cat's chance!--you're done--if you don't make it worth my while
to help you! See?"
Yada looked round, doubtfully. They had turned two or three corners by
that time, and were in a main street, which lay at the back of Praed
Street. He glanced at Melky's face--which suggested just then nothing
but cunning and stratagem.
"What can you do for me?" he asked. "How much do you want? You want
money, eh?"
"Make it a hundred quid, mister," said Melky. "Just a hundred of the
best, and I'll put you where all the police in London won't find you
for the rest of today, and get you out of it at night in such a fashion
that you'll be as safe as if you was at home. You won't never see your
home in Japan, again, mister, if you don't depend on yours truly! And a
hundred ain't nothing--considering what you've got at stake."
"I haven't a hundred pounds to give you," answered Yada. "I have
scarcely any money but this cheque."
"In course you ain't, mister!" agreed Melky. "I twigged your game
straight off--you only came there to the police-station to put yourself
in funds for your journey! But that's all right!--you come along of me,
and let me put you in safety--then you give me that cheque--I'll get it
cashed in ten minutes without going to any banks--see? Friend o' mine
hereabouts--he'll cash it at his bank close by--anybody'll cash a
cheque o' Levendale's. Come on, now, mister. We're close to that little
port o' refuge I'm telling you about."
The bluff was going down--Melky felt, as much as saw, that Yada was
swallowing it in buckets. And he slipped his hand within his
companion's arm, piloted him along the street, across Praed Street,
round the back of the houses into the narrow passage which communicated
with the rear of the late Daniel Multenius's premises, and in at the
little door which opened on the parlour wherein so many events had
recently taken place.
"Where are you taking me?" asked Yada, suspiciously, as they crossed
the threshold.
"All serene, mister!" answered Melky, reassuringly. "Friend o' mine
here--my cousin. All right--and all secure. You're as safe here as you
will be in your grave, mister--s'elp me, you are! Zillah!"
Zillah walked into the parlour and justified Melky's supreme confidence
in her by showing no surprise or embarrassment. She gave Yada the
merest glance, and turned to Melky.
"Bit o' business with this young gentleman, Zillah," said Melky. "That
little room, upstairs, now--what?" "Oh, all right!" said Zillah,
indifferently. "You know your way--you'll be quiet enough there."
Melky signed to Yada to follow him, and led the way up the stairs to
the very top of the house. He conducted the Japanese into the small
room in which were some ancient moth-and-worm-eaten bits of furniture,
an old chest or two, and a plenitude of dust--and carefully closed the
door when he and his captive had got inside.
"Now, mister!" he said, "you're as safe here as you could be in any
spot in the wide world. Let's get to business--and let's understand
each other. You want that cheque turned into cash--you want to get out
of London tonight? All right--then hand over your cheque and keep quiet
till I come back. Is there anything else now--any bit of luggage you
want?"
"You do all this if I pay you one hundred pounds?" asked Yada.
"That'll do me, mister," answered Melky. "I'm a poor fellow, d'ye
see?--I don't pick up a hundred quid every day, I assure you! So if
there is anything--"
"A suit-case--at the luggage office at Oxford Circus Tube," said Yada.
"I must have it--papers, you understand. If you will get me that--"
"Give me the ticket--and that cheque," said Melky. He slipped the two
bits of paper into his pocket, and made for the door. "I'll turn the
key outside," he said. "You'll be safer. Make yourself comfortable,
mister--I'll be back in an hour with the money and the goods."
Two minutes later Melky confronted Zillah in the parlour and grinned at
her. Zillah regarded him suspiciously.
"What's this, Melky?" she demanded. "What're you up to?"
"Zillah!" said Melky, "you'll be proud of your cousin, Melky
Rubinstein, before ever it's dinner-time--you will do, Zillah! And in
the meantime, keep your counsel, Zillah, while he fetches a nice large
policeman."
"Is that Japanese locked in that little room?" asked Zillah.
Melky tapped the side of his nose, and without a word looked out into
the street. A policeman, large enough for all practical purposes, was
lounging along the side-walk; another, equally bulky, was looking into
a shop-window twenty yards away across the street. Within a couple of
minutes Melky had both in the back-parlour and was giving them and
Zillah a swift but particular account of his schemes.
"You're sure you're right, Melky?" asked Zillah. "You're not making any
mistake?"
"Mistake!" exclaimed Melky, satirically. "You'll see about that in a
minute! Now," he added, turning to the policemen, "you come quietly
up--and do exactly what I've told you. We'll soon know about mistakes,
Zillah!"
Yada, left to himself, had spent his time in gazing out of the dirty
window of his prison. There was not much of a prospect. The window
commanded the various backyards of that quarter. As if to consider any
possible chance of escape, he looked out. There was a projection
beneath him, a convenient water-pipe--he might make a perilous descent,
if need arose. But, somehow, he believed in that little Jew: he
believed, much more, in the little Jew's greed for a hundred pounds of
ready money. The little Jew with the cunning smile had seen his chance
of making a quiet penny, and had taken it--it was all right, said Yada,
all right. And yet, there was one horrible thought--supposing, now that
Melky had got the cheque, that he cashed it and made off with all the
money, never to return?