"You have the look of a mule when it puts its ears back and kicks.
Well, I have delivered my warning. Remember this, the third warning
will come by the hand of the Destroyer--"
She made a sign, and the car whirled away rapidly. I noted the number
mechanically, but without the hope that it would lead to anything. The
Big Four were not apt to be careless in details.
I went home a little sobered. One fact had emerged from the countess's
flood of volubility. I was in real danger of my life. Though I had no
intention of abandoning the struggle, I saw that it behoved me to walk
warily and adopt every possible precaution.
Whilst I was reviewing all these facts and seeking for the best line of
action, the telephone bell rang. I crossed the room and picked up the
receiver.
"Yes. Hallo. Who's speaking?"
A crisp voice answered me.
"This is St. Giles' Hospital. We have a Chinaman here, knifed in the
street and brought in. He can't last long. We rang you up because we
found in his pocket a piece of paper with your name and address on it."
I was very much astonished. Nevertheless, after a moment's reflection I
said that I would come down at once. St. Giles' Hospital was, I knew,
down by the docks, and it occurred to me that the Chinaman might have
just come off some ship.
It was on my way down there that a sudden suspicion shot into my mind.
Was the whole thing a trap? Wherever a Chinaman was, there might be the
hand of Li Chang Yen. I remembered the adventure of the Baited Trap.
Was the whole thing a ruse on the part of my enemies?
A little reflection convinced me that at any rate a visit to the
hospital would do no harm. It was probable that the thing was not so
much a plot as what is vulgarly known as a "plant." The dying Chinaman
would make some revelation to me upon which I should act, and which
would have the result of leading me into the hands of the Big Four. The
thing to do was to preserve an open mind, and whilst feigning credulity
be secretly on my guard.
On arriving at St. Giles' Hospital, and making my business known, I
was taken at once to the accident ward, to the bedside of the man in
question. He lay absolutely still, his eyelids closed, and only a very
faint movement of the chest showed that he still breathed. A doctor
stood by the bed, his fingers on the Chinaman's pulse.
"He's almost gone," he whispered to me. "You know him, eh?"