CHAPTER V
"Shen-Yan's is a dope-shop in one of the burrows off the old RatcliffHighway," said Inspector Weymouth.
"'Singapore Charlie's,' they call it. It's a center for some of theChinese societies, I believe, but all sorts of opium-smokers use it.There have never been any complaints that I know of. I don'tunderstand this."
We stood in his room at New Scotland Yard, bending over a sheet offoolscap upon which were arranged some burned fragments from poorCadby's grate, for so hurriedly had the girl done her work thatcombustion had not been complete.
"What do we make of this?" said Smith. "'. . . Hunchback . . . lascarwent up . . . unlike others . . . not return . . . till Shen-Yan'(there is no doubt about the name, I think) 'turned me out . . . boomingsound . . . lascar in . . . mortuary I could ident . . . not for days,or suspici . . . Tuesday night in a different make . . . snatch. . . pigtail . . .'"
"The pigtail again!" rapped Weymouth.
"She evidently burned the torn-out pages all together," continuedSmith. "They lay flat, and this was in the middle. I see the hand ofretributive justice in that, Inspector. Now we have a reference to ahunchback, and what follows amounts to this: A lascar (amongst severalother persons) went up somewhere--presumably upstairs--at Shen-Yan's,and did not come down again. Cadby, who was there disguised, noted abooming sound. Later, he identified the lascar in some mortuary. Wehave no means of fixing the date of this visit to Shen-Yan's, but Ifeel inclined to put down the 'lascar' as the dacoit who was murderedby Fu-Manchu! It is sheer supposition, however. But that Cadby meantto pay another visit to the place in a different 'make-up' or disguise,is evident, and that the Tuesday night proposed was last night is areasonable deduction. The reference to a pigtail is principallyinteresting because of what was found on Cadby's body."
Inspector Weymouth nodded affirmatively, and Smith glanced at his watch.
"Exactly ten-twenty-three," he said. "I will trouble you, Inspector,for the freedom of your fancy wardrobe. There is time to spend an hourin the company of Shen-Yan's opium friends."
Weymouth raised his eyebrows.
"It might be risky. What about an official visit?"
Nayland Smith laughed.
"Worse than useless! By your own showing, the place is open toinspection. No; guile against guile! We are dealing with a Chinaman,with the incarnate essence of Eastern subtlety, with the moststupendous genius that the modern Orient has produced."
"I don't believe in disguises," said Weymouth, with a certaintruculence. "It's mostly played out, that game, and generally leads tofailure. Still, if you're determined, sir, there's an end of it.Foster will make your face up. What disguise do you propose to adopt?"
"A sort of Dago seaman, I think; something like poor Cadby. I can relyon my knowledge of the brutes, if I am sure of my disguise."
"You are forgetting me, Smith," I said.
He turned to me quickly.
"Petrie," he replied, "it is MY business, unfortunately, but it is nosort of hobby."
"You mean that you can no longer rely upon me?" I said angrily.
Smith grasped my hand, and met my rather frigid stare with a look ofreal concern on his gaunt, bronzed face.
"My dear old chap," he answered, "that was really unkind. You knowthat I meant something totally different."
"It's all right, Smith;" I said, immediately ashamed of my choler, andwrung his hand heartily. "I can pretend to smoke opium as well asanother. I shall be going, too, Inspector."
As a result of this little passage of words, some twenty minutes latertwo dangerous-looking seafaring ruffians entered a waiting cab,accompanied by Inspector Weymouth, and were driven off into thewilderness of London's night. In this theatrical business there was,to my mind, something ridiculous--almost childish--and I could havelaughed heartily had it not been that grim tragedy lurked so near tofarce.
The mere recollection that somewhere at our journey's end Fu-Manchuawaited us was sufficient to sober my reflections--Fu-Manchu, who, withall the powers represented by Nayland Smith pitted against him, pursuedhis dark schemes triumphantly, and lurked in hiding within this veryarea which was so sedulously patrolled--Fu-Manchu, whom I had neverseen, but whose name stood for horrors indefinable! Perhaps I wasdestined to meet the terrible Chinese doctor to-night.
I ceased to pursue a train of thought which promised to lead to morbiddepths, and directed my attention to what Smith was saying.
"We will drop down from Wapping and reconnoiter, as you say the placeis close to the riverside. Then you can put us ashore somewhere below.Ryman can keep the launch close to the back of the premises, and yourfellows will be hanging about near the front, near enough to hear thewhistle."
"Yes," assented Weymouth; "I've arranged for that. If you aresuspected, you shall give the alarm?"
"I don't know," said Smith thoughtfully. "Even in that event I mightwait awhile."
"Don't wait too long," advised the Inspector. "We shouldn't be muchwiser if your next appearance was on the end of a grapnel, somewheredown Greenwich Reach, with half your fingers missing."
The cab pulled up outside the river police depot, and Smith and Ientered without delay, four shabby-looking fellows who had been seatedin the office springing up to salute the Inspector, who followed us in.
"Guthrie and Lisle," he said briskly, "get along and find a dark cornerwhich commands the door of Singapore Charlie's off the old Highway.You look the dirtiest of the troupe, Guthrie; you might drop asleep onthe pavement, and Lisle can argue with you about getting home. Don'tmove till you hear the whistle inside or have my orders, and noteeverybody that goes in and comes out. You other two belong to thisdivision?"
The C.I.D. men having departed, the remaining pair saluted again.
"Well, you're on special duty to-night. You've been prompt, but don'tstick your chests out so much. Do you know of a back way toShen-Yan's?"
The men looked at one another, and both shook their heads.
"There's an empty shop nearly opposite, sir," replied one of them. "Iknow a broken window at the back where we could climb in. Then wecould get through to the front and watch from there."
"Good!" cried the Inspector. "See you are not spotted, though; and ifyou hear the whistle, don't mind doing a bit of damage, but be insideShen-Yan's like lightning. Otherwise, wait for orders."
Inspector Ryman came in, glancing at the clock.
"Launch is waiting," he said.
"Right," replied Smith thoughtfully. "I am half afraid, though, thatthe recent alarms may have scared our quarry--your man, Mason, and thenCadby. Against which we have that, so far as he is likely to know,there has been no clew pointing to this opium den. Remember, he thinksCadby's notes are destroyed."
"The whole business is an utter mystery to me," confessed Ryman. "I'mtold that there's some dangerous Chinese devil hiding somewhere inLondon, and that you expect to find him at Shen-Yan's. Supposing heuses that place, which is possible, how do you know he's thereto-night?"
"I don't," said Smith; "but it is the first clew we have had pointingto one of his haunts, and time means precious lives where Dr. Fu-Manchuis concerned."
"Who is he, sir, exactly, this Dr. Fu-Manchu?"
"I have only the vaguest idea, Inspector; but he is no ordinarycriminal. He is the greatest genius which the powers of evil have puton earth for centuries. He has the backing of a political group whosewealth is enormous, and his mission in Europe is to PAVE THE WAY! Doyou follow me? He is the advance-agent of a movement so epoch-makingthat not one Britisher, and not one American, in fifty thousand hasever dreamed of it."
Ryman stared, but made no reply, and we went out, passing down to thebreakwater and boarding the waiting launch. With her crew of three,the party numbered seven that swung out into the Pool, and, clearingthe pier, drew in again and hugged the murky shore.
The night had been clear enough hitherto, but now came scuddingrainbanks to curtain the crescent moon, and anon to unvei
l her againand show the muddy swirls about us. The view was not extensive fromthe launch. Sometimes a deepening of the near shadows would tell of amoored barge, or lights high above our heads mark the deck of a largevessel. In the floods of moonlight gaunt shapes towered above; in theensuing darkness only the oily glitter of the tide occupied theforeground of the night-piece.
The Surrey shore was a broken wall of blackness, patched with lightsabout which moved hazy suggestions of human activity. The bank we werefollowing offered a prospect even more gloomy--a dense, dark mass, amidwhich, sometimes, mysterious half-tones told of a dock gate, or suddenhigh lights leapt flaring to the eye.
Then, out of the mystery ahead, a green light grew and crept down uponus. A giant shape loomed up, and frowned crushingly upon the littlecraft. A blaze of light, the jangle of a bell, and it was past. Wewere dancing in the wash of one of the Scotch steamers, and the murkhad fallen again.
Discords of remote activity rose above the more intimate throbbing ofour screw, and we seemed a pigmy company floating past the workshops ofBrobdingnagian toilers. The chill of the near water communicateditself to me, and I felt the protection of my shabby garmentsinadequate against it.
Far over on the Surrey shore a blue light--vaporous,mysterious--flicked translucent tongues against the night's curtain.It was a weird, elusive flame, leaping, wavering, magically changingfrom blue to a yellowed violet, rising, falling.
"Only a gasworks," came Smith's voice, and I knew that he, too, hadbeen watching those elfin fires. "But it always reminds me of aMexican teocalli, and the altar of sacrifice."
The simile was apt, but gruesome. I thought of Dr. Fu-Manchu and thesevered fingers, and could not repress a shudder.
"On your left, past the wooden pier! Not where the lamp is--beyondthat; next to the dark, square building--Shen-Yan's."
It was Inspector Ryman speaking.
"Drop us somewhere handy, then," replied Smith, "and lie close in, withyour ears wide open. We may have to run for it, so don't go far away."
From the tone of his voice I knew that the night mystery of the Thameshad claimed at least one other victim.
"Dead slow," came Ryman's order. "We'll put in to the Stone Stairs."