CHAPTER VII
CHINATOWN
"It's no easy matter," said Inspector Weymouth, "to patrol the vicinityof John Ki's Joy-Shop without their getting wind of it. The entrance,as you'll see, is a long, narrow rat-hole of a street running at rightangles to the Thames. There's no point, so far as I know, from whichthe yard can be overlooked; and the back is on a narrow cuttingbelonging to a disused mill."
I paid little attention to his words. Disguised beyond all chance ofrecognition even by one intimate with my appearance, I was allimpatience to set out. I had taken Smith's place in the night'sprogram; for, every possible source of information having been tappedin vain, I now hoped against hope that some clue to the fate of my poorfriend might be obtained at the Chinese den which he had designed tovisit with Fletcher.
The latter, who presented a strange picture in his make-up as a sortof half-caste sailor, stared doubtfully at the Inspector; then--
"The River Police cutter," he said, "can drop down on the tide and lieoff under the Surrey bank. There's a vacant wharf facing the end ofthe street and we can slip through and show a light there, to let youknow we've arrived. You reply in the same way. If there's anytrouble, I shall blaze away with this"--he showed the butt of aService revolver protruding from his hip pocket--"and you can beashore in no time."
The plan had one thing to commend it, viz., that no one could deviseanother. Therefore it was adopted, and five minutes later a taxi-cabswung out of the Yard containing Inspector Weymouth and two ruffianlylooking companions--myself and Fletcher.
Any zest with which, at another time, I might have entered upon suchan expedition, was absent now. I bore with me a gnawing anxiety andsorrow that precluded all conversation on my part, save monosyllabicreplies, to questions that I comprehended but vaguely.
At the River Police Depot we found Inspector Ryman, an old acquaintance,awaiting us. Weymouth had telephoned from Scotland Yard.
"I've got a motor-boat at the breakwater," said Ryman, nodding toFletcher, and staring hard at me.
Weymouth laughed shortly.
"Evidently you don't recognize Dr. Petrie!" he said.
"Eh!" cried Ryman--"Dr. Petrie! why, good heavens, Doctor, I shouldnever have known you in a month of Bank holidays! What's afoot,then?"--and he turned to Weymouth, eyebrows raised interrogatively.
"It's the Fu-Manchu business again, Ryman."
"Fu-Manchu! But I thought the Fu-Manchu case was off the books longago? It was always a mystery to me; never a word in the papers; andwe as much in the dark as everybody else--but didn't I hear that theChinaman, Fu-Manchu, was dead?"
Weymouth nodded.
"Some of his friends seem to be very much alive, though" he said."It appears that Fu-Manchu, for all his genius--and there's no denyinghe was a genius, Ryman--was only the agent of somebody altogetherbigger."
Ryman whistled softly.
"Has the real head of affairs arrived, then?"
"We find we are up against what is known as the Si-Fan."
At that it came to the inevitable, unanswerable question.
"What is the Si-Fan?"
I laughed, but my laughter was not mirthful. Inspector Weymouth shookhis head.
"Perhaps Mr. Nayland Smith could tell you that," he replied; "for theSi-Fan got him to-day!"
"Got him!" cried Ryman.
"Absolutely! He's vanished! And Fletcher here has found out that JohnKi's place is in some way connected with this business."
I interrupted--impatiently, I fear.
"Then let us set out, Inspector," I said, "for it seems to me that weare wasting precious time--and you know what that may mean." I turnedto Fletcher. "Where is this place situated, exactly? How do we proceed?"
"The cab can take us part of the way," he replied, "and we shall haveto walk the rest. Patrons of John's don't turn up in taxis, as a rule!"
"Then let us be off," I said, and made for the door.
"Don't forget the signal!" Weymouth cried after me, "and don't ventureinto the place until you've received our reply...."
But I was already outside, Fletcher following; and a moment later wewere both in the cab and off into a maze of tortuous streets towardJohn Ki's Joy-Shop.
With the coming of nightfall the rain had ceased, but the sky remainedheavily overcast and the air was filled with clammy mist. It was anight to arouse longings for Southern skies; and when, dischargingthe cabman, we set out afoot along a muddy and ill-lightedthoroughfare bordered on either side by high brick walls, theirmonotony occasionally broken by gateways, I felt that the load ofdepression which had settled upon my shoulders must ere long bear medown.
Sounds of shunting upon some railway siding came to my ears; trainwhistles and fog signals hooted and boomed. River sounds there were,too, for we were close beside the Thames, that gray old stream whichhas borne upon its bier many a poor victim of underground London. Thesky glowed sullenly red above.
"There's the Joy-Shop, along on the left," said Fletcher, breaking inupon my reflections. "You'll notice a faint light; it's shining outthrough the open door. Then, here is the wharf."
He began fumbling with the fastenings of a dilapidated gateway besidewhich we were standing; and a moment later--
"All right--slip through," he said.
I followed him through the narrow gap which the ruinous state of thegates had enabled him to force, and found myself looking under a lowarch, with the Thames beyond, and a few hazy lights coming and goingon the opposite bank.
"Go steady!" warned Fletcher. "It's only a few paces to the edge ofthe wharf."
I heard him taking a box of matches from his pocket.
"Here is my electric lamp," I said. "It will serve the purpose better."
"Good," muttered my companion. "Show a light down here, so that wecan find our way."
With the aid of the lamp we found our way out on to the rottingtimbers of the crazy structure. The mist hung denser over the river,but through it, as through a dirty gauze curtain, it was possibleto discern some of the greater lights on the opposite shore. These,without exception, however, showed high up upon the fog curtain;along the water level lay a belt of darkness.
"Let me give them the signal," said Fletcher, shivering slightly andtaking the lamp from my hand.
He flashed the light two or three times. Then we both stood watchingthe belt of darkness that followed the Surrey shore. The tide lappedupon the timbers supporting the wharf and little whispers and gurglingsounds stole up from beneath our feet. Once there was a faint splashfrom somewhere below and behind us.
"There goes a rat," said Fletcher vaguely, and without taking his gazefrom the darkness under the distant shore. "It's gone into the cuttingat the back of John Ki's."
He ceased speaking and flashed the lamp again several times. Then, allat once out of the murky darkness into which we were peering, lookeda little eye of light--once, twice, thrice it winked at us from lowdown upon the oily water; then was gone.
"It's Weymouth with the cutter," said Fletcher; "they are ready ...now for Jon Ki's."
We stumbled back up the slight acclivity beneath the archway to thestreet, leaving the ruinous gates as we had found them. Into theuninviting little alley immediately opposite we plunged, and wherethe faint yellow luminance showed upon the muddy path before us,Fletcher paused a moment, whispering to me warningly.
"Don't speak if you can help it," he said; "if you do, mumble any oldjargon in any language you like, and throw in plenty of cursing!"
He grasped me by the arm, and I found myself crossing the threshold ofthe Joy-Shop--I found myself in a meanly furnished room no more thantwelve feet square and very low ceiled, smelling strongly of paraffinoil. The few items of furniture which it contained were but dimlydiscernible in the light of a common tin lamp which stood upon apacking-case at the head of what looked like cellar steps.
Abruptly, I pulled up; for this stuffy little den did not correspondwith pre-conceived ideas of the place for which we were bound. I wasabout to speak
when Fletcher nipped my arm--and out from the shadowsbehind the packing-case a little bent figure arose!
I started violently, for I had had no idea that another was in theroom. The apparition proved to be a Chinaman, and judging from what Icould see of him, a very old Chinaman, his bent figure attired in ablue smock. His eyes were almost invisible amidst an intricate map ofwrinkles which covered his yellow face.
"Evening, John," said Fletcher--and, pulling me with him, he made forthe head of the steps.
As I came abreast of the packing-case, the Chinaman lifted the lampand directed its light fully upon my face.
Great as was the faith which I reposed in my make-up, a doubt and atremor disturbed me now, as I found myself thus scrutinized by thosecunning old eyes looking out from the mask-like, apish face. For thefirst time the Chinaman spoke.
"You blinger fliend, Charlie?" he squeaked in a thin, piping voice.
"Him play piecee card," replied Fletcher briefly. "Good fellow, plentymuch money."
He descended the steps, still holding my arm, and I perforce followedhim. Apparently John's scrutiny and Fletcher's explanation respectingme, together had proved satisfactory; for the lamp was replaced uponthe lid of the packing-case, and the little bent figure dropped downagain into the shadows from which it had emerged.
"Allee lightee," I heard faintly as I stumbled downward in the wakeof Fletcher.
I had expected to find myself in a cellar, but instead discovered thatwe were in a small square court with the mist of the night about usagain. On a doorstep facing us stood a duplicate of the lamp upon thebox upstairs. Evidently this was designed to indicate the portals ofthe Joy-Shop, for Fletcher pushed open the door, whose thresholdaccommodated the lamp, and the light of the place beyond shone outinto our faces. We entered and my companion closed the door behind us.
Before me I perceived a long low room lighted by flaming gas-burners,the jets hissing and spluttering in the draught from the door, forthey were entirely innocent of shades or mantles. Wooden tables,their surfaces stained with the marks of countless wet glasses, wereranged about the place, cafe fashion; and many of these tablesaccommodated groups, of nondescript nationality for the most part.One or two there were in a distant corner who were unmistakablyChinamen; but my slight acquaintance with the races of the East didnot enable me to classify the greater number of those whom I now sawabout me. There were several unattractive-looking women present.
Fletcher walked up the center of the place, exchanging nods ofrecognition with two hang-dog poker-players, and I was pleased to notethat our advent had apparently failed to attract the slightestattention. Through an opening on the right-hand side of the room, nearthe top, I looked into a smaller apartment, occupied exclusively byChinese. They were playing some kind of roulette and another gamewhich seemed wholly to absorb their interest. I ventured no more thana glance, then passed on with my companion.
"_Fan-tan!_" he whispered in my ear.
Other forms of gambling were in progress at some of the tables; andnow Fletcher silently drew my attention to yet a third dimly lightedapartment--this opening out from the left-hand corner of theprincipal room. The atmosphere of the latter was sufficientlyabominable; indeed, the stench was appalling; but a wave of chokingvapor met me as I paused for a moment at the threshold of this innersanctuary. I formed but the vaguest impression of its interior; thesmell was sufficient. This annex was evidently reserved foropium-smokers.
Fletcher sat down at a small table near by, and I took a common woodenchair which he thrust forward with his foot. I was looking around atthe sordid scene, filled with a bitter sense of my own impotency toaid my missing friend, when that occurred which set my heart beatingwildly at once with hope and excitement. Fletcher must have seensomething of this in my attitude, for--
"Don't forget what I told you," he whispered. "Be cautious!--be verycautious!..."