CHAPTER II
THE RED CIRCLE
"You are not by any chance," suggested Stuart, smiling slightly,"hinting at that defunct bogey, the 'Yellow Peril'?"
"Ah!" cried Max, "but certainly I am not! Do not misunderstand me.This group with which we are dealing is shown to be not of a nationalbut of an international character. The same applied to the organisationof 'Mr. King.' But a Chinaman directed the one, and I begin to suspectthat a Chinaman directs the other. No, I speak of no ridiculous'Yellow Peril,' my friends. John Chinaman, as I have known him, is thewhitest man breathing; but can you not imagine"--he dropped his voiceagain in that impressive way which was yet so truly Gallic--"can younot imagine a kind of Oriental society which like a great, aformidable serpent, lies hidden somewhere below that deceptive jungleof the East? These are troubled times. It is a wise state to-day thatknows its own leaders. Can you not imagine a dreadful sudden menace,not of men and guns but of _brains_ and _capital_?"
"You mean," said Dunbar slowly, "that 'The Scorpion' may be gettingpeople out of the way who might interfere with this rising or invasionor whatever it is?"
"Just as 'Mr. King' accumulated material for it," interjected theAssistant Commissioner. "It is a bold conception, M. Max, and itraises the case out of the ordinary category and invests it withenormous international importance."
All were silent for a time, Stuart, Dunbar and the Commissionerwatching the famous Frenchman as he sat there, arrayed in the latestfashion of Saville Row, yet Gallic to his finger-tips and in everygesture. It was almost impossible at times to credit the fact that aParisian was speaking, for the English of Gaston Max was flawlessexcept that he spoke with a faint American accent. Then, suddenly, agesture, an expletive, would betray the Frenchman.
But such betrayals never escaped him when, in one of his inimitabledisguises, he penetrated to the purlieu of Whitechapel, to the dens ofLimehouse. Then he was the perfect Hooligan, as, mingling with thedangerous thieves of Paris, he was the perfect Apache. It was aninnate gift of mimicry which had made him the greatest investigatorof his day. He could have studied Chinese social life for six monthsand thereupon have become a mandarin whom his own servants would neverhave suspected to be a "foreign barbarian." It was pure genius, asopposed to the brilliant efficiency of Dunbar.
But in the heart of the latter, as he studied Gaston Max and realizedthe gulf that separated them, there was nothing but generousadmiration of a master; yet Dunbar was no novice, for by a process offine deductive reasoning he had come to the conclusion, as hasappeared, that Gaston Max had been masquerading as a cabman and thatthe sealed letter left with Dr. Stuart had been left as a lure. By oneof those tricks of fate which sometimes perfect the plans of men butmore often destroy them, the body of "Le Balafre" had been sodisfigured during the time that it had been buffeted about in theThames that it was utterly unrecognizable and indescribable. But eventhe disk had not deceived Dunbar. He had seen in it another ruse ofhis brilliant confrere, and his orders to the keeper of the mortuaryto admit no one without a written permit had been dictated by theconviction that Max wished the body to be mistaken for his own. InInspector Dunbar, Gaston Max immediately had recognized an ablecolleague as Mrs. M'Gregor had recognized "a grand figure of a man."
The Assistant Commissioner broke the silence.
"There have been other cases," he said reflectively, "now that oneconsiders the matter, which seemed to point to the existence of sucha group or society as you indicate, M. Max, notably one with which,if I remember rightly, Inspector"--turning his dark eyes towardsDunbar--"Inspector Weymouth, late of this Branch, was associated?"
"Quite right, sir. It was his big case, and it got him a fine billetas Superintendent in Cairo if you remember?"
"Yes," mused the Assistant Commissioner--"he transferred to Egypt--avery good appointment, as you say. That, again, was before my term ofoffice, but there were a number of very ghastly crimes connected withthe case and it was more or less definitely established, I believe,that some extensive secret society did actually exist throughout the East, governed, I fancy, by a Chinaman."
"And from China," added Dunbar.
"Yes, yes, from China as you say, Inspector." He turned to Gaston Max."Can it really be, M. Max, that we have to deal with an upcrop of somedeeply-seated evil which resides in the Far East? Are all these cases,not the work of individual criminal but manifestations of a moresinister, a darker force?"
Gaston Max met his glance and Max's mouth grew very grim.
"I honestly believe so." he answered. "I have believed it for nearlytwo years--ever since the Grand Duke died. And now, you said, Iremember, that you had made a note the nature of which you wouldcommunicate."
"Yes," replied the Assistant Commissioner--"a small point, but onewhich may be worthy of attention. This ray, Dr. Stuart, which playedsuch havoc in your study--do you know of anything approaching to it inmore recent scientific devices?"
"Well," said Stuart, "it my be no more than a development of one ofseveral systems, notably of that of the late Henrik Ericksen uponwhich he was at work at the time of his death."
"Exactly." The Assistant Commissioner smiled in his mostMephistophelean manner. "Of the late Henrik Ericksen, as you say."
He said no more for a moment and sat smoking and looking from face toface. Then:
"That is the subject of my note, gentlemen," he added. "The other_minutiae_ are of no immediate importance."
"_Non d'un p'tit bonhomme!_" whispered Gaston Max. "I see! You thinkthat Ericksen had completed his experiments before he died, but thathe never lived to give them to the world?"
The Assistant Commissioner waved one hand in the air so that hediscoloration of the first and second fingers was very noticeable.
"It is for you to ascertain these points, M. Max," he said--"I onlysuggest. But I begin to share your belief that a series of daring andunusual assassinations has been taking place under the eyes of thepolice authorities of Europe. It can only be poison--an unknown poison,perhaps. We shall be empowered to exhume the body of the late SirFrank Narcombe in a few days' time, I hope. His case puzzles mehopelessly. What obstacle did a surgeon offer to this hypotheticalEastern movement? On the other hand, what can have been filched fromhim before his death? The death of an inventor, a statesman, a soldier,can be variously explained by your 'Yellow' hypothesis, M. Max, butwhat of the death of a surgeon?"
Gaston Max shrugged, and his mobile mouth softened in a quaint smile.
"We have learned a little," he said, "and guessed a lot. Let us hopeto guess more--and learn everything!"
"May I suggest," added Dunbar, "that we hear Sowerby's report, sir?"
"Certainly," agreed the Assistant Commissioner--"call SergeantSowerby."
A moment later Sergeant Sowerby entered, his face very red and hishair bristling more persistently than usual.
"Anything to report, Sowerby?" asked Dunbar.
"Yes, Inspector," replied Sowerby, in his Police Court manner;--hefaced the Assistant Commissioner, "with your permission, sir."
He took out a note-book which appeared to be the twin of Dunbar's andconsulted it, assuming an expression of profound reflection.
"In the first place, sir," he began, never raising his eyes from thepage, "I have traced the cab sold on the hire-purchase system to acertain Charles _Mallett..._"
"Ha, ha!" laughed Max breezily--"he calls me a hammer! It is notMallett, Sergeant Sowerby--you have got too many _l's_ in that name;it is Malet and is called like one from the Malay States!"
"Oh," commented Sowerby, glancing up--"indeed. Very good, sir. Theowner claims the balance of purchase money!"
Every one laughed at that, even the satanic Assistant Commissioner.
"Pay your debts, M. Max," he said. "You will bring the Service deSurete into bad repute! Carry on, Sergeant."
"This cab," continued Sowerby, when Dunbar interrupted him.
"Cut out the part about the cab, Sowerby," he said. "We've found thatout from M. Max. Have you any
thing to report about the yellow car?"
"Yes," replied Sowerby, unperturbed, and turning over to the nextpage. "It was hired form Messrs. Wickers' garage, at Canning Town, bythe week. The lady who hired it was a Miss Dorian, a French lady. Shegave no reference, except that of the Savoy Hotel, where she wasstopping. She paid a big deposit and had her own chauffeur, a coloredman of some kind.
"Is it still in use by her?" snapped Dunbar eagerly.
"No, Inspector. She claimed her deposit this morning and said she wasleaving London."
"The cheque?" cried Dunbar.
"Was cashed half an hour later."
"At what bank?"
"London County & Birmingham, Canning Town. Her own account at a Strandbank was closed yesterday. The details all concern milliners,jewellers, hotels and so forth. There's nothing there. I've been tothe Savoy, of course."
"Yes!"
"A lady named Dorian has had rooms there for six weeks, has dined thereon several occasions, but was more often away than in the hotel."
"Visitors?"
"Never had any."
"She used to dine alone, then?"
"Always."
"In the public dining-room?"
"No. In her own room."
"_Morbleu!_" muttered Max. "It is she beyond doubt. I recognize hersociable habits!"
"Has she left now?" asked Dunbar.
"She left a week ago."
Sowerby closed his note-book and returned it to his pocket.
"Is that all you have to report, Sergeant?" asked the AssistantCommissioner.
"That's all, sir."
"Very good."
Sergeant Sowerby retired.
"Now, sir," said Dunbar, "I've got Inspector Kelly here. He looksafter the Chinese quarter. Shall I call him?"
"Yes, Inspector."
Presently there entered a burly Irishman, bluff and good-humoured, avery typical example of the intelligent superior police officer,looking keenly around him.
"Ah, Inspector," the Assistant Commissioner greeted him--"we want yourassistance in a little matter concerning the Chinese residentialquarter. You know this district?"
"Certainly, sir. I know it very well."
"On this map"--the Assistant Commissioner laid a discolouredforefinger upon the map of London--"you will perceive that we havedrawn a circle."
Inspector Kelly bent over the table.
"Yes, sir."
"Within that circle, which is no larger in circumference that ashilling as you observe, lies a house used by a certain group ofpeople. It has been suggested to me that these people may be Chineseor associates of Chinese."
"Well, sir," said Inspector Kelly, smiling broadly, "considering thepatch inside the circle I think it more than likely! Seventy-five orit may be eighty per cent of the rooms and cellars and attics inthose three streets are occupied by Chinese."
"For your guidance, Inspector, we believe these people to be adangerous gang of international criminals. Do you know of anyparticular house, or houses, likely to be used as a meeting-place bysuch a gang?"
Inspector Kelly scratched his close-cropped head.
"A woman was murdered just there, sir," he said, taking up a pen fromthe table and touching a point near the corner of Three Colt Street,"about a twelve-month ago. We traced the man--a Chinese sailor--to ahouse lying just about here." Again he touched the map. "It's a sortof little junk-shop with a ramshackle house attached, all cellars andrabbit-hutches, as you might say, overhanging a disused cutting whichis filled at high tide. Opium is to be had there and card-playinggoes on, and I won't swear that you couldn't get liquor. But it'swell conducted as such dives go."
"Why is it not closed?" inquired the Assistant Commissioner, seizingan opportunity to air his departmental ignorance.
"Well, sir," replied Inspector Kelly, his eyes twinkling--"if we shutup all these places we should never know where to look for some ofour regular customers! As I mentioned, we found the wanted Chinaman,three parts drunk, in one of the rooms."
"It's a sort of lodging-house, then?"
"Exactly. There's a moderately big room just behind the shop,principally used by opium-smokers, and a whole nest of smaller roomsabove and below. Mind you, sir, I don't say this is the place you'relooking for, but it's the most likely inside your circle."
"Who is the proprietor?"
"A retired Chinese sailor called Ah-Fang-Fu, but better known as'Pidgin.' His establishment is called locally 'The Pidgin House.'"
"Ah." The Commissioner lighted a cigarette. "And you know of no otherhouse which might be selected for such a purpose as I have mentioned?"
"I can't say I do, sir. I know pretty well all the business affairs ofthat neighbourhood, and none of the houses inside your circle havechanged hands during the past twelve months. Between ourselves, sir,nearly all the property in the district belongs to Ah-Fang-Fu, andanything that goes on in Chinatown _he_ knows about!"
"Ah, I see. Then in any event he is the man we want to watch?"
"Well, sir, you ought to keep an eye on his visitors, I should say."
"I am obliged to you, Inspector," said the courteous AssistantCommissioner, "for your very exact information. If necessary I shallcommunicate with you again. Good-day."
"Good-day, sir," replied the Inspector. "Good-day, gentlemen."
He went out.
Gaston Max, who had diplomatically remained in the backgroundthroughout this interview, now spoke.
_"Pardieu!_ but I have been thinking," he said. "Although 'TheScorpion,' as I hope, believes that that troublesome Charles Malet isdead, he may also wonder if Scotland Yard has secured from Dr.Stuart's fire any fragments of the information sealed in the envelope!What does it mean, this releasing of the yellow car, closing of thebank account and departure from the Savoy?"
"It means flight!" cried Dunbar, jumping violently to his feet. "Bygad, sir!" he turned to the Assistant Commissioner--"the birds mayhave flown already!"
The Assistant Commissioner leaned back in his chair.
"I have sufficient confidence in M. Max," he said, "to believe that,having taken the responsibility of permitting this dangerous group tolearn that they were under surveillance, he has good reason tosuppose that they have not slipped through our fingers."
Gaston Max bowed.
"It is true," he replied, and from his pocket he took a slip of flimsypaper. "This code message reached me as I was about to leave my hotel.The quadroon, Miguel, left Paris last night and arrived in London thismorning----"
"He was followed?" cried Dunbar.
"But certainly. He was followed to Limehouse, and he was definitelyseen to enter the establishment described to us by Inspector Kelly!"
"Gad!" said Dunbar--"then _someone_ is still there?"
"Someone, as you say, is still there," replied Max. "But everythingpoints to the imminent departure of this someone. Will you see to it,Inspector, that not a rat--_pardieu_ not a little mouse--is allowed toslip out of our red circle to-day. For to-night we shall pay afriendly visit to the house of Ah-Fang-Fu, and I should wish all thecompany to be present."