Dope, Sax Rohmer [good books to read for adults txt] 📗

door. “Me shinee him up; makee Joss glad. Number one piecee Joss.”

Kerry turned and stared into the pock-marked smiling face. Seen in that dim light it was not unlike the carved face of the image, save that the latter possessed two open eyes and the Chinaman but one. The details of the room were indiscernible, lost in yellowish shadow, but the eye of the raven and the eye of Sin Sin Wa glittered like strange jewels.

“H'm,” said Kerry. “Sorry to interrupt your devotions. Light us.”

“Allee velly proper,” crooned Sin Sin Wa.

He took up the Joss tenderly and bore it across the room. Opening a little cupboard set low down near the floor he discovered a lighted lantern. This he took out and set upon the dirty table. Then he placed the image on a shelf in the cupboard and turned smilingly to his visitors.

“Number one p'lice!” shrieked the raven.

“Here!” snapped Kerry. “Put that damn thing to bed!”

“Velly good,” murmured Sin Sin Wa complacently.

He raised his hand to his shoulder and the raven stepped sedately from shoulder to wrist. Sin Sin Wa stooped.

“Come, Tling-a-Ling,” he said softly. “You catchee sleepee.”

The raven stepped down from his wrist and walked into the cupboard.

“So fashion, lo!” said Sin Sin Wa, closing the door.

He seated himself upon a tea-chest beside the useful cupboard, resting his hands upon his knees and smiling.

Kerry, chewing steadily, had watched the proceedings in silence, but now:

“Constable Bryce,” he said crisply, “you recognize this man as Sin Sin Wa, the occupier of the house?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Bryce.

He was not wholly at ease, and persistently avoided the Chinaman's oblique, beady eye.

“In the ordinary course of your duty you frequently pass along this street?”

“It's the limit of the Limehouse beat, sir. Poplar patrols on the other side.”

“So that at this point, or hereabout, you would sometimes meet the constable on the next beat?”

“Well, sir,” Bryce hesitated, clearing his throat, “this street isn't properly in his district.”

“I didn't say it was!” snapped Kerry, glaring fiercely at the embarrassed constable. “I said you would sometimes meet him here.”

“Yes, sometimes.”

“Sometimes. Right. Did you ever come in here?”

The constable ventured a swift glance at the savage red face, and:

“Yes, sir, now and then,” he confessed. “Just for a warm on a cold night, maybe.”

“Allee velly welcome,” murmured Sin Sin Wa.

Kerry never for a moment removed his fixed gaze from the face of Bryce.

“Now, my lad,” he said, “I'm going to ask you another question. I'm not saying a word about the warm on a cold night. We're all human. But—did you ever see or hear or smell anything suspicious in this house?”

“Never,” affirmed the constable earnestly.

“Did anything ever take place that suggested to your mind that Sin Sin Wa might be concealing something—upstairs, for instance?”

“Never a thing, sir. There's never been a complaint about him.”

“Allee velly proper,” crooned Sin Sin Wa.

Kerry stared intently for some moments at Bryce; then, turning suddenly to Sin Sin Wa:

“I want to see your wife,” he said. “Fetch her.”

Sin Sin Wa gently patted his knees.

“She velly bad woman,” he declared. “She no hate topside pidgin.”

“Don't talk!” shouted Kerry. “Fetch her!”

Sin Sin Wa turned his hands palms upward.

“Me no hate gotchee wifee,” he murmured.

Kerry took one pace forward.

“Fetch her,” he said; “or—” He drew a pair of handcuffs from the pocket of his oilskin.

“Velly bad luck,” murmured Sin Sin Wa. “Catchee trouble for wifee no got.”

He extended his wrists, meeting the angry glare of the Chief Inspector with a smile of resignation. Kerry bit savagely at his chewing-gum, glancing aside at Bryce.

“Did you ever see his wife?” he snapped.

“No, sir. I didn't know he had one.”

“No habgotchee,” murmured Sin Sin Wa, “velly bad woman.”

“For the last time,” said Kerry, stooping and thrusting his face forward so that his nose was only some six inches from that of Sin Sin Wa, “where's Mrs. Sin?”

“Catchee lun off,” replied the Chinaman blandly. “Velly bad woman. Tlief woman. Catchee stealee alla my dollars!”

“Eh!”

Kerry stood upright, moving his shoulders and rattling the handcuffs.

“Comee here when Sin Sin Wa hate gone for catchee shavee, liftee alla my dollars, and-pff! chee-lo!”

He raised his hand and blew imaginary fluff into space. Kerry stared down at him with an expression in which animal ferocity and helplessness were oddly blended. Then:

“Bryce,” he said, “stay here. I'm going to search the house.”

“Very good, sir.”

Kerry turned again to the Chinaman.

“Is there anyone upstairs?” he demanded.

“Nobody hate. Sin Sin Wa alla samee lonesome. Catchee shinum him joss.”

Kerry dropped the handcuffs back into the pocket of his overall and took out an electric torch. With never another glance at Sin Sin Wa he went out into the passage and began to mount the stairs, presently finding himself in a room filled with all sorts of unsavory rubbish and containing a large cupboard. He uttered an exclamation of triumph.

Crossing the littered floor, and picking his way amid broken cane chairs, tea-chests, discarded garments and bedlaths, he threw open the cupboard door. Before him hung a row of ragged clothes and a number of bowler hats. Directing the ray of the torch upon the unsavory collection, he snatched coats and hats from the hooks upon which they depended and hurled them impatiently upon the floor.

When the cupboard was empty he stepped into it and began to bang upon the back. The savagery of his expression grew more marked than usual, and as he chewed his maxillary muscles protruded extraordinarily.

“If ever I sounded a brick wall,” he