Dope, Sax Rohmer [good books to read for adults txt] 📗
- Author: Sax Rohmer
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“His passports?” murmured Lord Wrexborough.
Seton Pasha smiled grimly.
“Not an insurmountable difficulty, sir,” he replied, “but Sin Sin Wa is a marked man. He has the longest and thickest pigtail which I ever saw on a human scalp. I take it he is a Southerner of the old school; therefore, he won't cut it off. He has also only one eye, and while there are many one-eyed Chinamen, there are few one-eyed Chinamen who possess pigtails like a battleship's hawser. Furthermore, he travels with a talking raven, and I'll swear he won't leave it behind. On the other hand, he is endowed with an amount of craft which comes very near to genius.”
“And—Mrs. Monte Irvin?”
Quentin Gray turned suddenly, and his boyish face was very pale.
“Seton, Seton!” he said. “For God's sake tell me the truth! Do you think—”
He stopped, choking emotionally. Seton Pasha watched him with that cool, confident stare which could either soothe or irritate; and:
“She was alive this morning, Gray,” he replied quietly, “we heard her. You may take it from me that they will offer her no violence. I shall say no more.”
Lord Wrexborough cleared his throat and took up a document from the table.
“Your remark raises another point, Quentin,” he said sternly, “which has to be settled today. Your appointment to Cairo was confirmed this morning. You sail on Tuesday.”
Quentin Gray turned again abruptly and stared out of the window.
“You're practically kicking me out, sir,” he said. “I don't know what I've done.”
“You have done nothing,” replied Lord Wrexborough “which an honorable man may not do. But in common with many others similarly circumstanced, you seem inclined, now that your military duties are at an end, to regard life as a sort of perpetual 'leave.' I speak frankly before Seton because I know that he agrees with me. My friend the Foreign Secretary has generously offered you an appointment which opens up a career that should not—I repeat, that should not prove less successful than his own.”
Gray turned, and his face had flushed deeply.
“I know that Margaret has been scaring you about Rita Irvin,” he said, “but on my word, sir, there was no need to do it.”
He met Seton Pasha's cool regard, and:
“Margaret's one of the best,” he added. “I know you agree with me?”
A faint suggestion of added color came into Seton's tanned cheeks.
“I do, Gray,” he answered quietly. “I believe you are good enough to look upon me as a real friend; therefore allow me to add my advice, for what it is worth, to that of Lord Wrexborough and your cousin: take the Egyptian appointment. I know where it will lead. You can do no good by remaining in London; and when we find Mrs. Irvin your presence would be an embarrassment to the unhappy man who waits for news at Prince's Gate. I am frank, but it's my way.”
He held out his hand, smiling. Quentin Gray's mercurial complexion was changing again, but:
“Good old Seton!” he said, rather huskily, and gripped the outstretched hand. “For Irvin's sake, save her!”
He turned to his father.
“Thank you, sir,” he added, “you are always right. I shall be ready on Tuesday. I suppose you are off again, Seton?”
“I am,” was the reply. “Chief Inspector Kerry is moving heaven and earth to find the Kazmah establishment, and I don't want to come in a poor second.”
Lord Wrexborough cleared his throat and turned in the padded revolving chair.
“Honestly, Seton,” he said, “what do you think of your chance of success?”
Seton Pasha smiled grimly.
“Many ascribe success to wit,” he replied, “and failure to bad luck; but the Arab says 'Kismet.'”
CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE SONG OF SIN SIN WA
Mrs. Sin, aroused by her husband from the deep opium sleep, came out into the fume-laden vault. Her dyed hair was disarranged, and her dark eyes stared glassily before her; but even in this half-drugged state she bore herself with the lithe carriage of a dancer, swinging her hips lazily and pointing the toes of her high-heeled slippers.
“Awake, my wife,” crooned Sin Sin Wa. “Only a fool seeks the black smoke when the jackals sit in a ring.”
Mrs. Sin gave him a glance of smiling contempt—a glance which, passing him, rested finally upon the prone body of Chief Inspector Kerry lying stretched upon the floor before the stove. Her pupils contracted to mere pin-points and then dilated blackly. She recoiled a step, fighting with the stupor which her ill-timed indulgence had left behind.
At this moment Kerry groaned loudly, tossed his arm out with a convulsive movement, and rolled over on to his side, drawing up his knees.
The eye of Sin Sin Wa gleamed strangely, but he did not move, and Sam Tuk who sat huddled in his chair where his feet almost touched the fallen man, stirred never a muscle. But Mrs. Sin, who still moved in a semi-phantasmagoric world, swiftly raised the hem of her kimona, affording a glimpse of a shapely silk-clad limb. From a sheath attached to her garter she drew a thin stilletto. Curiously feline, she crouched, as if about to spring.
Sin Sin Wa extended his hand, grasping his wife's wrist.
“No, woman of indifferent intelligence,” he said in his queer sibilant language, “since when has murder gone unpunished in these British dominions?”
Mrs. Sin snatched her wrist from his grasp, falling back wild-eyed.
“Yellow ape! yellow ape!” she said hoarsely. “One more does not matter—now.”
“One more?” crooned Sin Sin Wa, glancing curiously at Kerry.
“They are here! We are trapped!”
“No, no,” said Sin Sin Wa. “He is a brave man; he comes alone.”
He paused, and then suddenly resumed in pidgin English:
“You likee killa him, eh?”
Perhaps unconscious that she did so, Mrs. Sin replied also in English:
“No, I am mad. Let me think, old fool!”
She dropped the stiletto and raised her hand dazedly to her brow.
“You gotchee tired of knifee chop, eh?” murmured Sin Sin Wa.
Mrs.
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