by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XXX. THE FIGHT IN THE DARK
Towards eleven o'clock at night the fog began slightly to lift. As Kerrycrossed the bridge over Limehouse Canal he could vaguely discern thedirty water below, and street lamps showed dimly, surrounded each by ahalo of yellow mist. Fog signals were booming on the railway, and fromthe great docks in the neighborhood mechanical clashings and hammeringswere audible.
Turning to the right, Kerry walked on for some distance, and thensuddenly stepped into the entrance to a narrow cul-de-sac and stoodquite still.
A conviction had been growing upon him during the past twelve hoursthat someone was persistently and cleverly dogging his footsteps. Hehad first detected the presence of this mysterious follower outside thehouse of Sin Sin Wa, but the density of the fog had made it impossiblefor him to obtain a glimpse of the man's face. He was convinced, too,that he had been followed back to Leman Street, and from there to NewScotland Yard. Now, again he became aware of this persistent presence,and hoped at last to confront the spy.
Below footsteps, the footsteps of someone proceeding with the utmostcaution, came along the pavement. Kerry stood close to the wall of thecourt, one hand in a pocket of his overall, waiting and chewing.
Nearer came the footsteps--and nearer. A shadowy figure appeared only ayard or so away from the watchful Chief Inspector. Thereupon he acted.
With one surprising spring he hurled himself upon the unprepared man,grasped him by his coat collar, and shone the light of an electric torchfully into his face.
"Hell!" he snapped. "The smart from Spinker's!"
The ray of the torch lighted up the mean, pinched face of Brisley,blanched now by fright, gleamed upon the sharp, hooked nose and into thecunning little brown eyes. Brisley licked his lips. In Kerry's musculargrip he bore quite a remarkable resemblance to a rat in the jaws of aterrier.
"Ho, ho!" continued the Chief Inspector, showing his teeth savagely. "Sowe let Scotland Yard make the pie, and then we steal all the plums, dowe?"
He shook the frightened man until Brisley's broad-brimmed bowler wasshaken off, revealing the receding brow and scanty neutral-colored hair.
"We let Scotland Yard work night and day, and then we present ourrat-faced selves to Mr. Monte Irvin and say we have 'found the lady' dowe?" Another vigorous shake followed. "We track Chief Inspectors ofthe Criminal Investigation Department, do we? We do, eh? We are dirty,skulking mongrels, aren't we? We require to be kicked from Limehouse toParadise, don't we?" He suddenly released Brisley. "So we shall be!" heshouted furiously.
Hot upon the promise came the deed.
Brisley sent up a howl of pain as Kerry's right brogue came into violentcontact with his person. The assault almost lifted him off his feet, andhatless as he was he set off, running as a man runs whose life dependsupon his speed. The sound of his pattering footsteps was echoed fromwall to wall of the cul-de-sac until finally it was swallowed up in thefog.
Kerry stood listening for some moments, then, directing a furious kickupon the bowler which lay at his feet, he snapped off the light ofthe torch and pursued his way. The lesser mystery was solved, but thegreater was before him.
He had made a careful study of the geography of the neighborhood, andalthough the fog was still dense enough to be confusing, he found hisway without much difficulty to the street for which he was bound.Some fifteen paces along the narrow thoroughfare he came upon someonestanding by a closed door set in a high brick wall. The street containedno dwelling houses, and except for the solitary figure by the door wasdeserted and silent. Kerry took out his torch and shone a white ringupon the smiling countenance of Detective-Sergeant Coombes.
"If that smile gets any worse," he said irritably, "they'll have to moveyour ears back. Anything to report?"
"Sin Sin Wa went to bed an hour ago."
"Any visitors?"
"No."
"Has he been out?"
"No."
"Got the ladder?"
"Yes."
"All quiet in the neighborhood?"
"All quiet."
"Good."
The street in which this conversation took place was one running roughlyparallel with that in which the house of Sin Sin Wa was situated. Adetailed search of the Chinaman's premises had failed to bring to lightany scrap of evidence to show that opium had ever been smoked there. Ofthe door described by Mollie Gretna, and said to communicate with theadjoining establishment, not a trace could be found. But the fact thatsuch a door had existed did not rest solely upon Mollie's testimony.From one of the "beat-ups" interviewed that day, Kerry had succeeded inextracting confirmatory evidence.
Inquiries conducted in the neighborhood of Poplar had brought to lightthe fact that four of the houses in this particular street, includingthat occupied by Sin Sin Wa and that adjoining it, belonged to a certainMr. Jacobs, said to reside abroad. Mr. Jacob's rents were collectedby an estate agent, and sent to an address in San Francisco. For somereason not evident to this man of business, Mr. Jacobs demanded a rentalfor the house next to Sin Sin Wa's, which was out of all proportion tothe value of the property. Hence it had remained vacant for a number ofyears. The windows were broken and boarded up, as was the door.
Kerry realized that the circumstance of the landlord of "The House ofa Hundred Raptures" being named Jacobs, and the lessee of the CubanisCigarette Company's premises in old Bond Street being named Isaacs,might be no more than a coincidence. Nevertheless it was odd. Hehad determined to explore the place without unduly advertising hisintentions.
Two modes of entrance presented themselves. There was a trap on theroof, but in order to reach it access would have to be obtained to oneof the other houses in the row, which also possessed a roof-trap; orthere were four windows overlooking a little back yard, two upstairs andtwo down.
By means of a short ladder which Coombes had brought for the purposeKerry climbed on to the wall and dropped into the yard.
"The jemmy!" he said softly.
Coombes, also mounting, dropped the required implement. Kerry caught itdeftly, and in a very few minutes had wrenched away the rough plankingnailed over one of the lower windows, without making very much noise.
"Shall I come down?" inquired Coombes in muffled tones from the top ofthe wall.
"No," rapped Kerry. "Hide the ladder again. If I want help I'll whistle.Catch!"
He tossed the jemmy up to Coombes, and Coombes succeeded in catching it.Then Kerry raised the glass-less sash of the window and stepped into alittle room, which he surveyed by the light of his electric torch. Itwas filthy and littered with rubbish, but showed no sign of having beenoccupied for a long time. The ceiling was nearly black, and so were thewalls. He went out into a narrow passage similar to that in the house ofSin Sin Wa and leading to a stair.
Walking quietly, he began to ascend. Mollie Gretna's description of theopium-house had been most detailed and lurid, and he was prepared forsome extravagant scene.
He found three bare, dirty rooms, having all the windows boarded up.
"Hell!" he said succinctly.
Resting his torch upon a dust-coated ledge of the room, whichpresumably was situated in the front of the house, he deposited a cud ofchewing-gum in the empty grate and lovingly selected a fresh piece fromthe packet which he always carried. Once more chewing he returned to thenarrow passage, which he knew must be that in which the secret doorwayhad opened.
It was uncarpeted and dirty, and the walls were covered with fadedfilthy paper, the original color and design of which were quite lost.There was not the slightest evidence that a door had ever existed in anypart of the wall. Following a detailed examination Kerry returned hismagnifying glass to the washleather bag and the bag to his waistcoatpocket.
"H'm," he said, thinking aloud, "Sin Sin Wa may have only one eye, butit's a good eye."
He raised his glance to the blackened ceiling of the passage, and sawthat the trap giving access to the roof was situated immediately abovehim. He directed the ray of the torch upon it. In the next m
oment he hadsnapped off the light and was creeping silently towards the door of thefront room.
The trap had moved slightly!
Gaining the doorway, Kerry stood just inside the room and waited. Hebecame conscious of a kind of joyous excitement, which claimed him atsuch moments; an eagerness and a lust of action. But he stood perfectlystill, listening and waiting.
There came a faint creaking sound, and a new damp chilliness was addedto the stale atmosphere of the passage. Someone had quietly raised thetrap.
Cutting through the blackness like a scimitar shone a ray of lightfrom above, widening as it descended and ending in a white patch onthe floor. It was moved to and fro. Then it disappeared. Another vaguecreaking sound followed--that caused by a man's weight being imposedupon a wooden framework.
Finally came a thud on the bare boards of the floor.
Complete silence ensued. Kerry waited, muscles tense and brain alert. Heeven suspended the chewing operation. A dull, padding sound reached hisears.
From the quality of the thud which had told of the intruder's dropfrom the trap to the floor, Kerry had deduced that he wore rubber-soledshoes. Now, the sound which he could hear was that of the stranger'sfurtive footsteps. He was approaching the doorway in which Kerry wasstanding.
Just behind the open door Kerry waited. And unheralded by any furthersound to tell of his approach, the intruder suddenly shone a ray oflight right into the room. He was on the threshold; only the doorconcealed him from Kerry, and concealed Kerry from the new-comer.
The disc of light cast into the dirty room grew smaller. The man withthe torch was entering. A hand which grasped a magazine pistol appearedbeyond the edge of the door, and Kerry's period of inactivity came to anend. Leaning back he adroitly kicked the weapon from the hand of the manwho held it!
There was a smothered cry of pain, and the pistol fell clattering onthe floor. The light went out, too. As it vanished Kerry leapt from hishiding-place. Snapping on the light of his own pocket lamp, he ran outinto the passage.
Crack! came the report of a pistol.
Kerry dropped flat on the floor. He had not counted on the intruderbeing armed with two pistols! His pocket lamp, still alight, fell besidehim, and he lay in a curiously rigid attitude on his side, one kneedrawn up and his arm thrown across his face.
Carefully avoiding the path of light cast by the fallen torch, theunseen stranger approached silently. Pistol in hand, he bent, nearer andnearer, striving to see the face of the prostrate man. Kerry lay deathlystill. The other dropped on one knee and bent closely over him....
Swiftly as a lash Kerry's arm was whipped around the man's neck, andhelpless he pitched over on to his head! Uttering a dull groan, he layheavy and still across Kerry's body.
"Flames!" muttered the Chief Inspector, extricating himself; "I didn'tmean to break his neck."
He took up the electric torch, and shone it upon the face of the man onthe floor. It was a dirty, unshaven face, unevenly tanned, as thoughthe man had worn a beard until quite recently and had come from a hotclimate. He was attired in a manner which suggested that he might be aship's fireman save that he wore canvas shoes having rubber soles.
Kerry stood watching him for some moments. Then he groped behind himwith one foot until he found the pistol, the second pistol which the manhad dropped as he pitched on his skull. Kerry picked it up, and restingthe electric torch upon the crown of his neat bowler hat--which lay uponthe floor--he stooped, pistol in hand, and searched the pockets of theprostrate man, who had begun to breathe stertorously. In the breastpocket he found a leather wallet of good quality; and at this he stared,a curious expression coming into his fierce eyes. He opened it, andfound Treasury notes, some official-looking papers, and a number ofcards. Upon one of these cards be directed the light, and this is whathe read:
Lord Wrexborough Great Cumberland Place, V. 1 "To introduce 719. W."
"God's truth!" gasped Kerry. "It's the man from Whitehall!"
The stertorous breathing ceased, and a very dirty hand was thrust up tohim.
"I'm glad you spoke, Chief Inspector Kerry," drawled a vaguely familiarvoice. "I was just about to kick you in the back of the neck!"
Kerry dropped the wallet and grasped the proffered hand. "719" stoodup, smiling grimly. Footsteps were clattering on the stairs. Coombes hadheard the shot.
"Sir," said Kerry, "if ever you need a testimonial to your efficiencyat this game, my address is Sixty-seven Spenser Road, Brixton. We've metbefore."
"We have, Chief Inspector," was the reply. "We met at Kazmah's, andlater at a certain gambling den in Soho."
The pseudo fireman dragged a big cigar-case from his hip-pocket.
"I'm known as Seton Pasha. Can I offer you a cheroot?"
