by Sax Rohmer
XVII
KAN-SUH CONCESSIONS
Soames' character was of a pliable sort, and ere many days had passedhe had grown accustomed to this unnatural existence among the livingcorpses in the catacombs of Ho-Pin.
He rarely saw Ho-Pin, and desired not to see him at all; as for Mr.King, he even endeavored to banish from his memory the name of thatshadowy being. The memory of the Eurasian he could not banish, and wasever listening for the silvery voice, but in vain. He had no particularduties, apart from the care of the six rooms known as Block A, andsituated in the corridor to the left of the cave of the golden dragon;this, and the valeting of departing occupants. But the hours at which hewas called upon to perform these duties varied very greatly. Sometimeshe would attend to four human wrecks in the same morning; whilst,perhaps on the following day, he would not be called upon to officiateuntil late in the evening. One fact early became evident to him.There was a ceaseless stream of these living dead men pouring into thecatacombs of Ho-Pin, coming he knew not whence, and issuing forth again,he knew not whither.
Twice in the first week of his new and strange service he recognized theoccupants of the rooms as men whom he had seen in the upper world. Onentering the room of one of these (at ten o'clock at night) he almostcried out in his surprise; for the limp, sallow-faced creature extendedupon the bed before him was none other than Sir Brian Malpas--thebrilliant politician whom his leaders had earmarked for office in thenext Cabinet!
As Soames stood contemplating him stretched there in his stupor,he found it hard to credit the fact that this was the same man whompolitical rivals feared for his hard brilliance, whom society courted,and whose engagement to the daughter of a peer had been announced only afew months before.
Throughout this time, Soames had made no attempt to seek the light ofday: he had not seen a newspaper; he knew nothing of the hue and cryraised throughout England, of the hunt for the murderer of Mrs. Vernon.He suffered principally from lack of companionship. The only human beingwith whom he ever came in contact was Said, the Egyptian; and Said, atbest, was uncommunicative. A man of very limited intellect, Luke Soameshad been at a loss for many days to reconcile Block A and its temporaryoccupants with any comprehensible scheme of things. Whereas some ofthe rooms would be laden with nauseating fumes, others would be free ofthese; the occupants, again, exhibited various symptoms.
That he was a servant of an opium-den de luxe did not for some timebecome apparent to him; then, when first the theory presented itself, hewas staggered by a discovery so momentous.
But it satisfied his mind only partially. Some men whom he valeted mighthave been doped with opium, certainly, but all did not exhibit thoseindications which, from hearsay, he associated with the resin of thewhite poppy.
Knowing nothing of the numerous and exotic vices which have sprung fromthe soil of the Orient, he was at a loss for a full explanation of thefacts as he saw them.
Finding himself unmolested, and noting, in the privacy of his ownapartment, how handsomely his tips were accumulating, Soames was rapidlybecoming reconciled to his underground existence, more especially asit spelt safety to a man wanted by the police. His duties thus far hadnever taken him beyond the corridor known as Block A; what might lie onthe other side of the cave of the golden dragon he knew not. He neversaw any of the habitues arrive, or actually leave; he did not knowwhether the staff of the place consisted of himself, Said, Ho-Pin, theEurasian girl--and... the other, or if there were more servants of thisunseen master. But never a day passed by that the clearance of at leastone apartment did not fall to his lot, and never an occupant quittedthose cells without placing a golden gratuity in the valet's palm.
His appetite returned, and he slept soundly enough in his clean whitebedroom, content to lose the upper world, temporarily, and to become adweller in the catacombs--where tips were large and plentiful. Hiswas the mind of a domestic animal, neither learning from the past norquestioning the future; but dwelling only in the well-fed present.
No other type of European, however lowly, could have supported existencein such a place.
Thus the days passed, and the nights passed, the one mergedimperceptibly in the other. At the end of the first week, two sovereignsappeared upon the breakfast tray which Said brought to Soames' room;and, some little time later, Said reappeared with his bottles andparaphernalia to renew the ex-butler's make-up. As he was leaving theroom:
"Ahu hina--G'nap'lis effendi!" he muttered, and went out as Mr.Gianapolis entered.
At sight of the Greek, Soames realized, in one emotional moment, howreally lonely he had been and how in his inmost heart he longed for asight of the sun, for a breath of unpolluted air, for a glimpse of gray,homely London.
All the old radiance had returned to Gianapolis; his eyes were crossedin an amiable smile.
"My dear Soames!" he cried, greeting the really delighted man. "How wellyour new complexion suits you! Sit down, Soames, sit down, and let ustalk."
Soames placed a chair for Gianapolis, and seated himself upon the bed,twirling his thumbs in the manner which was his when under the influenceof excitement.
"Now, Soames," continued Gianapolis--"I mean Lucas!--my anticipations,which I mentioned to you on the night of--the accident... you remember?"
"Yes," said Soames rapidly, "yes."
"Well, they have been realized. Our establishment, here, continues toflourish as of yore. Nothing has come to light in the press calculatedto prejudice us in the eyes of our patrons, and although your own name,Soames"...
Soames started and clutched at the bedcover.
"Although your own name has been freely mentioned on all sides, it isnot generally accepted that you perpetrated the deed."
Soames discovered his hair to be bristling; his skin tingled with anervous apprehension.
"That I," he began dryly, paused and swallowed--"that I perpetrated....Has it been"...
"It has been hinted at by one or two Fleet Street theorists--yes,Soames! But the post-mortem examination of--the victim, revealed thefact that she was addicted to drugs"...
"Opium?" asked Soames, eagerly.
Gianapolis smiled.
"What an observant mind you have, Soames!" he said. "So you haveperceived that these groves are sacred to our Lady of the Poppies? Well,in part that is true. Here, under the auspices of Mr. Ho-Pin, fretfulsociety seeks the solace of the brass pipe; yes, Soames, that is true.Have you ever tried opium?"
"Never!" declared Soames, with emphasis, "never!"
"Well, it is a delight in store for you! But the reason of our existenceas an institution, Soames, is not far to seek. Once the joys of Chandubecome perceptible to the neophyte, a great need is felt--a crying need.One may drink opium or inject morphine; these, and other crude measures,may satisfy temporarily, but if one would enjoy the delights of thatfairyland, of that enchanted realm which bountiful nature has concealedin the heart of the poppy, one must retire from the ken of gothsand vandals who do not appreciate such exquisite delights; one mustdedicate, not an hour snatched from grasping society, but successivedays and nights to the goddess"...
Soames, barely understanding this discourse, listened eagerly to everyword of it, whilst Gianapolis, waxing eloquent upon his strange thesis,seemed to be addressing, not his solitary auditor, but an invisibleconcourse.
"In common with the lesser deities," he continued, "our Lady of thePoppies is exacting. After a protracted sojourn at her shrine, so keenare the delights which she opens up to her worshipers, that a period oflassitude, of exhaustion, inevitably ensues. This precludes the properworship of the goddess in the home, and necessitates--I say NECESSITATESthe presence, in such a capital as London, of a suitable Temple. Youhave the honor, Soames, to be a minor priest of that Temple!"
Soames brushed his dyed hair with his fingers and endeavored to lookintelligent.
"A branch establishment--merely a sacred caravanserai where votariesmight repose ere reentering the ruder world," continued Gianapolis--"hasunfortunately been raided by
the police!"
With that word, POLICE, he seemed to come to earth again.
"Our arrangements, I am happy to say, were such that not one of thestaff was found on the premises and no visible link existed betweenthat establishment and this. But now let us talk about yourself. You maysafely take an evening off, I think"...
He scrutinized Soames attentively.
"You will be discreet as a matter of course, and I should not recommendyour visiting any of your former haunts. I make this proposal, ofcourse, with the full sanction of Mr. King."
The muscles of Soames' jaw tightened at sound of the name, and heavoided the gaze of the crossed eyes.
"And the real purpose of my visit here this morning is to acquaint youwith the little contrivance by which we ensure our privacy here. Onceyou are acquainted with it, you can take the air every evening atsuitable hours, on application to Mr. Ho-Pin."
Soames coughed dryly.
"Very good," he said in a strained voice; "I am glad of that."
"I knew you would be glad, Soames," declared the smiling Gianapolis;"and now, if you will step this way, I will show you the door by whichyou must come and go." He stood up, then bent confidentially to Soames'ear. "Mr. King, very wisely," he whispered, "has retained you on thepremises hitherto, because some doubt, some little doubt, remainedrespecting the information which had come into the possession of thepolice."
Again that ominous word! But ere Soames had time to reflect, Gianapolisled the way out of the room and along the matting-lined corridor intothe apartment of the golden dragon. Soames observed, with a nervoustremor, that Mr. Ho-Pin sat upon one of the lounges, smoking acigarette, and arrayed in his usual faultless manner. He did not attemptto rise, however, as the pair entered, but merely nodded to Gianapolisand smiled mirthlessly at Soames.
They quitted the room by the door opening on the stone steps--thedoor by which Soames had first entered into that evil Aladdin's cave.Gianapolis went ahead, and Soames, following him, presently emergedthrough a low doorway into a concrete-paved apartment, having walls ofPortland stone and a white-washed ceiling. One end consisted solely of afolding gate, evidently designed to admit the limousine.
Gianapolis turned, as Soames stepped up beside him.
"If you will glance back," he said, "you will see exactly where the dooris situated."
Soames did as directed, and suppressed a cry of surprise. Four of thestone blocks were fictitious--were, in verity, a heavy wooden door,faced in some way with real, or imitation granite--a door communicatingwith the steps of the catacombs.
"Observe!" said Gianapolis.
He closed the door, which opened outward, and there remained nothingto show the keenest observer--unless he had resorted to sounding--thatthese four blocks differed in any way from their fellows.
"Ingenious, is it not?" said Gianapolis, genially. "And now, my dearSoames, observe again!"
He rolled back the folding gates; and beyond was a garage, wherein stoodthe big limousine.
"I keep my car here, Soames, for the sake of--convenience! And now, mydear Soames, when you go out this evening, Said will close this entranceafter you. When you return, which, I understand, you must do at teno'clock, you will enter the garage by the side door yonder, which willnot be locked, and you will press the electric button at the back ofthe petrol cans here--look! you can see it!--the inner door will then beopened for you. Step this way."
He passed between the car and the wall of the garage, opened the door atthe left of the entrance gates, and, Soames following, came out into anarrow lane. For the first time in many days Soames scented the cleanerair of the upper world, and with it he filled his lungs gratefully.
Behind him was the garage, before him the high wall of a yard, and, onhis right, for a considerable distance, extended a similar wall; in thelatter case evidently that of a wharf--for beyond it flowed the Thames.
Proceeding along beside this wall, the two came to the gates of awarehouse. They passed these, however, and entered a small office.Crossing the office, they gained the interior of the warehouse, wherechests bearing Chinese labels were stacked in great profusion.
"Then this place," began Soames...
"Is a ginger warehouse, Soames! There is a very small office staff, butsufficiently large to cope with the limited business done--in the importand export of ginger! The firm is known as Kan-Suh Concessions andimports preserved Chinese ginger from its own plantations in thatprovince of the Celestial Empire. There is a small wharf attached,as you may have noted. Oh! it is a going concern and perfectlyrespectable!"
Soames looked about him with wide-opened eyes.
"The ginger staff," said Gianapolis, "is not yet arrived. Mr. Ho-Pinis the manager. The lane, in which the establishment is situated,communicates with Limehouse Causeway, and, being a cul-de-sac, is littlefrequented. Only this one firm has premises actually opening into it andI have converted the small corner building at the extremity of the wharfinto a garage for my car. There are no means of communication betweenthe premises of Kan-Suh Concessions and those of the more importantenterprise below--and I, myself, am not officially associated with theginger trade. It is a precaution which we all adopt, however, never toenter or leave the garage if anyone is in sight."...
Soames became conscious of a new security. He set about his duties thatmorning with a greater alacrity than usual, valeting one of theliving dead men--a promising young painter whom he chanced to know bysight--with a return to the old affable manner which had rendered him sopopular during his career as cabin steward.
He felt that he was now part and parcel of Kan-Suh Concessions; thatKan-Suh Concessions and he were at one. He had yet to learn that hissense of security was premature, and that his added knowledge might bean added danger.
When Said brought his lunch into his room, he delivered also a slip ofpaper bearing the brief message:
"Go out 6.30--return 10."
Mr. Soames uncorked his daily bottle of Bass almost gaily, and attackedhis lunch with avidity.
