|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 35
"I'm going out," he explained.
"After what I've said?"
"After what you've said. I'm going out. If I don't come back or
don't telephone within the next hour, you will know what to do
with this."
The Limehouse official stared perplexedly.
"But meanwhile," he protested, "what steps am I to take about the
murder? Durham will be back with the body at any moment now, and
you say you've got a clue to the murderer."
"I have," said Kerry, "but I'm going to get definite evidence.
Do nothing until you hear from me."
"Very good," answered the other, and Kerry, tucking his malacca
cane under his arm, strode out into the fog.
His knowledge of the Limehouse area was extensive and peculiar,
so that twenty minutes later, having made only one mistake in the
darkness, he was pressing an electric bell set beside a door
which alone broke the expanse of a long and dreary brick wall,
lining a street which neither by day nor night would have seemed
inviting to the casual visitor.
The door was opened by a Chinaman wearing national dress,
revealing a small, square lobby, warmly lighted and furnished
Orientally. Kerry stepped in briskly.
"I want to see Mr. Zani Chada. Tell him I am here. Chief
Inspector Kerry is my name."
The Chinaman bowed, crossed the lobby, and, drawing some curtains
aside, walked up four carpeted stairs and disappeared into a
short passage revealed by the raising of the tapestry. As he did
so Kerry stared about him curiously.
He had never before entered the mystery house of Zani Chada, nor
had he personally encountered the Eurasian, reputed to be a
millionaire, but who chose, for some obscure reason, to make his
abode in this old rambling building, once a country mansion,
which to-day was closely invested by dockland and the narrow
alleys of Chinatown. It was curiously still in the lobby, and,
as he determined, curiously Eastern. He was conscious of a sense
of exhilaration. That Zani Chada controlled powerful influences,
he knew well. But, reviewing the precautions which he had taken,
Kerry determined that the trump card was in his possession.
The Chinese servant descended the stairs again and intimated that
the visitor should follow him. Kerry, carrying his hat and cane,
mounted the stairs, walked along the carpeted passage, and was
ushered into a queer, low room furnished as a library.
It was lined with shelves containing strange-looking books, none
of which appeared to be English. Upon the top of the shelves
were grotesque figures of gods, pieces of Chinese pottery and
other Oriental ornaments. Arms there were in the room, and rich
carpets, carven furniture, and an air of luxury peculiarly
exotic. Furthermore, he detected a faint smell of opium from
which fact he divined that Zani Chada was addicted to the
national vice of China.
Seated before a long narrow table was the notorious Eurasian.
The table contained a number of strange and unfamiliar objects,
as well as a small rack of books. An opium pipe rested in a
porcelain bowl.
Zani Chada, wearing a blue robe, sat in a cushioned chair,
staring toward the Chief Inspector. With one slender yellow hand
he brushed his untidy gray hair. His long magnetic eyes were
half closed.
"Good evening, Chief Inspector Kerry," he said. "Won't you be
seated?"
"Thanks, I'm not staying. I can hear what you've got to say
standing."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|