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Page 47
But the chill of the adjacent river, and some quality of utter
desolation which seemed to emanate from the deserted wharves and
ramshackle buildings about me, were driving me thither now; for I
knew that human companionship, of a sort, and a glass of good
liquor--from a store which the Customs would have been happy to
locate--awaited me there. I might chance, too, upon Durham or
Wessex, of New Scotland Yard, both good friends of mine, or even
upon the Terror of Chinatown, Chief Inspector Kerry, a man for
whom I had an esteem which none of his ungracious manners could
diminish.
I was just about to turn to the right into a narrow and nameless
alley, lying at right angles to the Thames, when I pulled up
sharply, clenching my fists and listening.
A confused and continuous sound, not unlike that which might be
occasioned by several large and savage hounds at close grips, was
proceeding out of the darkness ahead of me; a worrying, growling,
and scuffling which presently I identified as human, although in
fact it was animal enough. A moment I hesitated, then,
distinguishing among the sounds of conflict an unmistakable,
though subdued, cry for help, I leaped forward and found myself
in the midst of the melee. This was taking place in the lee of a
high, dilapidated brick wall. A lamp in a sort of iron bracket
spluttered dimly above on the right, but the scene of the
conflict lay in densest shadow, so that the figures were
indistinguishable.
"Help! By Gawd! they're strangling me------"
From almost at my feet the cry arose and was drowned in Chinese
chattering. But guided by it I now managed to make out that the
struggle in progress waged between a burly English sailorman and
two lithe Chinese. The yellow men seemed to have gained the
advantage and my course was clear.
A straight right on the jaw of the Chinaman who was engaged in
endeavouring to throttle the victim laid him prone in the dirty
roadway. His companion, who was holding the wrist of the
recumbent man, sprang upright as though propelled by a spring. I
struck out at him savagely. He uttered a shrill scream not
unlike that of a stricken hare, and fled so rapidly that he
seemed to melt in the mist.
"Gawd bless you, mate!" came chokingly from the ground--and the
rescued man, extricating himself from beneath the body of his
stunned assailant, rose unsteadily to his feet and lurched toward
me.
As I had surmised, he was a sailor, wearing a rough, blue-serge
jacket and having his greasy trousers thrust into heavy
seaboots--by which I judged that he was but newly come ashore.
He stooped and picked up his cap. It was covered in mud, as were
the rest of his garments, but he brushed it with his sleeve as
though it had been but slightly soiled and clapped it on his
head.
He grasped my hand in a grip of iron, peering into my face, and
his breath was eloquent.
"I'd had one or two, mate," he confided huskily (the confession
was unnecessary). "It was them two in the Blue Anchor as did it;
if I 'adn't 'ad them last two, I could 'ave broke up them Chinks
with one 'and tied behind me."
"That's all right," I said hastily, "but what are we going to do
about this Chink here?" I added, endeavouring at the same time to
extricate my hand from the vise-like grip in which he
persistently held it. "He hit the tiles pretty heavy when he
went down."
As if to settle my doubts, the recumbent figure suddenly arose
and without a word fled into the darkness and was gone like a
phantom. My new friend made no attempt to follow, but:
"You can't kill a bloody Chink," he confided, still clutching my
hand; "it ain't 'umanly possible. It's easier to kill a cat.
Come along o' me and 'ave one; then I'll tell you somethink.
I'll put you on somethink, I will."
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