Dope

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21

"You refused?" he rapped.

"Of course I did, Inspector," said Mollie, with a timid, tender
glance. "I thought you were the proper person to tell."

"Then you know?" asked Kerry, unable to conceal his eagerness.

"Yes," sighed Mollie. "Unfortunately--I know. Oh Inspector, how can I
explain it to you?"

"Don't trouble, miss. Just give me the address and I'll ask no
questions!"

His keenness was thrilling, infectious. As a result of the night's
"beating" he had a list of some twenty names whose owners might have
been patrons of Kazmah and some of whom might know Mrs. Sin. But he
had learned from bitter experience how difficult it was to induce such
people to give useful evidence. There was practically no means of
forcing them to speak if they chose, from selfish motives, to be
silent. They could be forced to appear in court, but anything elicited
in public was worse than useless. Furthermore, Kerry could not afford
to wait. Mollie replied excitedly:

"Oh, Inspector, I know you will think me simply an appalling person
when I tell you; but I have been to Mrs. Sin's house--'The House of a
Hundred Raptures' she calls it--"

"Yes, yes! But--the address?"

"However can I tell you the address, Inspector? I could drive you
there, but I haven't the very haziest idea of the name of the horrible
street! One drives along dreadful roads where there are stalls and
Jews for quite an interminable time, and then over a sort of canal,
and then round to the right all among ships and horrid Chinamen. Then,
there is a doorway in a little court, and Mrs. Sin's husband sits
inside a smelly room with a positively ferocious raven who shrieks
about legs and policemen! Oh! Can I ever forget it!"

"One moment, miss, one moment," said Kerry, keeping an iron control
upon himself. "What is the name of Mrs. Sin's husband?"

"Oh, let me think! I can always remember it by recalling the croak of
the raven." She raised one hand to her brow, posing reflectively, and
began to murmur:

"Sin Sin Ah . . . Sin Sin Jar . . . Sin Sin--Oh! I have it! Sin Sin
Wa!"

"Good!" rapped Kerry, and made a note on the block. "Sin Sin Wa, and
he has a pet raven, you say, who talks?"

"Who positively talks like some horrid old woman!" cried Mollie. "He
has only one eye."

"The raven?"

"The raven, yes--and also the Chinaman."

"What!"

"Oh! it's a nightmare to behold them together!" declared Mollie,
clasping her hands and bending forward.

She was gaining courage, and now looked almost boldly into the fierce
eyes of the Chief Inspector.

"Describe the house," he said succinctly. "Take your time and use your
own words."

Thereupon Mollie launched into a description of Sin Sin Wa's opium-
house. Kerry, his eyes fixed upon her face, listened silently. Then:

"These little rooms are really next door?" he asked.

"I suppose so, Inspector. We always went through the back of a
cupboard!"

"Can you give me names of others who used this place?"

"Well"--Mollie hesitated--"poor Rita, of course and Sir Lucien. Then,
Cyrus Kilfane used to go."

"Kilfane? The American actor?"

"Yes."

"H'm. He's back in America, Sir Lucien is dead, and Mrs. Irvin is
missing. Nobody else?"

Mollie shook her head.

"Who first took you there?"

"Cyrus Kilfane."

"Not Sir Lucien?"

"Oh, no. But both of them had been before."

"What was Kazmah's connection with Mrs. Sin and her husband?"

"I have no idea, Inspector. Kazmah used to supply cocaine and veronal
and trional and heroin, but those who wanted to smoke opium he sent to
Mrs. Sin."

"What! he gave them her address?"

"No, no! He gave her their address."

"I see. She called?"

"Yes. Oh, Inspector"--Mollie bent farther forward--"I can see in your
eyes that you think I am fabulously wicked! Shall I be arrested?"

Kerry coughed drily and stood up.

"Probably not, miss. But you may be required to give evidence."

"Oh, actually?" cried Mollie, also standing up and approaching nearer.

"Yes. Shall you object?"

Mollie looked into his eyes.

"Not if I can be of the slightest assistance to you, Inspector."

A theory to explain why this social butterfly had sought him out as a
recipient of her compromising confidences presented itself to Kerry's
mind. He was a modest man, having neither time nor inclination for
gallantries, and this was the first occasion throughout his
professional career upon which he had obtained valuable evidence on
the strength of his personal attractions. He doubted the accuracy of
his deduction. But, Mollie at that moment lowering her lashes and then
rapidly raising them again, Kerry was compelled to accept his own
astonishing theory.

"And she is the daughter of a peer!" he reflected. "No wonder it has
been hard to get evidence."

He glanced rapidly in the direction of the door. There were several
details which were by no means clear, but he decided to act upon the
information already given and to get rid of his visitor without delay.
Where some of the most dangerous criminals in Europe and America had
failed, Mollie Gretna had succeeded in making Red Kerry nervous.

"I am much indebted to you, miss," he said, and opened the door.

"Oh, it has been delightful to confess to you, Inspector!" declared
Mollie. "I will give you my card, and I shall expect you to come to me
for any further information you may want. If I have to be brought to
court, you will tell me, won't you?"

"Rely upon me, miss," replied Kerry shortly.

He escorted Mollie to her brougham, observed by no less than six
discreetly hidden neighbors. And as the brougham was driven off she
waved her hand to him! Kerry felt a hot flush spreading over his red
countenance, for the veiled onlookers had not escaped his attention.
As he re-entered the house:

"Yon's a bad woman," said his wife, emerging from the dining-room.

"I believe you may be right, Mary," replied Kerry confusedly.

"I kenned it when fairst I set een upon her painted face. I kenned it
the now when she lookit sideways at ye. If yon's a grand lady, she's a
woman o' puir repute. The Lord gi'e us grace."

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE GILDED JOSS

London was fog-bound. The threat of the past week had been no empty
one. Towards the hour of each wintry sunset had come the yellow racks,
hastening dusk and driving folks more speedily homeward to their
firesides. The dull reports of fog-signals had become a part of the
metropolitan bombilation, but hitherto the choking mist had not
secured a strangle-hold.

Now, however, it had triumphed, casting its thick net over the city as
if eager to stifle the pulsing life of the new Babylon. In the
neighborhood of the Docks its density was extraordinary, and the
purlieus of Limehouse became mere mysterious gullies of smoke
impossible to navigate unless one were very familiar with their
intricacies and dangers.

Chief Inspector Kerry, wearing a cardigan under his oilskins, tapped
the pavement with the point of his malacca like a blind man. No
glimmer of light could he perceive. He could not even see his
companion.

"Hell!" he snapped irritably, as his foot touched a brick wall, "where
the devil are you, constable?"

"Here beside you, sir," answered P.C. Bryce, of K Division, his guide.

"Which side?"

"Here, sir."

The constable grasped Kerry's arm.

"But we've walked slap into a damn brick wall!"

"Keep the wall on your left, sir, and it's all clear ahead."

"Clear be damned!" said Kerry. "Are we nearly there?"

"About a dozen paces and we shall see the lamp--if it's been lighted."

"And if not we shall stroll into the river, I suppose?"

"No danger of that. Even if the lamp's out, we shall strike the iron
pillar."

"I don't doubt it," said Kerry grimly.

They proceeded at a slow pace. Dull reports and a vague clangor were
audible. These sounds were so deadened by the clammy mist that they
might have proceeded from some gnome's workshop deep in the bowels of
the earth. The blows of a pile-driver at work on the Surrey shore
suggested to Kerry's mind the phantom crew of Hendrick Hudson at their
game of ninepins in the Katskill Mountains. Suddenly:

"Is that you, Bryce?" he asked.

"I'm here, sir," replied the voice of the constable from beside him.

"H'm, then there's someone else about." He raised his voice. "Hi,
there! have you lost your way?"

Kerry stood still, listening. But no one answered to his call.

"I'll swear there was someone just behind us, Bryce!"

"There was, sir. I saw someone, too. A Chinese resident, probably.
Here we are!"

A sound of banging became audible, and on advancing another two paces,
Kerry found himself beside Bryce before a low closed door.

"Hello! hello!" croaked a dim voice. "Number one p'lice chop, lo! Sin
Sin Wa!"

The flat note of a police whistle followed.

"Sin Sin is at home," declared Bryce. "That's the raven."

"Does he take the thing about with him, then?"

"I don't think so. But he puts it in a cupboard when he goes out, and
it never talks unless it can see a light."

Bolts were unfastened and the door was opened. Out through the moving
curtain of fog shone the red glow from a stove. A grotesque silhouette
appeared outlined upon the dim redness.

"You wantchee me?" crooned Sin Sin Wa.

"I do!" rapped Kerry. "I've called to look for opium."

He stepped past the Chinaman into the dimly lighted room. As he did
so, the cause of an apparent deformity which had characterized the
outline of Sin Sin Wa became apparent. From his left shoulder the
raven partly arose, moving his big wings, and:

"Smartest leg!" it shrieked in Kerry's ear and rattled imaginary
castanets.

The Chief Inspector started, involuntarily.

"Damn the thing!" he muttered. "Come in, Bryce, and shut the door.
What's this?"

On a tea-chest set beside the glowing stove, the little door of which
was open, stood a highly polished squat wooden image, gilded and
colored red and green. It was that of a leering Chinaman, possibly
designed to represent Buddha, and its jade eyes seemed to blink
knowingly in the dancing rays from the stove.

"Sin Sin Wa's Joss," murmured the proprietor, as Bryce closed the outer
door. "Me shinee him up; makee Joss glad. Number one piecee Joss."

Kerry turned and stared into the pock-marked smiling face. Seen in
that dim light it was not unlike the carved face of the image, save
that the latter possessed two open eyes and the Chinaman but one. The
details of the room were indiscernible, lost in yellowish shadow, but
the eye of the raven and the eye of Sin Sin Wa glittered like strange
jewels.

"H'm," said Kerry. "Sorry to interrupt your devotions. Light us."

"Allee velly proper," crooned Sin Sin Wa.

He took up the Joss tenderly and bore it across the room. Opening a
little cupboard set low down near the floor he discovered a lighted
lantern. This he took out and set upon the dirty table. Then he placed
the image on a shelf in the cupboard and turned smilingly to his
visitors.

"Number one p'lice!" shrieked the raven.

"Here!" snapped Kerry. "Put that damn thing to bed!"

"Velly good," murmured Sin Sin Wa complacently.

He raised his hand to his shoulder and the raven stepped sedately from
shoulder to wrist. Sin Sin Wa stooped.

"Come, Tling-a-Ling," he said softly. "You catchee sleepee."

The raven stepped down from his wrist and walked into the cupboard.

"So fashion, lo!" said Sin Sin Wa, closing the door.

He seated himself upon a tea-chest beside the useful cupboard, resting
his hands upon his knees and smiling.

Kerry, chewing steadily, had watched the proceedings in silence, but
now:

"Constable Bryce," he said crisply, "you recognize this man as Sin Sin
Wa, the occupier of the house?"

"Yes, sir," replied Bryce.

He was not wholly at ease, and persistently avoided the Chinaman's
oblique, beady eye.

"In the ordinary course of your duty you frequently pass along this
street?"

"It's the limit of the Limehouse beat, sir. Poplar patrols on the
other side."

"So that at this point, or hereabout, you would sometimes meet the
constable on the next beat?"

"Well, sir," Bryce hesitated, clearing his throat, "this street isn't
properly in his district."

"I didn't say it was!" snapped Kerry, glaring fiercely at the
embarrassed constable. "I said you would sometimes meet him here."

"Yes, sometimes."

"Sometimes. Right. Did you ever come in here?"

The constable ventured a swift glance at the savage red face, and:

"Yes, sir, now and then," he confessed. "Just for a warm on a cold
night, maybe."

"Allee velly welcome," murmured Sin Sin Wa.

Kerry never for a moment removed his fixed gaze from the face of
Bryce.

"Now, my lad," he said, "I'm going to ask you another question. I'm
not saying a word about the warm on a cold night. We're all human.
But--did you ever see or hear or smell anything suspicious in this
house?"

"Never," affirmed the constable earnestly.

"Did anything ever take place that suggested to your mind that Sin Sin
Wa might be concealing something--upstairs, for instance?"

"Never a thing, sir. There's never been a complaint about him."

"Allee velly proper," crooned Sin Sin Wa.

Kerry stared intently for some moments at Bryce; then, turning
suddenly to Sin Sin Wa:

"I want to see your wife," he said. "Fetch her."

Sin Sin Wa gently patted his knees.

"She velly bad woman," he declared. "She no hate topside pidgin."

"Don't talk!" shouted Kerry. "Fetch her!"

Sin Sin Wa turned his hands palms upward.

"Me no hate gotchee wifee," he murmured.

Kerry took one pace forward.

"Fetch her," he said; "or--" He drew a pair of handcuffs from the
pocket of his oilskin.

"Velly bad luck," murmured Sin Sin Wa. "Catchee trouble for wifee no
got."

He extended his wrists, meeting the angry glare of the Chief Inspector
with a smile of resignation. Kerry bit savagely at his chewing-gum,
glancing aside at Bryce.

"Did you ever see his wife?" he snapped.

"No, sir. I didn't know he had one."

"No habgotchee," murmured Sin Sin Wa, "velly bad woman."

"For the last time," said Kerry, stooping and thrusting his face
forward so that his nose was only some six inches from that of Sin Sin
Wa, "where's Mrs. Sin?"

"Catchee lun off," replied the Chinaman blandly. "Velly bad woman.
Tlief woman. Catchee stealee alla my dollars!"

"Eh!"

Kerry stood upright, moving his shoulders and rattling the handcuffs.

"Comee here when Sin Sin Wa hate gone for catchee shavee, liftee alla
my dollars, and-pff! chee-lo!"

He raised his hand and blew imaginary fluff into space. Kerry stared
down at him with an expression in which animal ferocity and
helplessness were oddly blended. Then:

"Bryce," he said, "stay here. I'm going to search the house."

"Very good, sir."

Kerry turned again to the Chinaman.

"Is there anyone upstairs?" he demanded.

"Nobody hate. Sin Sin Wa alla samee lonesome. Catchee shinum him
joss."

Kerry dropped the handcuffs back into the pocket of his overall and
took out an electric torch. With never another glance at Sin Sin Wa he
went out into the passage and began to mount the stairs, presently
finding himself in a room filled with all sorts of unsavory rubbish
and containing a large cupboard. He uttered an exclamation of triumph.

Crossing the littered floor, and picking his way amid broken cane
chairs, tea-chests, discarded garments and bedlaths, he threw open the
cupboard door. Before him hung a row of ragged clothes and a number of
bowler hats. Directing the ray of the torch upon the unsavory
collection, he snatched coats and hats from the hooks upon which they
depended and hurled them impatiently upon the floor.

When the cupboard was empty he stepped into it and began to bang upon
the back. The savagery of his expression grew more marked than usual,
and as he chewed his maxillary muscles protruded extraordinarily.

"If ever I sounded a brick wall," he muttered, "I'm doing it now."

Tap where he would--and he tapped with his knuckles and with the bone
ferrule of his cane--there was nothing in the resulting sound to
suggest that that part of the wall behind the cupboard was less solid
than any other part.

He examined the room rapidly, then passed into another one adjoining
it, which was evidently used as a bedroom. The latter faced towards
the court and did not come in contact with the wall of the neighboring
house. In both rooms the windows were fastened, and judging from the
state of the fasteners were never opened. In that containing the
cupboard outside shutters were also closed. Despite this sealing-up of
the apartments, traces of fog hung in the air. Kerry descended the
stairs.

Snapping off the light of his torch, he stood, feet wide apart,
staring at Sin Sin Wa. The latter, smiling imperturbably, yellow hands
resting upon knees, sat quite still on the tea-chest. Constable Bryce
was seated on a corner of the table, looking curiously awkward in his
tweed overcoat and bowler hat, which garments quite failed to disguise
the policeman. He stood up as Kerry entered. Then:

"There used to be a door between this house and the next," said Kerry
succinctly. "My information is exact and given by someone who has
often used that door."

"Bloody liar," murmured Sin Sin Wa.

"What!" shouted Kerry. "What did you say, you yellow-faced mongrel!"

He clenched his fists and strode towards the Chinaman.

"Sarcee feller catchee pullee leg," explained the unmoved Sin Sin Wa.
"Velly bad man tellee lie for makee bhoberry--getchee poor Chinaman in
tlouble."

In the fog-bound silence Kerry could very distinctly be heard chewing.
He turned suddenly to Bryce.

"Go back and fetch two men," he directed. "I should never find my
way."

"Very good, sir."

Bryce stepped to the door, unable to hide the relief which he
experienced, and opened it. The fog was so dense that it looked like a
yellow curtain hung in the opening.

"Phew!" said Bryce. "I may be some little time, sir."

"Quite likely. But don't stop to pick daisies."

The constable went out, closing the door. Kerry laid his cane on the
table, then stooped and tossed a cud of chewing-gum into the stove.
From his waistcoat pocket he drew out a fresh piece and placed it
between his teeth. Drawing a tea-chest closer to the stove, he seated
himself and stared intently into the glowing heart of the fire.

Sin Sin Wa extended his arm and opened the little cupboard.

"Number one p'lice," croaked the raven drowsily.

"You catchee sleepee, Tling-a-Ling," said Sin Sin Wa.

He took out the green-eyed joss, set it tenderly upon a corner of the
table, and closed the cupboard door. With a piece of chamois leather,
which he sometimes dipped into a little square tin, he began to polish
the hideous figure.

CHAPTER XXIX

DOUBTS AND FEARS

Monte Irvin raised his head and stared dully at Margaret Halley. It
was very quiet in the library of the big old-fashioned house at
Prince's Gate. A faint crackling sound which proceeded from the fire
was clearly audible. Margaret's grey eyes were anxiously watching the
man whose pose as he sat in the deep, saddle-back chair so curiously
suggested collapse.

"Drugs," he whispered. "Drugs."

Few of his City associates would have recognized the voice; all would
have been shocked to see the change which had taken place in the man.

"You really understand why I have told you, Mr. Irvin, don't you?"
said Margaret almost pleadingly. "Dr. Burton thought you should not be
told, but then Dr. Burton did not know you were going to ask me point
blank. And I thought it better that you should know the truth, bad as
it is, rather than--"

"Rather than suspect--worse things," whispered Irvin. "Of course, you
were right, Miss Halley. I am very, very grateful to you for telling
me. I realize what courage it must have called for. Believe me, I
shall always remember--"

He broke off, staring across the room at his wife's portrait. Then:

"If only I had known," he added.

Irvin exhibited greater composure than Margaret had ventured to
anticipate. She was confirmed in her opinion that he should be told
the truth.

"I would have told you long ago," she said, "if I had thought that any
good could result from my doing so. Frankly, I had hoped to cure Rita
of the habit, and I believe I might have succeeded in time."

"There has been no mention of drugs in connection with the case," said
Monte Irvin, speaking monotonously. "In the Press, I mean."

"Hitherto there has not," she replied. "But there is a hint of it in
one of this evening's papers, and I determined to give you the exact
facts so far as they are known to me before some garbled account came
to your ears."

"Thank you," he said, "thank you. I had felt for a long time that I
was getting out of touch with Rita, that she had other confidants.
Have you any idea who they were, Miss Halley?"

He raised his eyes, looking at her pathetically. Margaret hesitated,
then:

"Well," she replied, "I am afraid Nina knew."

"Her maid?"

"I think she must have known."

He sighed.

"The police have interrogated her," he said. "Probably she is being
watched."

"Oh, I don't think she knows anything about the drug syndicate,"
declared Margaret. "She merely acted as confidential messenger. Poor
Sir Lucien Pyne, I am sure, was addicted to drugs."

"Do you think"--Irvin spoke in a very low voice--"do you think he led
her into the habit?"

Margaret bit her lip, staring down at the red carpet.

"I would hate to slander a man who can never defend himself," she
replied finally. "But--I have sometimes thought he did."

Silence fell. Both were contemplating a theory which neither dared to
express in words.

"You see," continued Margaret, "it is evident that this man Kazmah was
patronized by people so highly placed that it is hopeless to look for
information from them. Again, such people have influence. I don't
suggest that they are using it to protect Kazmah, but I have no doubt
they are doing so to protect themselves."

Monte Irvin raised his eyes to her face. A weary, sad look had come
into them.

"You mean that it may be to somebody's interest to hush up the matter
as much as possible?"

Margaret nodded her head.

"The prevalence of the drug habit in society--especially in London
society--is a secret which has remained hidden so long from the
general public," she replied, "that one cannot help looking for
bribery and corruption. The stage is made the scapegoat whenever the
voice of scandal breathes the word 'dope,' but we rarely hear the
names of the worst offenders even whispered. I have thought for a long
time that the authorities must know the names of the receivers and
distributors of cocaine, veronal, opium, and the other drugs, huge
quantities of which find their way regularly to the West End of
London. Pharmacists sometimes experience the greatest difficulty in
obtaining the drugs which they legitimately require, and the prices
have increased extraordinarily. Cocaine, for instance, has gone up
from five and sixpence an ounce to eighty-seven shillings, and heroin
from three and sixpence to over forty shillings, while opium that was
once about twenty shillings a pound is now eight times the price."

Monte Irvin listened attentively.

"In the course of my Guildhall duties," he said slowly, "I have been
brought in contact frequently with police officers of all ranks. If
influential people are really at work protecting these villains who
deal illicitly in drugs, I don't think, and I am not prepared to
believe, that they have corrupted the police."

"Neither do I believe so, Mr. Irvin!" said Margaret eagerly.

"But," Irvin pursued, exhibiting greater animation, "you inform me
that a Home office commissioner has been appointed. What does this
mean, if not that Lord Wrexborough distrusts the police?"

"Well, you see, the police seemed to be unable, or unwilling, to do
anything in the matter. Of course, this may have been due to the fact
that the traffic was so skilfully handled that it defied their
inquiries."

"Take, as an instance, Chief Inspector Kerry," continued Irvin. "He
has exhibited the utmost delicacy and consideration in his dealings
with me, but I'll swear that a whiter man never breathed."

"Oh, really, Mr. Irvin, I don't think for a moment that men of that
class are suspected of being concerned. Indeed, I don't believe any
active collusion is suspected at all."

"Lord Wrexborough thinks that Scotland Yard hasn't got an officer
clever enough for the dope people?"

"Quite possibly."

"I take it that he has put up a secret service man?"

"I believe--that is, I know he has."

Monte Irvin was watching Margaret's face, and despite the dull misery
which deadened his usually quick perceptions, he detected a heightened
color and a faint change of expression. He did not question her
further upon the point, but:

"God knows I welcome all the help that offers," he said. "Lord
Wrexborough is your uncle, Miss Halley; but do you think this secret
commission business quite fair to Scotland Yard?"

Margaret stared for some moments at the carpet, then raised her grey
eyes and looked earnestly at the speaker. She had learned in the brief
time that had elapsed since this black sorrow had come upon him to
understand what it was in the character of Monte Irvin which had
attracted Rita. It afforded an illustration of that obscure law
governing the magnetism which subsists between diverse natures. For
not all the agony of mind which he suffered could hide or mar the
cleanness and honesty of purpose which were Monte Irvin's outstanding
qualities.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21