Dope

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George did not disembark at the stone steps, but after waiting there
for some time he began to drop down on the tide, keeping close
inshore.

"He knows we've spotted him," said Sergeant Coombes, who was in one of
the River Police boats. "It was at the stairs that he had to pick up
his man."

Certainly, the tactics of George suggested that he had recognized
surveillance, and, his purpose abandoned, now sought to efface himself
without delay. Taking advantage of every shadow, he resigned his boat
to the gentle current. He had actually come to the entrance of
Greenwich Reach when a dock light, shining out across the river,
outlined the boat yellowly.

"He's got a passenger!" said Coombes amazedly.

Inspector White, who was in charge of the cutter, rested his arm on
Coombes' shoulder and stared across the moving tide.

"I can see no one," he replied. "You're over anxious, Detective-
Sergeant--and I can understand it!"

Coombes smiled heroically.

"I may be over anxious, Inspector," he replied, "but if I lost Sin Sin
Wa, the River Police had never even heard of him till the C.I.D. put
'em wise."

"H'm!" muttered the Inspector. "D'you suggest we board him?"

"No," said Coombes, "let him land, but don't trouble to hide any more.
Show him we're in pursuit."

No longer drifting with the outgoing tide, George Martin had now
boldly taken to the oars. The River Police boat close in his wake, he
headed for the blunt promontory of the Isle of Dogs. The grim pursuit
went on until:

"I bet I know where he's for," said Coombes.

"So do I," declared Inspector White; "Dougal's!"

Their anticipations were realized. To the wooden stairs which served
as a water-gate for the establishment on the Isle of Dogs, George
Martin ran in openly; the police boat followed, and:

"You were right!" cried the Inspector, "he has somebody with him!"

A furtive figure, bearing a burden upon its shoulder, moved up the
slope and disappeared. A moment later the police were leaping ashore.
George deserted his boat and went running heavily after his passenger.

"After them!" cried Coombes. "That's Sin Sin Wa!"

Around the mazey, rubbish-strewn paths the pursuit went hotly. In
sight of Dougal's Coombes saw the swing door open and a silhouette--
that of a man who carried a bag on his shoulder--pass in. George
Martin followed, but the Scotland Yard man had his hand upon his
shoulder.

"Police!" he said sharply. "Who's your friend?"

George turned, red and truculent, with clenched fists.

"Mind your own bloody business!" he roared.

"Mind yours, my lad!" retorted Coombes warningly. "You're no Thames
waterman. Who's your friend?"

"Wotcher mean?" shouted George. "You're up the pole or canned you
are!"

"Grab him!" said Coombes, and he kicked open the door and entered the
saloon, followed by Inspector White and the boat's crew.

As they appeared, the Inspector conspicuous in his uniform, backed by
the group of River Police, one of whom grasped George Martin by his
coat collar:

"Splits!" bellowed Dougal in a voice like a fog-horn.

Twenty cups of tea, coffee and cocoa, too hot for speedy assimilation,
were spilled upon the floor.

The place as usual was crowded, more particularly in the neighborhood
of the two stoves. Here were dock laborers, seamen and riverside
loafers, lascars, Chinese, Arabs, negroes and dagoes. Mrs. Dougal,
defiant and red, brawny arms folded and her pose as that of one
contemplating a physical contest, glared from behind the "solid"
counter. Dougal rested his hairy hands upon the "wet" counter and
revealed his defective teeth in a vicious snarl. Many of the patrons
carried light baggage, since a P and O boat, an oriental, and the S.
S. Mahratta, were sailing that night or in the early morning, and
Dougal's was the favorite house of call for a doch-an-dorrich for
sailormen, particularly for sailormen of color.

Upon the police group became focussed the glances of light eyes and
dark eyes, round eyes, almond-shaped eyes, and oblique eyes. Silence
fell.

"We are police officers," called Coombes formally. "All papers,
please."

Thereupon, without disturbance, the inspection began, and among the
papers scrutinized were those of one, Chung Chow, an able-bodied
Chinese seaman. But since his papers were in order, and since he
possessed two eyes and wore no pigtail, he excited no more interest in
the mind of Detective-Sergeant Coombes than did any one of the other
Chinamen in the place.

A careful search of the premises led to no better result, and George
Martin accounted for his possession of a considerable sum of money
found upon him by explaining that he had recently been paid off after
a long voyage and had been lucky at cards.

The result of the night's traffic, then, spelled failure for British
justice, the S.S. Mahratta sailed one stewardess short of her
complement; but among the Chinese crew of another steamer Eastward
bound was one, Chung Chow, formerly known as Sin Sin Wa. And sometimes
in the night watches there arose before him the picture of a black
bird resting upon the knees of an aged Chinaman. Beyond these figures
dimly he perceived the paddy-fields of Ho-Nan and the sweeping valley
of the Yellow River, where the opium poppy grows.

It was about an hour before the sailing of the ship which numbered
Chung Chow among the yellow members of its crew that Seton Pasha
returned once more to the deserted wharf whereon he had found Mrs.
Monte Irvin's spaniel. Afterwards, in the light of ascertained facts,
he condemned himself for a stupidity passing the ordinary. For while
he had conducted a careful search of the wharf and adjoining premises,
convinced that there was a cellar of some kind below, he had omitted
to look for a water-gate to this hypothetical cache.

Perhaps his self-condemnation was deserved, but in justice to the
agent selected by Lord Wrexborough, it should be added that Chief
Inspector Kerry had no more idea of the existence of such an entrance,
and exit, than had Seton Pasha.

Leaving the dog at Leman Street then, and learning that there was no
news of the missing Chief Inspector, Seton had set out once more. He
had been informed of the mysterious signals flashed from side to side
of the Lower Pool, and was hourly expecting a report to the effect
that Sin Sin Wa had been apprehended in the act of escaping. That Sin
Sin Wa had dropped into the turgid tide from his underground hiding-
place, and pushing his property--which was floatable--before him,
encased in a waterproof bag, had swum out and clung to the stern of
George Martin's boat as it passed close to the empty wharf, neither
Seton Pasha nor any other man knew--except George Martin and Sin Sin
Wa.

At a suitably dark spot the Chinaman had boarded the little craft, not
without difficulty, for his wounded shoulder pained him, and had
changed his sodden attire for a dry outfit which awaited him in the
locker at the stern of the skiff. The cunning of the Chinese has the
simplicity of true genius.

Not two paces had Seton taken on to the mystifying wharf when:

"Sam Tuk barber! Entrance in cellar!" rapped a ghostly, muffled voice
from beneath his feet. "Sam Tuk barber! Entrance in cellar!"

Seton Pasha stood still, temporarily bereft of speech. Then, "Kerry!"
he cried. "Kerry! Where are you?"

But apparently his voice failed to reach the invisible speaker, for:

"Sam Tuk barber! Entrance in cellar!" repeated the voice.

Seton Pasha wasted no more time. He ran out into the narrow street. A
man was on duty there.

"Call assistance!" ordered Seton briskly, "Send four men to join me at
the barber's shop called Sam Tuk's! You know it?"

"Yes, sir; I searched it with Chief Inspector Kerry."

The note of a police whistle followed.

Ten minutes later the secret of Sam Tuk's cellar was unmasked. The
place was empty, and the subterranean door locked; but it succumbed to
the persistent attacks of axe and crowbar, and Seton Pasha was the
first of the party to enter the vault. It was laden with chemical
fumes. . . .

He found there an aged Chinaman, dead, seated by a stove in which the
fire had burned very low. Sprawling across the old man's knees was the
body of a raven. Lying at his feet was a woman, lithe, contorted, the
face half hidden in masses of bright red hair.

"End case near the door!" rapped the voice of Kerry. "Slides to the
left!"

Seton Pasha vaulted over the counter, drew the shelves aside, and
entered the inner room.

By the dim light of a lantern burning upon a moorish coffee-table he
discerned an untidy bed, upon which a second woman lay, pallid.

"God!" he muttered; "this place is a morgue!"

"It certainly isn't healthy!" said an irritable voice from the floor.
"But I think I might survive it if you could spare a second to untie
me."

Kerry's extensive practice in chewing and the enormous development of
his maxillary muscles had stood him in good stead. His keen, strong
teeth had bitten through the extemporized gag, and as a result the
tension of the handkerchief which had held it in place had become
relaxed, enabling him to rid himself of it and to spit out the
fragments of filthy-tasting wood which the biting operation had left
in his mouth.

Seton turned, stooped on one knee to release the captive . . . and
found himself looking into the face of someone who sat crouched upon
the divan behind the Chief Inspector. The figure was that of an
oriental, richly robed. Long, slim, ivory hands rested upon his knees,
and on the first finger of the right hand gleamed a big talismanic
ring. But the face, surmounted by a white turban, was wonderful,
arresting in its immobile intellectual beauty; and from under the
heavy brows a pair of abnormally large eyes looked out hypnotically.

"My God!" whispered Seton, then:

"If you've finished your short prayer," rapped Kerry, "set about my
little job."

"But, Kerry--Kerry, behind you!"

"I haven't any eyes in my back hair!"

Mechanically, half fearfully, Seton touched the hands of the crouching
oriental. A low moan came from the woman in the bed, and:

"It's Kazmah!" gasped Seton. "Kerry . . . Kazmah is--a wax figure!"

"Hell!" said Chief Inspector Kerry.

CHAPTER XLII

A YEAR LATER

Beneath an awning spread above the balcony of one of those modern
elegant flats, which today characterize Heliopolis, the City of the
Sun, site of perhaps the most ancient seat of learning in the known
world, a party of four was gathered, awaiting the unique spectacle
which is afforded when the sun's dying rays fade from the Libyan sands
and the violet wonder of the afterglow conjures up old magical Egypt
from the ashes of the desert.

"Yes," Monte Irvin was saying, "only a year ago; but, thank God, it
seems more like ten! Merciful time effaces sadness but spares joy."

He turned to his wife, whose flower-like face peeped out from a nest
of white fur. Covertly he squeezed her hand, and was rewarded with a
swift, half coquettish glance, in which he read trust and contentment.
The dreadful ordeal through which she had passed had accomplished that
which no physician in Europe could have hoped for, since no physician
would have dared to adopt such drastic measures. Actuated by
deliberate cruelty, and with the design of bringing about her death
from apparently natural causes, the Kazmah group had deprived her of
cocaine for so long a period that sanity, life itself, had barely
survived; but for so long a period that, surviving, she had outlived
the drug craving. Kazmah had cured her!

Monte Irvin turned to the tall fair girl who sat upon the arm of a
cane rest-chair beside Rita.

"But nothing can ever efface the memory of all you have done for Rita,
and for me," he said, "nothing, Mrs. Seton."

"Oh," said Margaret, "my mind was away back, and that sounded--so
odd."

Seton Pasha, who occupied the lounge-chair upon the broad arm of which
his wife was seated, looked up, smiling into the suddenly flushed
face. They were but newly returned from their honeymoon, and had just
taken possession of their home, for Seton was now stationed in Cairo.
He flicked a cone of ash from his cheroot.

"It seems to me that we are all more or less indebted to one another,"
he declared. "For instance, I might never have met you, Margaret, if I
had not run into your cousin that eventful night at Princes; and Gray
would not have been gazing abstractedly out of the doorway if Mrs.
Irvin had joined him for dinner as arranged. One can trace almost
every episode in life right back, and ultimately come--"

"To Kismet!" cried his wife, laughing merrily. "So before we begin
dinner tonight--which is a night of reunion--I am going to propose a
toast to Kismet!"

"Good!" said Seton, "we shall all drink it gladly. Eh, Irvin?"

"Gladly, indeed," agreed Monte Irvin. "You know, Seton," he continued,
"we have been wandering, Rita and I; and ever since your wife handed
her patient over to me as cured we have covered some territory. I
don't know if you or Chief Inspector Kerry has been responsible, but
the press accounts of the Kazmah affair have been scanty to baldness.
One stray bit of news reached us--in Colorado, I think."

"What was that, Mr. Irvin?" asked Margaret, leaning towards the
speaker.

"It was about Mollie Gretna. Someone wrote and told me that she had
eloped with a billiard marker--a married man with five children!"

Seton laughed heartily, and so did Margaret and Rita.

"Right!" cried Seton. "She did. When last heard of she was acting as
barmaid in a Portsmouth tavern!"

But Monte Irvin did not laugh.

"Poor, foolish girl!" he said gravely. "Her life might have been so
different--so useful and happy."

"I agree," replied Seton, "if she had had a husband like Kerry."

"Oh, please don't!" said Margaret. "I almost fell in love with Chief
Inspector Kerry myself."

"A grand fellow!" declared her husband warmly. "The Kazmah inquiry was
the triumph of his career."

Monte Irvin turned to him.

"You did your bit, Seton," he said quietly. "The last words Inspector
Kerry spoke to me before I left England were in the nature of a
splendid tribute to yourself, but I will spare your blushes."

"Kerry is as white as they're made," replied Seton, "but we should
never have known for certain who killed Sir Lucien if he had not
risked his life in that filthy cellar as he did."

Rita Irvin shuddered slightly and drew her furs more closely about her
shoulders.

"Shall we change the conversation, dear?" whispered Margaret.

"No, please," said Rita. "You cannot imagine how curious I am to learn
the true details--for, as Monte says, we have been out of touch with
things, and although we were so intimately concerned, neither of us
really knows the inner history of the affair to this day. Of course,
we know that Kazmah was a dummy figure, posed in the big ebony chair.
He never moved, except to raise his hand, and this was done by someone
seated in the inner room behind the figure. But who was seated there?"

Seton glanced inquiringly at his wife, and she nodded, smiling.

"Right-o!" he said. "If you will excuse me for a moment I will get my
notes. Hello, here's Gray!"

A little two-seater came bowling along the road from Cairo, and drew
up beneath the balcony. It was the car which had belonged to Margaret
when in practice in Dover Street. Quentin Gray jumped out, waving his
hand cheerily to the quartette above, and went in at the doorway.
Seton walked through the flat and admitted him.

"Sorry I'm late!" cried Gray, impetuous and boyish as ever, although
he looked older and had grown very bronzed. "The chief detained me."

"Go through to them," said Seton informally. "I'm getting my notes;
we're going to read the thrilling story of the Kazmah mystery before
dinner."

"Good enough!" cried Gray. "I'm in the dark on many points."

He had outlived his youthful infatuation, although it was probable
enough that had Rita been free he would have presented himself as a
suitor without delay. But the old relationship he had no desire to
renew. A generous self-effacing regard had supplanted the madness of
his earlier passion. Rita had changed too; she had learned to know
herself and to know her husband.

So that when Seton Pasha presently rejoined his guests, he found the
most complete harmony to prevail among them. He carried a bulky
notebook, and, tapping his teeth with his monocle:

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began whimsically, "I will bore you with a
brief account of the extraordinary facts concerning the Kazmah case."

Margaret was seated in the rest-chair which her husband had vacated,
and Seton took up a position upon the ledge formed by one of the wide
arms. Everyone prepared to listen, with interest undisguised.

"There were three outstanding personalities dominating what we may
term the Kazmah group," continued Seton. "In order of importance they
were: Sin Sin Wa, Sir Lucien Pyne and Mrs. Sin."

Rita Irvin inhaled deeply, but did not interrupt the speaker.

"I shall begin with Sir Lucien," Seton went on. "For some years before
his father's death he seems to have lived a very shady life in many
parts of the world. He was a confirmed gambler, and was also somewhat
unduly fond of the ladies' society. In Buenos Ayres--the exact date
does not matter--he made the acquaintance of a variety artiste known
as La Belle Lola, a Cuban-Jewess, good-looking and unscrupulous. I
cannot say if Sir Lucien was aware from the outset of his affair with
La Belle that she was a married woman. But it is certain that her
husband, Sin Sin Wa, very early learned of the intrigue, and condoned
it.

"How Sir Lucien came to get into the clutches of the pair I do not
know. But that he did so we have ascertained beyond doubt. I think,
personally, that his third vice--opium--was probably responsible. For
Sin Sin Wa appears throughout in the character of a drug dealer.

"These three people really become interesting from the time that La
Belle Lola quitted the stage and joined her husband in the conducting
of a concern in Buenos Ayres, which was the parent, if I may use the
term, of the Kazmah business later established in Bond Street. From a
music-hall illusionist, who came to grief during a South American
tour, they acquired the oriental waxwork figure which subsequently
mystified so many thousands of dupes. It was the work of a famous
French artist in wax, and had originally been made to represent the
Pharaoh, Rameses II., for a Paris exhibition. Attired in Eastern
robes, and worked by a simple device which raised and lowered the
right hand, it was used, firstly, in a stage performance, and
secondly, in the character of 'Kazmah the Dream-reader.'

"Even at this time Sir Lucien had access to good society, or to the
best society which Buenos Ayres could offer, and he was the source of
the surprising revelations made to patrons by the 'dream-reader.' At
first, apparently, the drug business was conducted independently of
the Kazmah concern, but the facilities offered by the latter for
masking the former soon became apparent to the wily Sin Sin Wa.
Thereupon the affair was reorganized on the lines later adopted in
Bond Street. Kazmah's became a secret dope-shop, and annexed to it was
an elaborate chandu-khan, conducted by the Chinaman. Mrs. Sin was the
go-between.

"You are all waiting to hear--or, to be exact, two are waiting to
hear, Gray and Margaret already know--who spoke as Kazmah through the
little window behind the chair. The deep-voiced speaker was Juan
Mareno, Mrs. Sin's brother! Mrs. Sin's maiden name was Lola Mareno.

"Many of these details were provided by Mareno, who, after the death
of his sister, to whom he was deeply attached, volunteered to give
crown evidence. Most of them we have confirmed from other sources.

"Behold 'Kazmah the dream-reader,' then, established in Buenos Ayres.
The partners in the enterprise speedily acquired considerable wealth.
Sir Lucien--at this time plain Mr. Pyne--several times came home and
lived in London and elsewhere like a millionaire. There is no doubt, I
think, that he was seeking a suitable opportunity to establish a
London branch of the business."

"My God!" said Monte Irvin. "How horrible it seems!"

"Horrible, indeed!" agreed Seton. "But there are two features of the
case which, in justice to Sir Lucien, we should not overlook. He, who
had been a poor man, had become a wealthy one and had tasted the
sweets of wealth; also he was now hopelessly in the toils of the woman
Lola.

"With the ingenious financial details of the concern, which were
conducted in the style of the 'Jose Santos Company,' I need not
trouble you now. We come to the second period, when the flat in
Albemarle Street and the two offices in old Bond Street became vacant
and were promptly leased by Mareno, acting on Sir Lucien's behalf, and
calling himself sometimes Mr. Isaacs, sometimes Mr. Jacobs, and at
other times merely posing as a representative of the Jose Santos
Company in some other name.

"All went well. The concern had ample capital, and was organized by
clever people. Sin Sin Wa took up new quarters in Limehouse; they had
actually bought half the houses in one entire street as well as a
wharf! And Sin Sin Wa brought with him the good-will of an illicit
drug business which already had almost assumed the dimensions of a
control.

"Sir Lucien's household was a mere bluff. He rarely entertained at
home, and lived himself entirely at restaurants and clubs. The private
entrance to the Kazmah house of business was the back window of the
Cubanis Cigarette Company's office. From thence down the back stair to
Kazmah's door it was a simple matter for Mareno to pass unobserved.
Sir Lucien resumed his role of private inquiry agent, and Mareno
recited the 'revelations' from notes supplied to him.

"But the 'dream reading' part of the business was merely carried on to
mask the really profitable side of the concern. We have recently
learned that drugs were distributed from that one office alone to the
amount of thirty thousand pounds' worth annually! This is excluding
the profits of the House of a Hundred Raptures and of the private
chandu orgies organized by Mrs. Sin.

"The Kazmah group gradually acquired control of the entire market, and
we know for a fact that at one period during the war they were
actually supplying smuggled cocaine, indirectly, to no fewer than
twelve R.A.M.C. hospitals! The complete ramifications of the system we
shall never know.

"I come, now, to the tragedy, or series of tragedies, which brought
about the collapse of the most ingenious criminal organization which
has ever flourished, probably, in any community. I will dare to be
frank. Sir Lucien was the victim of a woman's jealousy. Am I to
proceed?"

Seton paused, glancing at his audience; and:

"If you please," whispered Rita. "Monte knows and I know--why--she
killed him. But we don't know--"

"The nasty details," said Quentin Gray. "Carry on, Seton. Are you
agreeable, Irvin?"

"I am anxious to know," replied Irvin, "for I believe Sir Lucien
deserved well of me, bad as he was."

Seton clapped his hands, and an Egyptian servant appeared, silently
and mysteriously as is the way of his class.

"Cocktails, Mahmoud!"

The Egyptian disappeared.

"There's just time," declared Margaret, gazing out across the
prospect, "before sunset."

CHAPTER XLIII

THE STORY OF THE CRIME

"You are all aware," Seton continued, "that Sir Lucien Pyne was an
admirer of Mrs. Irvin. God knows, I hold no brief for the man, but
this love of his was the one redeeming feature of a bad life. How and
when it began I don't profess to know, but it became the only pure
thing which he possessed. That he was instrumental in introducing you,
Mrs. Irvin, to the unfortunately prevalent drug habit, you will not
deny; but that he afterwards tried sincerely to redeem you from it I
can positively affirm. In seeking your redemption he found his own,
for I know that he was engaged at the time of his death in extricating
himself from the group. You may say that he had made a fortune, and
was satisfied; that is your view, Gray. I prefer to think that he was
anxious to begin a new life and to make himself more worthy of the
respect of those he loved.

"There was one obstacle which proved too great for him--Mrs. Sin.
Although Juan Mareno was the spokesman of the group, Lola Mareno was
the prompter. All Sir Lucien's plans for weaning Mrs. Irvin from the
habits which she had acquired were deliberately and malignantly foiled
by this woman. She endeavored to inveigle Mrs. Irvin into indebtedness
to you, Gray, as you know now. Failing in this, she endeavored to kill
her by depriving her of that which had at the time become practically
indispensable. A venomous jealousy led her to almost suicidal
measures. She risked exposure and ruin in her endeavors to dispose of
one whom she looked upon as a rival.

"During Sir Lucien's several absences from London she was particularly
active, and this brings me to the closing scene of the drama. On the
night that you determined, in desperation, Mrs. Irvin, to see Kazmah
personally, you will recall that Sir Lucien went out to telephone to
him?"

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