CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHANG LI
Not without some grumbling as to waste of time and interference withbusiness, the Pilmansey brothers led the way to a side door whichopened into a passage that ran along the side of the shop and fromwhence a staircase rose to the upper regions of the house. The elderpointed, significantly, to the street door at the end.
"You'll take notice that these young fellows I told you of get to therooms we let them through that?" he observed. "That door's alwayslocked--they all have latch-keys to it. They never come through theshop--we've nothing to do with them, and we don't know anything aboutwhatever they may do in their rooms--all we're concerned with is thatthey pay their rent and behave themselves. And quiet enough they'vealways been--we've had no reason to complain."
"And, as they all have latch-keys, I suppose they can get into theplace at any hour of the day--or night?" suggested the Inspector."There's no bar against them coming here at night?"
"They can come in--and go out--whenever they please," answered theelder man. "I tell you we've nothing to do with them--except as theirlandlords."
"Where do you live--yourselves?" asked the Inspector. "On thesepremises?"
"No, we don't," replied the younger brother, who, of the two, hadshowed the keenest, if most silent, resentment at the policeproceedings. "We live--elsewhere. This establishment is opened at eightin the morning, and closed at seven in the evening. We're never hereafter seven--either of us."
"So that you never see anything of these foreigners at night-time?"asked the Inspector. "Don't know what they do, I suppose?"
"We never see anything of 'em at any time," said the elder brother. "Asyou see, this passage and staircase is outside the shop. We knownothing whatever about them beyond what I've told you."
"Well--take us up, and we'll see what we can find out," commanded theInspector. "We're going to examine those rooms, Mr. Pilmansey, so we'llget it done at once."
The intervening rooms between the lower and the top floors of the oldhouse appeared to be given up to stores--the open doors revealed casks,cases, barrels, piles of biscuit and confectionery boxes--nothing toconceal there, decided the lynx-eyed men who trooped up the dingystairs after the grumbling proprietors. But the door on the top floorwas closed--and when Ayscough turned its handle he found it to belocked from within.
"They've keys of their own for that, too," remarked the youngerPilmansey. "I don't see how you're going to get in, if there's nobodyinside."
"We're going in there whether there's anybody or not," said theInspector. "Knock, Ayscough!--knock loudly!"
The group of men gathered behind the leaders, and filling the whole ofthe lobby outside the closed door, waited, expectant and excited, inthe silence which followed on Ayscough's loud beating on the upperpanel. A couple of minutes went by: the detective knocked again, moreinsistently. And suddenly, and silently, the door was opened--first, aninch or two, then a little wider, and as Ayscough slipped a stoutlybooted foot inside the crack a yellow face, lighted by a pair ofnarrow-slitted dark eyes, looked out--and immediately vanished.
"In with you!" said the Inspector. "Careful, now!"
Ayscough pushed the door open and walked in, the rest crowding on hisheels. And Purdie, who was one of the foremost to enter, wasimmediately cognizant of two distinct odours--one, the scent offragrant tea, the other of a certain heavy, narcotic something whichpresently overpowered the fragrance of the tea and left an acid andbitter taste.
"Opium," he whispered to Lauriston, who was close at his elbow. "Opium!Smell it?"
But Lauriston was more eyes than nose just then. He, like the rest ofhis companions, was staring at the scene on which they had entered. Theroom was of a good size--evidently, from its sloping ceilings, part ofthe attic story of the old house. The walls were hung with soft,clinging, Oriental draperies and curtains; a few easy chairs ofwickerwork, a few small tables of like make, were disposed here andthere: there was an abundance of rugs and cushions: in one corner agas-stove was alight, and on it stood a kettle, singing merrily.
The young man who had opened the door had retreated towards this stove;Purdie noticed that in one hand he held a small tea-pot. And in theleft-hand corner, bent over a little table, and absorbed in their game,sat two other young men, correctly attired in English clothes, butobviously Chinese from their eyebrows to their toes, playing chess.
The holder of the tea-pot cast a quick glance at the disturbance ofthis peaceful scene, and set down his tea-pot; the chess-players lookedup for one second, showed not the faintest sign of perturbation--andlooked down again. Then the man of the tea-pot spoke--one word.
"Yes?" he said.
"The fact is, Mister," said the elder Pilmansey, "these arepolice-officers. They want one of your friends--Mr. Chang Li."
The three occupants of the room appeared to pay no attention. Thechess-players went on playing; the other man reached for a canister,and mechanically emptied tea out of it into his pot.
"Shut and lock that door, Ayscough," said the Inspector. "Let somebodystand by it. Now," he continued, turning to the three Chinese, "is oneof you gentlemen Mr. Chang Li?"
"No!" replied one of the chess-players. "Not one of us!"
"Is he here?" demanded the Inspector. Then seeing that he was to be metby Oriental impassivity, he turned to the Pilmanseys. "What other roomsare there here?" he asked.
"Two," answered the elder brother, pointing to the curtains at the rearof the room. "One there--the other there. Behind those hangings--twosmaller rooms."
The Inspector strode forward and tore the curtains aside. He flung openthe first of the doors--and started back, catching his breath.
"Phew!" he said.
The heavy, narcotic odour which Purdie had noticed at once on enteringthe rooms came afresh, out of the newly-opened door, in a thick wave.And as the rest of them crowded after the Inspector, they saw why. Thiswas a small room, hung like the first one with curiously-figuredcurtains, and lighted only by a sky-light, over which a square of bluestuff had been draped. In the subdued life they saw that there wasnothing in that room but a lounge well fitted with soft cushions andpillows--and on it, his spare figure wrapped in a loose gown, lay ayoung Chinaman, who, as the foremost advanced upon him, blinked intheir wondering faces out of eyes the pupils of which were stillcontracted. Near him lay an opium pipe--close by, on a tiny stand, thematerials for more consumption of the drug.
The man who had accompanied the Inspector in his entrance to thetea-shop strode forward and seized the recumbent figure by theshoulder, shaking him gently.
"Now then!" he said, sharply, "wake up, my man! Are you Chang Li?"
The glazed eyes lifted themselves a little wonderingly; the dry lipsmoved.
"Yes," he muttered. "Chang Li--yes. You want me?"
"How long have you been here?" demanded the questioner.
"How long--yes? Oh--I don't know. What do you want?" asked Chang Li. "Idon't know you."
The tea-maker thrust his head inside the room.
"He can't tell you anything," he said, with a grin. "He has been--whatyou call on the break-out--with opium--ever so many days. Hehas--attacks that way. Takes a fit of it--just as some of your peopletake to the drink. He's coming out of it, now--and he'll be very, veryunhappy tomorrow."
The Inspector twisted round on the informant.
"Look here!" he said. "Do you know how long he's been here--stupifyinghimself? Is it a day--or days?"
One of the chess-players lifted a stolid face.
"He has been here--like that--several days," he said. "It's uselesstrying to do anything with him when he takes the fit--the craving, youunderstand?--into his head. If you want any information out of him,you'd better call again in a few hours."
"Do you mean to tell me he's been here--like that--several days?"demanded the Inspector.
The young man with the tea-pot grinned again.
"He's never been at a class at the medical school since the 17th," heannounced. "I know
that--he's in some classes with me. He's beenhere--all the time since then."
The Inspector turned sharply on Ayscough.
"The 17th!" he exclaimed. "And that affair was on the 18th! Then--"
Chang Li was fumbling in a pocket of his gown. He found somethingthere, raised a hand to his lips, swallowed something. And in a fewseconds, as his eyes grew brighter, he turned a suspicious and sullenglance on the group which stood watching him.
"What do you want?" he growled. "Who are you?"
"We want some information from you," said the Inspector. "When did youlast see your brother, or friend, or whatever he is--Chen Li?"
Chang Li shook his head--it was obvious that he had no clearrecollection.
"Don't know," he answered. "Perhaps just now--perhaps tomorrow--perhapsnot for a long time."
"When were you last at home--in Maida Vale?" asked the Inspector.
But Chang Li gave no answer to that beyond a frown, and it was evidentthat as his wits cleared his temper was becoming ugly. He began to lookround with more intelligence, scanning one face after another withgrowing dislike, and presently he muttered certain observations tohimself which, though not in English, sounded anything butcomplimentary to those who watched him. And Ayscough suddenly turned tothe superior officials.
"If this man's been here ever since the 17th," he said, "he can't havehad anything to do with the affairs in Praed Street and Maida Vale!Supposing, now--I'm only supposing--that young Jap's been lying all thetime?" He turned again--this time on the two chess-players, who had nowinterrupted their game and were leaning back in their chairs, evidentlyamused at the baffled faces of the searchers. "Here!" he said, "do youknow one Yada--Mori Yada--a Japanese? Is he one of you?"
"Oh, yes!" answered one of the chess-players. "Yada,--yes! We knowhim--a very smart fellow, Yada. You know him--too?"
But before Ayscough could reply to this somewhat vexatious question, aman who had been left in the tearooms came hurrying up the staircaseand burst in upon them. He made straight for the Inspector.
"Man from the office, sir, outside in a taxi!" he exclaimedbreathlessly. "You're on the wrong track--you're to get to Multenius'sshop in Praed Street at once. The real man's there!"
The Orange-Yellow Diamond Page 37