Opening the canvas wrappings, the man began to take out and place upon
the counter a number of reddish balls of "leaf" opium, varying in
weight from about eight ounces to a pound or more.
"H'm!" murmured Sin Sin Wa. "Smyrna stuff."
From a pocket of his pea-jacket he drew a long bodkin, and taking up
one of the largest balls he thrust the bodkin in and then withdrew it,
the steel stained a coffee color. Sin Sin Wa smelled and tasted the
substance adhering to the bodkin, weighed the ball reflectively in his
yellow palm, and then set it aside. He took up a second, whereupon:
"'Alf a mo', guvnor!" cried the seaman furiously. "D'you think I'm
going to wait 'ere while you prods about in all the blasted lot? It's
damn near high tide--I shan't get out. 'Alf time! Savvy? Shove it on
the scales!"
Sin Sin Wa shook his head.
"Too muchee slick. Too muchee bhobbery," he murmured. "Sin Sin Wa
gotchee sabby what him catchee buy or no pidgin."
"What's the game?" inquired George menacingly. "Don't you know a cake
o' Smyrna when you smells it?"
"No sabby lead chop till ploddem withee dipper," explained the
Chinaman, imperturbably.
"Lead!" shouted the man. "There ain't no bloody lead in 'em!"
"H'm," murmured Sin Sin Wa smilingly.
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