Kerry's fierce eyes moved right and left; his jaws worked
automatically. Sam Tuk sat motionless, his hands concealed in his
sleeves, bending decrepitly forward in his chair. Then:
"Hi! Guy Fawkes!" rapped Kerry, striding forward. "Who's been letting
off fire-works?"
Sam Tuk nodded senilely, but spoke not a word.
Kerry stooped and stared into the heart of the fire. A dense coat of
white ash lay upon the embers. He grasped the shoulder of the aged
Chinaman, and pushed him back so that he could look into the bleared
eyes behind the owlish spectacles.
"Been cleaning up the 'evidence,' eh?" he shouted. "This joint stinks
of opium and a score of other dopes. Where are the gang?" He shook the
yielding, ancient frame. "Where's the smart with one eye?"
But Sam Tuk merely nodded, and as Kerry released his hold sank
forward again, nodding incessantly.
"H'm, you're a hard case," said the Chief Inspector. "A couple of
witnesses like you and the jury would retire to Bedlam!"
He stood glaring fiercely at the limp frame of the old Chinaman, and
as he glared his expression changed. Lying on the dirty floor not a
yard from Sam Tuk's feet was a ball of leaf opium!
"Ha!" exclaimed Kerry, and he stooped to pick it up.
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