The hooting of a steam siren on the river seemed to be in
harmony with the prevailing gloom, and the most confirmed optimist
must have suffered depression amid those surroundings.
He had no definite plan of action. Every line of inquiry hitherto
followed had led to nothing but disappointment. With most of the
details concerning the elaborate organization of the Kazmah group
either gathered or in sight, the whereabouts of the surviving members
remained a profound mystery. From the Chinese no information could be
obtained. Distrust of the police resides deep within the Chinese
heart; for the Chinaman, and not unjustly, regards the police as ever
ready to accuse him and ever unwilling to defend him; knows himself
for a pariah capable of the worst crimes, and who may therefore be
robbed, beaten and even murdered by his white neighbors with impunity.
But when the police seek information from Chinatown, Chinatown takes
its revenge--and is silent.
Out on the river, above and below Limehouse, patrols watched for
signals from the Asiatic quarter, and from a carefully selected spot
on the Surrey side George Martin watched also. Not even the lure of a
neighboring tavern could draw him from his post. Hour after hour he
waited patiently--for Sin Sin Wa paid fair prices, and tonight he
bought neither opium nor cocaine, but liberty.
Pages:
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373