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.
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