sulky know-nothing role which he had adopted successfully with the official interpreter. Furneaux, watching the faces of prisoner and questioners, guessed that small progress was being made, so, waiting until Len Shi was evidently quite satisfied with himself, he suddenly thrust an ivory skull before the man's eyes. The result was unexpected but puzzling. The man was badly scared, beyond doubt, but he now became obstinately silent.
Winter, than whom no living actor could play up better to Furneaux's tactics in a touch-and-go encounter of this sort, assumed a highly tragic air.
"Handcuff that man, and bring him out!" he said to the constable in charge of the cells.
Len Shi blanched. He estimated the legal methods of Great Britain by those which obtained in his own land, and probably thought he was being led forth to immediate execution.
The whole five crowded into the car, and the driver, the same English chauffeur to whom Theydon had spoken, was told to make for 412 Charlotte Street, and pass the house slowly, but not pull up. Len Shi, though quaking with alarm, bore himself with a certain dignified stoicism until he found out where the car was apparently stopping. Then he said something in a panic-stricken voice and the jute merchant, who spoke English fluently, turned to Furneaux.
"Tell the chauffeur to return," he said. "Len Shi will now confess."
Once started, Len Shi talked volubly. The others merely put in a question now and then, and the detectives curbed their impatience as best they might until Len Shi was safely lodged in Bow Street again.
Then Winter led his Chinese helpers into an inner office and closed the door.
"Well?" he said, addressing the jute merchant. The other Chinaman had very little English and could not maintain a conversation.
But, to the chief inspector's surprise and wrath, the English-speaking Chinaman had only a request to make.
"Give me and my friend those three ivory skulls," he said.
"Why?" he said.
"Without them we can accomplish nothing."
"Be good enough to explain yourself. Above all, tell me what Len Shi has been jabbering about. He had plenty to say."
"He told us of the fate of our friends in China. Those things do not concern you. What you want is to have Wong Li Fu and the others—there are nearly twenty in all—delivered into your hands. Very well. Give us those ivory skulls, and bring your men to that house in Charlotte Street, at one o'clock this night, and you will take them without a blow being struck."
"That is our business, not yours," said Winter, gruffly decisive. "I cannot expose you two gentlemen to any personal risk in this affair. Kindly—"
"You do not understand," broke in the jute merchant, addressing the burly representative of the Criminal Investigation Department as if he were a fractious child who must be informed as to the why and wherefore of a disagreeable duty. "What will you do? Surround the house with policemen, break in the doors, and fight? You may, or may not succeed. Some, plenty, of your men will certainly be killed. That is not good. We do not wish it. Give me those skulls. I and my friend will go there. You come at one o'clock, tap so on the door, and we will admit you. Then you take Wong Li Fu and all the others. There will be no fight."
The Chinaman's manner was singularly impressive as he tapped three times on a high desk to emphasize, as it were, his instructions. The sound, too, was curious. He did not use his knuckles, but bunched the fingers of his right hand together, and rapped on the wood with the long nails which are a mark of distinction in his race.
"We make things easy and certain for you," he added, more by way of painstaking argument than because any further explanation was really necessary. "You do not wish to fail, no? You want to be sure that Wong Li Fu's evil deeds shall be stopped? Good. We do that—I and my friend. We can pass the door-keepers. Can you? No. At one o'clock we open the door and the Young Manchus will be wholly in your power, to do with them what you will. I promise that, and my word is always taken in the city."
Winter turned troubled eyes on Furneaux.
"What do you say?" he muttered irresolutely.
"I think the plan is a good one, and should be adopted," was the instant reply.
Nevertheless, Winter was perplexed. He hemmed and hawed a good deal. Seldom did he hesitate in this fashion. As a rule, he was quick to decide and quicker to act.
"I might entertain your scheme if I were told more about it," he said dubiously, gazing with troubled eyes at the Chinaman's blandly inscrutable face. "Please believe me when I say that I trust your good faith, but I am not sure that even you understand fully the nature of the adventure you have in mind. Wong Li Fu has already committed one murder in London. He has attempted others, and is absolutely careless of consequences. How can I have any guarantee that you and this other gentleman may not be his next victims? He is a person who displays a somewhat forced humor. We might enter the Charlotte Street house at one o'clock and find your corpses there, with labels and ivory skulls neatly attached."
"That will not be so," was the grave answer.
"If I agree, what time do you propose going there?"
"About midnight."
"And do you expect the police to leave the whole neighborhood severely alone for another hour?"
"Not unless you wish it. If you so desire you can occupy both ends of the street, and arrest every Chinaman coming away from No. 412, but let those pass who go towards it."
"Will others go there—friends of yours, I mean?"
"Oh, yes. We will overpower the Young Manchus by taking them unaware. We will act quietly, but there will be no mistake. It is you who will err if you do not accept our help."
Then Winter yielded, though not with a good grace. The implied suggestion that the London police could not handle a set of Mongolian ruffians was utterly distasteful, yet he admitted, though unwillingly, that he did not want to sacrifice some of his best men in rushing the place.
"All right," he said. "Hand over the skulls, Furneaux! It is quite agreed," he went on, addressing the Chinaman again, "that I have full liberty of action in so far as preliminary arrangements are concerned? I see your point that Wong Li Fu must not be forewarned, and shall take care that my men are hidden. I have your positive assurance, too, that you are not exposing your own life in any way?"
"To the best of my belief I shall be as safe in Charlotte Street as I am here," said the jute merchant, smiling for the first time during the interview.
"One! Two! Three!" said Furneaux, counting the skulls into the Chinaman's outstretched hand.
For some reason, the action, no less than the words, jarred on Winter.
"I do wish you wouldn't be so d—— d theatrical!" he growled.
Furneaux said nothing. He accompanied the chief inspector when the latter escorted the two Chinamen to their car, and whistled softly between his teeth while Winter and he were walking to Scotland Yard. The big man glowered at him once or twice, but passed no comment. When they reached the Embankment, Winter took Furneaux to his room, but left him instantly. He was absent a long time. When he came in again he was cheerfully placid.
Walking toward their favorite restaurant in Soho, they met a newsboy running with an edition of an evening newspaper damp from the press. The boy was shouting, "'Orrible crime in the West End; Chinese outrage!" Furneaux bought a paper. It contained a lively account of the attack on Mr. Forbes's house and described the mansion as an armed fortress. Scores of police were parading the neighborhood and examining every passing motor car lest it held Chinese bandits. The arrest of Len Shi at St. Albans, and of a Japanese outside Innesmore Mansions, was recalled, and an Eastbourne correspondent had sent a fairly accurate version of the kidnaping of Mrs. Forbes.
"The pack is in full cry now, James," grinned Furneaux. "Tomorrow—"
"O, bother tomorrow! Let's eat, and talk about something else."
"What? Both?