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He turned to the woman: "Tell him when he wakes up, Ma," he said, "that if ever my pal Jim wants a pipe he's to 'ave one. Savvy? Jim's square." "Savvy," replied the woman, and she was wholly unable to conceal her relief. "You clear out now, and I tell Kwen Lung when he come in." "Righto, Ma!" said Harley. "Kiss 'im on both cheeks for me, an' tell 'im I'll be 'ome again in a month."
He does not know that someone comes to see her someone who used to come to smoke but who gave it up because he had looked into the dear one's eye. He does not know that she goes with me to see her man. Ah! we think he does not know! I I arrange it all. A week ago they were married. Tuesday night, when Kwen Lung die, I plan for her to steal away for ever, for ever."
"Neither of 'em!" cried the fireman, some evidence of animation appearing in his face; "I been at Kwen Lung's." "In Pennyfields?" "That's 'im, the old bloke with the big joss. I allers goes to see Ma Lorenzo when I'm in Port o' London. I've seen 'er for the last time, mates." He banged a big and dirty hand upon the table.
They could find nobody in the neighbourhood prepared to state that Kwen Lung had a daughter or that Kwen Lung had no daughter. There are all sorts of fables about the old fox, but the facts about him are harder to get at." "But," I explained, "the bloodstains on the joss!" "Ma Lorenzo stumbled and fell there on the previous night, striking her skull against the foot of the figure."
Assuming a wild and boisterous manner which he had at command: "'Urry up, Ma!" said Harley, entering without ceremony; "I want to introduce my pal Jim 'ere to old Kwen Lung, and make it all right for him before I sail." Ma Lorenzo, who was half Portuguese, replied in her peculiar accent: "This no time to come waking me up out of bed!"
Innes, his invaluable secretary, showed me into the study at the back. "Hallo, Knox," said Harley, looking up from a little silver Buddha which he was examining, "have you come to ask for news of the Kwen Lung case?" "No," I replied. "Is there any?" Harley shook his head. "It seems like fate," he declared, "that this thing should have been sent to me this morning." He indicated the silver Buddha.
When finally we quitted the house of the missing Kwen Lung, and when, Harley having curtly acknowledged "good night" from the detective on duty, we came out into Limehouse Causeway. "You have not overlooked the possibility, Harley," I said, "that this woman's explanation may be true, and that the fireman of the Seahawk may have been entertaining us with an account of a weird dream?"
His knees were drawn up to his chin, and his head so compressed upon them that little of his features could be seen. "It is Kwen Lung!" murmured Ma Lorenzo, standing with clasped hands and wild eyes over by the window. "Kwen Lung and I am glad he is dead!" Such a note of hatred came into her voice as I had never heard in the voice of any woman. "He is vile, a demon, a mocking cruel demon!
"You mean that the woman inflicted the wound upon herself in order " "To save old Kwen Lung exactly! It's marvellous." "Good heavens!" I exclaimed. "And the window?" "Oh! it was broken right enough by two drunken sailormen fighting in the court outside! Sash and everything smashed to splinters." He began irritably to pace the carpet again.
"A present from a friend who knows my weakness for Chinese ornaments," he explained grimly. "It reminds me of that damned joss of Kwen Lung's!" I took up the little image and examined it with interest.
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