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I had not slept and had scarcely tasted food for more than thirty hours; for, following up a faint clue supplied by Burke, Slattin's man, and, like his master, an ex-officer of New York Police, my friend, Nayland Smith, on the previous evening, had set out in quest of some obscene den where the man called Shen-Yan former keeper of an opium shop was now said to be in hiding.
Shen-Yan we knew to be a creature of the Chinese doctor, and only a most urgent call had prevented me from joining Smith upon this promising, though hazardous expedition.
Most of the occupants were lying motionless, but one or two were squatting in their bunks noisily sucking at the little metal pipes. These had not yet attained to the opium-smoker's Nirvana. "No loom samee tella you," said Shen-Yan, complacently testing Smith's shilling with his yellow, decayed teeth. Smith walked to a corner and dropped cross-legged, on the floor, pulling me down with him.
My second piece of news will interest you very much, I am sure. You were taken to the establishment of the Chinaman, Shen-Yan, by a certain ex-officer of New York Police Burke..." "Good God!" cried Smith, looking up with a start; "I thought they had him!" "So did I," replied Weymouth grimly; "but they haven't!
In fact," he turned to Smith, who, grim-faced and haggard, looked thoroughly ill in that gray light "I believe Fu-Manchu's lair is somewhere near the former opium-den of Shen-Yan 'Singapore Charlie." Smith nodded. "We will turn our attention in that direction," he replied, "at a very early date." Inspector Weymouth looked down at the body of Abel Slattin. "How was it done?" he asked softly.
I had not slept and had scarcely tasted food for more than thirty hours; for, following up a faint clue supplied by Burke, Slattin's man, and, like his master, an ex-officer of New York Police, my friend, Nayland Smith, on the previous evening had set out in quest of some obscene den where the man called Shen-Yan former keeper of an opium-shop was now said to be in hiding.
Shen-Yan we knew to be a creature of the Chinese doctor, and only a most urgent call had prevented me from joining Smith upon this promising, though hazardous expedition.
My second piece of news will interest you very much, I am sure. You were taken to the establishment of the Chinaman, Shen-Yan, by a certain ex-officer of New York Police Burke...." "Good God!" cried Smith, looking up with a start; "I thought they had him!" "So did I," replied Weymouth grimly; "but they haven't!
In fact" he turned to Smith, who, grim-faced and haggard, looked thoroughly ill in that grey light "I believe Fu-Manchu's lair is somewhere near the former opium-den of Shen-Yan 'Singapore Charlie'!" Smith nodded. "We will turn our attention in that direction," he replied, "at a very early date." Inspector Weymouth looked down at the body of Abel Slattin. "How was it done?" he asked softly.
"Unfortunately with no result," continued the inspector. "The notorious Shen-Yan was missing, and although there is no real doubt that the place is used as a gaming-house, not a particle of evidence to that effect could be obtained. Also there was no sign of Mr. Nayland Smith, and no sign of the American, Burke, who had led him to the place." "Is it certain that they went there?"
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