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Updated: June 29, 2025
How far, yet how smoothly, by all but imperceptible stages she had glided down the stream since that night when the gold box had lain upon her dressing-table! Kazmah's drug store in Bond Street had few secrets for her; or so she believed.
It was ajar, and Kerry, taking an electric torch from his overall pocket, flashed the light upon the name-plate. He stood for a moment, chewing and looking up the darkened stairs. Then, torch in hand he ascended. Kazmah's door was closed, and the Chief Inspector rapped loudly. It was opened at once by Sergeant Burton, and Kerry entered, followed by Coombes.
He suppressed a sigh, and changed the topic of conversation. Sir Lucien's intervention proved successful. Kazmah's charges became more modest, and Rita no longer found it necessary to deprive herself of hats and dresses in order to obtain drugs. But, nevertheless, these were not the halcyon days of old. She was now surrounded by spies.
Yet there were few, when the truth respecting Sir Lucien Pyne became known, who did not believe it to have been a deliberate act, designed to lure Quentin Gray into the path of the poppy. Less than a month later Rita was in a state of desperation again. Kazmah's prices had soared above anything that he had hitherto extorted.
As a result Vine Street was advised that the Home office investigator would proceed at once to Kazmah's premises, and from thence wherever available clues might lead him. For some reason which has not yet been explained to me, this investigator chooses to preserve a strict anonymity." Traces of irritation became perceptible in the weary voice.
Against it, silhouetted, she could discern part of the outline of Kazmah's chair. She drew back, uttering a low, sobbing cry. Sir Lucien supported her, and: "Don't be afraid, dear," he said reassuringly. "Nothing shall hurt you." He pushed open a door, and through it shone the same vague light which she had seen in the opening behind the chair.
Margaret laughed outright and her laughter was so inoffensive and so musical that the Chief Inspector laughed also. "That's more hopeless than ever!" she said. "Poor Sir Lucien had strong, harsh features and rather small eyes. He wore a moustache, too. But Sir Lucien, I feel sure, was one of Kazmah's clients." "Ah!" said Kerry.
"It is an additional safeguard," he had assured her. "It corresponds to the method of a notorious Paris assassin who was very generally regarded by the police as a cunning pickpocket. Kazmah's business of 'dreamreading' does not actually come within the Act. He is clever enough for that. Remember, he does not profess to tell fortunes. It also enables him to balk idle curiosity."
"Is it clear to ye yet?" "Nearly clear. The dark thing you saw behind it all, Mary, was dope! Kazmah's is a secret drug-syndicate. They've appointed a Home office agent, and he's working independently of us, but..." His teeth came together with a snap. "Oh, Dan," said his wife, "it's a race? Drugs? A Home office agent? Dan, they think the Force is in it?" "They do!" rapped Kerry.
"Sir," said Kerry, "if ever you need a testimonial to your efficiency at this game, my address is Sixty-seven Spenser Road, Brixton. We've met before." "We have, Chief Inspector," was the reply. "We met at Kazmah's, and later at a certain gambling den in Soho." The pseudo fireman dragged a big cigar-case from his hip-pocket. "I'm known as Seton Pasha. Can I offer you a cheroot?"
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