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His recitation was done so well that, when he had finished, we sat, for a moment, in frightened silence, like children. Then we stormed him with applause. "Now play the Danse Macabre," cried Nichi, to Von Hammer.... "I can't do it without a violin accompaniment." "Try it for me ... and I shall dance the Dance of Death for you."
"I haven't seen him yet." The Japanese smiled his engaging smile. "Not know," was all he said, and yet I knew the fellow at least knew better English, if not more facts. Kennedy had about started on our faking a third "pipe" when a new, unexpected arrival beckoned excitedly to Nichi.
It is run by a man known as 'Big Jack' Clendenin who was once an actor and, I believe, met and fascinated Miss Curtis during her brief career on the stage. He has an attendant there, a Jap, named Nichi Moto, who is a perfect enigma. I can't understand him on any reasonable theory. A long time ago we raided the place and packed up a lot of opium, pipes, material and other stuff.
He had just gone back to his office at headquarters and there he had found a report of another murder. "Who is it?" asked Kennedy, "and why do you connect it with this case?" O'Connor's answer must have been a poser, judging from the look of surprise on Craig's face. "The Jap Nichi Moto?" he repeated.
A hasty exclamation from O'Connor followed as he drew from the scant cushions of the bunk a long-barreled pistol, a .44 such as the tong leaders used, the same make as had shot Bertha Curtis and Nichi. Craig seized it and stuck it into his pocket. All the gamblers had fled, all except those too drugged to escape.
His fire wakes kindred fire ... why must we leave the business of teaching to the corpse-minded, the dead-hearted? like so many of our professors and teachers!" I found out afterward that Nichi Swartzman was utterly irresponsible as he was brilliant.
Nichi Moto with an eye to business and not to our absorbing more than enough to whet our descriptive powers quickly conducted us into a large room where, on single bamboo couches or bunks, rather tastefully made, perhaps half a dozen habitues lay stretched at full length smoking their pipes in peace, or preparing them in great expectation from the implements on the trays before them.
It did not take long to find the right man among the revenue officers to talk with. Nor was Kennedy surprised to learn that Nichi Moto had been in fact a Japanese detective, a sort of stool pigeon in Clendenin's establishment working to keep the government in touch with the latest scheme.
In the meantime I shall call on Jameson with his well-known newspaper connections in the white light district," here he gave me a half facetious wink, "to see what he can do toward getting me admitted to this gilded palace of dope up there on Forty-fourth Street." After no little trouble Kennedy and I discovered our "hop joint" and were admitted by Nichi Moto, of whom we had heard.
"At least we know this," commented Kennedy, as I congratulated myself on our fortunate escape, "Clendenin was not there, and there is something doing to-night, for he has sent for Nichi." We dropped into our apartment to freshen up a bit against the long vigil that we knew was coming that night.
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