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Updated: June 14, 2025
Glancing helplessly about him, the young man obeyed, and approaching Kerry: "I say, officer," he whispered nervously, "can't you manage to keep my name out of it? I mean to say, my people will kick up the deuce. Anything up to a tenner...." The whisper faded away. Kerry's expression had grown positively ferocious.
So mused Durham, standing cold and uncomfortable in the shadowy doorway, and dreaming of a certain cosy fireside, a pair of carpet slippers and a glass of hot toddy which awaited him. Suddenly: "Great flames! Look!" he cried. Kerry's fingers closed, steely, upon Durham's wrist.
Seton thereupon came to Kerry's assistance, and gradually the dinghy crept upon its course, until, below the little pier, they found a sheltered spot, where it was possible to run in and lie hidden. As they won this haven: "Quiet!" said Seton. "Don't move the oars. Look! We were only just in time!"
Kerry's fierce eyes challenged him. "Did you ever see a wound made by a stiletto?" "Several in Italy, and one at Saffron Hill. They are characterised by very little external bleeding." "Right, doctor. It had reached his heart?" "Yes. The blow was delivered from behind." "How do you know?" "The direction of the wound is forward.
A dry branch snapped under Kerry's foot with the report of a toy pistol. He swore perfunctorily, and gazed greedily at the cave-opening just ahead. He was a bungling woodsman at best; and now, stalking that greatest of all big game, man, the blood drummed in his ears and his heart seemed to slip a cog or two with every beat.
"I'll take you all on," the new arrival had declared amidst a silence of stupefaction, "starting with you" pointing to the biggest boy. "If we don't finish to-day, I'll begin again to-morrow." The sheer impudence of the thing had astounded everybody. Young Kerry's treatment of his leading persecutor had produced a salutary change of opinion.
They were seeking a hundred lesser stores instead of one greater one. Not all Seton's quiet explanations nor Kerry's savage language could wean the higher local officials from their ancient beliefs. They failed to conceive the idea of a wealthy syndicate conducted by an educated Chinaman and backed, covered, and protected by a crooked gentleman and accomplished man of affairs.
The man with the torch was entering. A hand which grasped a magazine pistol appeared beyond the edge of the door, and Kerry's period of inactivity came to an end. Leaning back he adroitly kicked the weapon from the hand of the man who held it! There was a smothered cry of pain, and the pistol fell clattering on the floor. The light went out, too. As it vanished Kerry leapt from his hiding-place.
He had been in the night club only about ten minutes, but during those ten minutes fully a dozen people had more or less hurriedly departed. Because of the arrangements already made by Sergeant Coombes, the addresses of many of these departing visitors would be in Kerry's possession ere the night was much older.
The tall figure in the doorway turned like a thing on a pivot; he did not start, nor spin round, as a slighter or more nervous person might have done; and a strange chill fell upon Kerry's heat when the man, whom he recognized as that one he had come to seek, faced him.
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