To know that the front door of the house was in all probability locked, and that, if my hosts and I came to hand-grips, my chances of escaping, by making a bolt for the street, were now cut off, was not reassuring. But I drew what consolation I could from the fact that the assailing force by which I was surrounded was reduced from six to four—two in the room and two on the staircase outside; and so I put as bold a face as I could upon it when the man, who had been cross-examining me, opened fire once more, his companion standing meanwhile just inside the door.
"And now, sir," resumed the counsel for the prosecution, "that we know to whom we are indebted for the pleasure of your company here, will you be so very good as to tell us why you are here at all?"
Thus far I had told him the truth, and I saw no reason why I should not continue to do so. It was Lord Beaconsfield, I think, who said that, when he wished to mystify his opponents, he almost invariably did so by telling them the truth. That being the last thing they expected from him, they would jump to the conclusion that the facts were the other way about, and so go hopelessly wrong at the start.
My reasons for deciding to be frank were based upon no such subtlety. That I had, quite unintentionally, blundered into a den of criminals, seemed evident; and undoubtedly the next best thing to do was to get out. I am not, I hope, altogether a coward, but one man, caught as I was, like a rat in a trap, is no match for four, possibly for six—for how was I to know that the two who had been stationed outside the door, and had apparently departed upon some errand, might not return? I could not even be positive that they had not been told off to wait for me in the dark court outside, so that in the event of my managing to escape unharmed from the house, they might prevent me from reaching the street. In coming to the place at all, I had beyond question put my head between the jaws of a lion; and the man who, with his head between a lion's jaws, plays the fool by trying to twist the beast's tail, must not be surprised if, within the next two seconds, his own head be not on speaking, or even on nodding terms, with his own body.
"I don't mind telling you why I'm here," I said civilly. "Why should I? It is only because I have been asked to write an article on opium dens for the Charing Cross Magazine. The den I visited once before in Ratcliff Highway has been pulled down, and a big Board School built on the site. I knew that there were dens somewhere in the neighbourhood of Limehouse Causeway, but I didn't know exactly where to find them, so I took the train to Poplar, gave a negro match-seller—who, I guessed, knew something of the locality—a couple of shillings to take me to 'where they smoked the opium.' He brought me here, where I am, and where apparently I ought not to be, judging by what you say. If I have intruded or trespassed, I'm sorry. So, with your kind permission, sir, I'll say 'Good evening' and take myself off."
"Stop a moment," he said, looking at me more amicably. "Your explanation is quite straightforward and satisfactory, and now that you've made it, I don't mind telling you the reason for what you must have thought strange behaviour on our part.
"This place, as you see for yourself, is an opium den, and these gentlemen," indicating the Chinamen on the mattresses, the two men at the foot of the stairs, and his companion, "are sailors. Opium smoking is forbidden among sailors in the employ of English vessels, and we thought when you came in that you were an officer from one of the vessels, who had managed to find out the den, and had come here to make yourself unpleasant. That is why I sent those men to guard the door and the stairs. If you had been what we thought you—well, I'm afraid you'd have been rather roughly handled. We don't intend to allow ships' officers, or anyone else, to come here interfering with our pleasures or with our takings, for, of course, we don't run the den out of charity. Now that I know it's all right, I'll just have a word with my friends on the stairs, and tell them that they needn't stand on guard any more. They'll be glad to get away, for they are thirsty rascals both, and were just off for a drink when you came in."
Taking his companion by the arm, he walked out upon the landing, where all four of them began whispering together.
Scarcely were they out of the room when, from the mattress where the two Chinamen lay, a single word, uttered softly, warningly, stealthily, almost in a whisper, under the breath, reached my ear.
It was my own Christian name, spoken in unmistakable English: "Max!"