Silently he cursed the soldier’s ancestors half a thousand years back. If the white fool hadn’t meddled in the parlour that afternoon!
“Come with me,” he said, finally.
The game was played out; the counters had gone back to the basket. He had no desire to come into contact with police officials. Only it was as bitter as the gall of chicken, and he purposed to lessen his own discomfort by making the lame man share it. Oriental humour.
Dennison and the hotel manager followed him curiously. At the end of the corridor Ling Foo stopped and knocked on a door. It was opened immediately. 82
“Ah! Oh!”
The inflections touched Dennison’s sense of humour, and he smiled. A greeting with a snap-back of dismay.
“I’m not surprised,” he said. “I had a suspicion I’d find you in this somewhere.”
“Find me in what?” asked Cunningham, his poise recovered. He, too, began to smile. “Won’t you come in?”
“What about these glass beads?”
“Glass beads? Oh, yes. But why?”