"The fact is, Mister," said the elder Pilmansey, "these are police-officers. They want one of your friends—Mr. Chang Li."
The three occupants of the room appeared to pay no attention. The chess-players went on playing; the other man reached for a canister, and mechanically emptied tea out of it into his pot.
"Shut and lock that door, Ayscough," said the Inspector. "Let somebody stand by it. Now," he continued, turning to the three Chinese, "is one of you gentlemen Mr. Chang Li?"
"No!" replied one of the chess-players. "Not one of us!"
"Is he here?" demanded the Inspector. Then seeing that he was to be met by Oriental impassivity, he turned to the Pilmanseys. "What other rooms are there here?" he asked.
"Two," answered the elder brother, pointing to the curtains at the rear of the room. "One there—the other there. Behind those hangings—two smaller rooms."
The Inspector strode forward and tore the curtains aside. He flung open the first of the doors—and started back, catching his breath.
"Phew!" he said.
The heavy, narcotic odour which Purdie had noticed at once on entering the rooms came afresh, out of the newly-opened door, in a thick wave. And as the rest of them crowded after the Inspector, they saw why. This was a small room, hung like the first one with curiously-figured curtains, and lighted only by a sky-light, over which a square of blue stuff had been draped. In the subdued life they saw that there was nothing in that room but a lounge well fitted with soft cushions and pillows—and on it, his spare figure wrapped in a loose gown, lay a young Chinaman, who, as the foremost advanced upon him, blinked in their wondering faces out of eyes the pupils of which were still contracted. Near him lay an opium pipe—close by, on a tiny stand, the materials for more consumption of the drug.
The man who had accompanied the Inspector in his entrance to the tea-shop strode forward and seized the recumbent figure by the shoulder, shaking him gently.