"Now then!" he said, sharply, "wake up, my man! Are you Chang Li?"
The glazed eyes lifted themselves a little wonderingly; the dry lips moved.
"Yes," he muttered. "Chang Li—yes. You want me?"
"How long have you been here?" demanded the questioner.
"How long—yes? Oh—I don't know. What do you want?" asked Chang Li. "I don't know you."
The tea-maker thrust his head inside the room.
"He can't tell you anything," he said, with a grin. "He has been—what you call on the break-out—with opium—ever so many days. He has—attacks that way. Takes a fit of it—just as some of your people take to the drink. He's coming out of it, now—and he'll be very, very unhappy tomorrow."
The Inspector twisted round on the informant.
"Look here!" he said. "Do you know how long he's been here—stupifying himself? Is it a day—or days?"
One of the chess-players lifted a stolid face.