"He has been here—like that—several days," he said. "It's useless trying to do anything with him when he takes the fit—the craving, you understand?—into his head. If you want any information out of him, you'd better call again in a few hours."
"Do you mean to tell me he's been here—like that—several days?" demanded the Inspector.
The young man with the tea-pot grinned again.
"He's never been at a class at the medical school since the 17th," he announced. "I know that—he's in some classes with me. He's been here—all the time since then."
The Inspector turned sharply on Ayscough.
"The 17th!" he exclaimed. "And that affair was on the 18th! Then—"
Chang Li was fumbling in a pocket of his gown. He found something there, raised a hand to his lips, swallowed something. And in a few seconds, as his eyes grew brighter, he turned a suspicious and sullen glance on the group which stood watching him.
"What do you want?" he growled. "Who are you?"
"We want some information from you," said the Inspector. "When did you last see your brother, or friend, or whatever he is—Chen Li?"
Chang Li shook his head—it was obvious that he had no clear recollection.