Lees descried him as he paused before a dimly lighted door. Evidently he was challenged; gave a countersign. For the door swung back. Po Lun passed through. Nothing happened for a time. Then a piercing feline wail stabbed through the night.
"M-i-i-a-o-w-r-r-r!"
Lees sprang forward, pressed his weight against the partly-open portal; flashed his dark lantern on two figures struggling violently. His hand fell on the collar of Po Lun's antagonist; a policeman's "billy" cracked upon his skull. "Tie and gag him," said the captain. "Leave a man on guard.... The rest of you come on."
Po Lun leading, they went, single file through utter blackness. Now and then the white disc of Lees' lantern, now in Po Lun's hand, gleamed like a guiding will-o-wisp upon the tortuous path.
Suddenly Benito felt the presence of new personalities. They seemed to be in a room with other people. Several dark lamps flashed at Po Lun's signal. They revealed a room sumptuously furnished. Teakwood chairs, with red embroidered backs and cushions, stood about the walls. Handsome gilded grillwork screened a boudoir worthy of a queen. Clad in the laciest of robes de chambre, a dark-skinned woman sat on the edge of a canopied bed. She was past her first youth, but still of remarkable beauty. At the foot of the bed stood McTurpin--pale ghost of his former self. He looked like a cornered rat ... and quite as dangerous. Two Chinese were crouched against a lacquered screen.
"What do you want?" asked the woman, her voice shrill with anger.
"Take your hand out from under that pillow!" ordered Lees. "No nonsense, Smiling Rose."
Reluctantly the ringed and tapered fingers that had clutched apparently a hidden weapon came into view. "Light the lamps," said Lees, and one of his men performed this office.
"That's the woman, father," spoke young Robert, unexpectedly.
"Put the bracelets on her," ordered Lees, "and search the place." A man stepped forward.