Knowing the ropes was of assistance to the detective now.
He went in, and assuming the eager, trembling manner of an habitue demanded a bunk and a pipe. All the while he used his eyes.
The room was supplied with lounges and settees—the usual bunks were in another apartment where the Chinese and cheaper grade of smokers could indulge their pet vice for a smaller sum.
This place was furnished with something of Oriental splendor, and the detective could not but admire the barbaric taste of the proprietor.
The couches spread around were soft and inviting, Turkish in their make—some had curtains partly drawn, so that the occupant was half screened.
Three of these were occupied by women. This was no uncommon sight.
That two of them wore veils was evidence that they had not yet been hardened by the drug; but all this would come in time.
The third had thrown her veil back, and her set face could be seen, the eyes staring into vacancy, as though sightless.
Wretched sinners that they were, drawn onward by the inexorable god at whose altar they worshiped, there was no escape for them—just ahead lay the black gulf of despair, toward which they were hurrying so rapidly, and soon it must close over them.
Then—eternity!