The Chief Inspector started, involuntarily.
“Damn the thing!” he muttered. “Come in, Bryce, and shut the door. What’s this?”
On a tea-chest set beside the glowing stove, the little door of which was open, stood a highly polished squat wooden image, gilded and colored red and green. It was that of a leering Chinaman, possibly designed to represent Buddha, and its jade eyes seemed to blink knowingly in the dancing rays from the stove.
“Sin Sin Wa’s Joss,” murmured the proprietor, as Bryce closed the outer door. “Me shinee him up; makee Joss glad. Number one piecee Joss.”
Kerry turned and stared into the pock-marked smiling face. Seen in that dim light it was not unlike the carved face of the image, save that the latter possessed two open eyes and the Chinaman but one. The details of the room were indiscernible, lost in yellowish shadow, but the eye of the raven and the eye of Sin Sin Wa glittered like strange jewels.
“H’m,” said Kerry. “Sorry to interrupt your devotions. Light us.”
“Allee velly proper,” crooned Sin Sin Wa.
He took up the Joss tenderly and bore it across the room. Opening a little cupboard set low down near the floor he discovered a lighted lantern. This he took out and set upon the dirty table. Then he placed the image on a shelf in the cupboard and turned smilingly to his visitors.
“Number one p’lice!” shrieked the raven.
“Here!” snapped Kerry. “Put that damn thing to bed!”