“For the last time,” said Kerry, stooping and thrusting his face forward so that his nose was only some six inches from that of Sin Sin Wa, “where’s Mrs. Sin?”
“Catchee lun off,” replied the Chinaman blandly. “Velly bad woman. Tlief woman. Catchee stealee alla my dollars!”
“Eh!”
Kerry stood upright, moving his shoulders and rattling the handcuffs.
“Comee here when Sin Sin Wa hate gone for catchee shavee, liftee alla my dollars, and—pff! chee-lo!”
He raised his hand and blew imaginary fluff into space. Kerry stared down at him with an expression in which animal ferocity and helplessness were oddly blended. Then:
“Bryce,” he said, “stay here. I’m going to search the house.”
“Very good, sir.”
Kerry turned again to the Chinaman.
“Is there anyone upstairs?” he demanded.