Why had Sin Sin Wa forced his wife to betray herself? To clear Mareno? To clear Mrs. Irvin—or to save his own skin?
It was a frightful puzzle for Kerry. Then—where was Kazmah? That Mrs. Irvin, probably in a drugged condition, lay somewhere in that mysterious inner room Kerry felt fairly sure. His maltreated skull was humming like a bee-hive and aching intensely, but the man was tough as men are made, and he could not only think clearly, but was capable of swift and dangerous action.
He believed that he could tackle the Chinaman with fair prospects of success; and women, however murderous, he habitually disregarded as adversaries. But the mummy-like, deceptive Sam Tûk was not negligible, and Kazmah remained an unknown quantity.
From under that protective arm, cast across his face, Kerry’s fierce eyes peered out across the dirty floor. Then quickly he shut his eyes again.
Sin Sin Wa, crooning his strange song, came in carrying a coil of rope—and a Mauser pistol!
“P’licemanee gotchee catchee sleepee,” he murmured, “or maybe he catchee die!”
He tossed the rope to his wife, who stood silent tapping the floor with one slim restless foot.
“Number one top-side tie up,” he crooned. “Sin Sin Wa watchee withum gun!”
Kerry lay like a dead man; for in the Chinaman’s voice were menace and warning.