At a suitably dark spot the Chinaman had boarded the little craft, not without difficulty, for his wounded shoulder pained him, and had changed his sodden attire for a dry outfit which awaited him in the locker at the stern of the skiff. The cunning of the Chinese has the simplicity of true genius.
Not two paces had Seton taken on to the mystifying wharf when:
“Sam Tûk barber! Entrance in cellar!” rapped a ghostly, muffled voice from beneath his feet. “Sam Tûk barber! Entrance in cellar!”
Seton Pasha stood still, temporarily bereft of speech. Then, “Kerry!” he cried. “Kerry! Where are you?”
But apparently his voice failed to reach the invisible speaker, for:
“Sam Tûk barber! Entrance in cellar!” repeated the voice.
Seton Pasha wasted no more time. He ran out into the narrow street. A man was on duty there.
“Call assistance!” ordered Seton briskly, “Send four men to join me at the barber’s shop called Sam Tûk’s! You know it?”
“Yes, sir; I searched it with Chief Inspector Kerry.”
The note of a police whistle followed.