“Yes; and a certain Ah Fu, confidential servant of the old man, who used to buy the birds the thing fed on. Well, Mr. Knox, Huang Chow was the biggest dealer in illicit stuff in all the East End—and this battered thing at our feet is—Ah Fu!”
“Huang Chow's servant?”
“Exactly!”
I stared, uncomprehendingly, and:
“In what way does this throw light on the matter?” I asked.
Durham—a very intelligent young officer—smiled significantly.
“I begin to see light!” he declared. “The gentleman who made off just as I arrived on the scene probably had a private quarrel with the Chinaman and was otherwise not concerned in any way.”
“I am disposed to agree with you,” I said guardedly.
“Of course, you've no idea of his identity?”
“I'm afraid not.”