“We may find him,” mused the officer, glancing at me shrewdly, “by applying at the offices of the Planet Line, but I rather doubt it. Also I rather doubt if we'll look very far. He's saved us a lot of trouble, but”—peering about in the shadowy corners which abounded—“didn't I see somebody else lurking around here?”
“I'm almost certain there was someone else!” I cried. “In fact, I could all but swear to it.”
“H'm!” said the detective. “He's not here now. Might I trouble you to walk along to Limehouse Police Station for the ambulance? I'd better stay here.”
I agreed at once, and started off.
Thus a second time my plans were interrupted, for my expedition that night ultimately led me to Bow Street, whence, after certain formalities had been observed, I departed for my chambers, the mysterious pigtail in my pocket. Failing the presence of Durham, the pigtail must have been retained as evidence, but:
“We shall know where to find it if it's wanted, Mr. Knox,” said the Yard man, “and I can trust you to look after your own property.”
The clock of St. Paul's was chiming the hour of two when I locked the door of my chambers and prepared to turn in. The clangour of the final strokes yet vibrated through the night's silence when someone set my own door bell loudly ringing.
With an exclamation of annoyance I shot back the bolts and threw open the door.
A Chinaman stood outside upon the mat!