Harley shook his head.
“It seems like fate,” he declared, “that this thing should have been sent to me this morning.” He indicated the silver Buddha. “A present from a friend who knows my weakness for Chinese ornaments,” he explained grimly. “It reminds me of that damned joss of Kwen Lung's!”
I took up the little image and examined it with interest. It was most beautifully fashioned in the patient Oriental way, and there was a little hinged door in the back which fitted so perfectly that when closed it was quite impossible to detect its presence. I glanced at Harley.
“I suppose you didn't find a jewel inside?” I said lightly.
“No,” he replied; “there was nothing inside.”
But even as he uttered the words his whole expression changed, and so suddenly as to startle me. He sprang up from the table, and:
“Have you an hour to spare, Knox?” he cried excitedly.
“I can spare an hour, but what for?”
“For Kwen Lung!”
Four minutes later we were speeding in the direction of Limehouse, and not a word of explanation to account for this sudden journey could I extract from my friend. Therefore I beguiled the time by telling him of my adventure with Captain Dan.