"Who is the proprietor?"
"A retired Chinese sailor called Ah-Fang-Fu, but better known as
'Pidgin.' His establishment is called locally 'The Pidgin House.'"
"Ah." The Commissioner lighted a cigarette. "And you know of no other house which might be selected for such a purpose as I have mentioned?"
"I can't say I do, sir. I know pretty well all the business affairs of that neighbourhood, and none of the houses inside your circle have changed hands during the past twelve months. Between ourselves, sir, nearly all the property in the district belongs to Ah-Fang-Fu, and anything that goes on in Chinatown he knows about!"
"Ah, I see. Then in any event he is the man we want to watch?"
"Well, sir, you ought to keep an eye on his visitors, I should say."
"I am obliged to you, Inspector," said the courteous Assistant Commissioner, "for your very exact information. If necessary I shall communicate with you again. Good-day."
"Good-day, sir," replied the Inspector. "Good-day, gentlemen."
He went out.
Gaston Max, who had diplomatically remained in the background throughout this interview, now spoke.