"He recognised 'Le Belafre'" whispered Max—"and was surprised to see him! So there are three of the gang here! Did you particularly observe in which bunks they lay, doctor. Ssh!"
A voice from a bunk had commenced to sing monotonously.
"Peyala peah," it sang, weird above the murmured accompaniment of the other dreaming smokers and the wash-wash of the tide—"To myn-na-peah-Phir Kysee ko kyah …"
"He is speaking from an opium-trance," said Stuart softly. "A native song: 'If a cup of wine is drunk, and I have drunk it, what of that?'"
"Mon Dieu! it is uncanny!" whispered Max. "Brr! do you hear those rats? I am wondering in what order we shall be admitted to the 'Scorpion's' presence, or if we shall see him together."
"He may come in here."
"All the better."
"Gimme 'nother pipe, Pidgin," drawled a very drowsy voice from Bill
Bean's corner.
Ah-Fang-Fu left his eternal arranging and rearranging of the cards and crossed the room. He took the opium-pipe from the fireman's limp fingers and returning to the box, refilled and lighted it. Max and Stuart watched him in silence until he had handed the second pipe to the man and returned to his chair.
"We must be very careful," said Stuart. "We do not know which are real smokers and which are not."