"Well, he seems to have something to do with these Chinese, receives communications from Patagonia, is a known adventurer, and, perhaps most convincing of all, I don't like him," thought the Doctor. "Helston is coming back to-morrow, and I'll have a long yarn with him about this business."
So next day he told Helston all the details that were arousing his suspicions, adding, "I don't suppose there is much in it, but I am a beastly suspicious fellow and don't like him."
"Well," answered Helston very gravely, "do you know what was found in that powder barge? A dead Chinaman!—unrecognizable except for his pigtail. We've managed to keep the fact very quiet, but this somehow seems to connect things, doesn't it?"
The best thing to be done, they both agreed, was to keep their eye on Hopkins, and to do that more easily Helston decided to make out his commission as secretary to himself. Later, when he gave it to Hopkins, no one could deny that his expressions of extreme pleasure were genuine. Two nights later, however, the Doctor, coming back to the hotel at midnight, went up to Helston's room with a very grave face.
"Pretty late to turn a fellow out," said Helston, switching on the light. "Hullo, man, you look pretty scared! What's in the wind now?"
"I've just come from that doss-house of which I told you. I pretended to the boss that I wanted a Chinese cook to take out with me. He was an ugly old Cantonese, and took me into his little room—pugh! how the place did reek of garlic and stale clothes—and went off to try and find one. Whilst I was waiting I heard a shrill argument going on in the next room—there was only a wooden partition between—and presently I heard a voice, which I would swear anywhere was Hopkins's, ordering silence."
"He told us he was off to the theatre," interposed Helston, now thoroughly awake.
"You can imagine I was on the qui vive then, and did my best to hear what was going on. Two Chinamen were evidently trying to extort money from him, but they were talking so shrilly and so fast—you know how they talk when they are excited—that I could not make out much of it till another voice chimed in, and I distinctly heard: 'He smokee too muchee opium, massa. Me go shakee him—no can move—vely big man—no can wait—go topside plenty quick—jump in boat—all plenty chop, chop—then makee blow up. Ah Tung belong dead man—you pay blother fifty dollars can do—all belong ploper.' You know their pidgin-English?"
"Can you swear it was Hopkins's voice?" asked Helston. "That must have been the brother of the man killed in the powder barge."
"I would swear to that beastly nasal twang anywhere."