“Bloody liar,” murmured Sin Sin Wa.

“What!” shouted Kerry.  “What did you say, you yellow-faced mongrel!”

He clenched his fists and strode towards the Chinaman.

“Sarcee feller catchee pullee leg,” explained the unmoved Sin Sin Wa.  “Velly bad man tellee lie for makee bhoberry—­getchee poor Chinaman in tlouble.”

In the fog-bound silence Kerry could very distinctly be heard chewing.  He turned suddenly to Bryce.

“Go back and fetch two men,” he directed.  “I should never find my way.”

“Very good, sir.”

Bryce stepped to the door, unable to hide the relief which he experienced, and opened it.  The fog was so dense that it looked like a yellow curtain hung in the opening.

“Phew!” said Bryce.  “I may be some little time, sir.”

“Quite likely.  But don’t stop to pick daisies.”

The constable went out, closing the door.  Kerry laid his cane on the table, then stooped and tossed a cud of chewing-gum into the stove.  From his waistcoat pocket he drew out a fresh piece and placed it between his teeth.  Drawing a tea-chest closer to the stove, he seated himself and stared intently into the glowing heart of the fire.

Sin Sin Wa extended his arm and opened the little cupboard.

“Number one p’lice,” croaked the raven drowsily.

“You catchee sleepee, Tling-a-Ling,” said Sin Sin Wa.

He took out the green-eyed joss, set it tenderly upon a corner of the table, and closed the cupboard door.  With a piece of chamois leather, which he sometimes dipped into a little square tin, he began to polish the hideous figure.

CHAPTER XXIX

DOUBTS AND FEARS

Monte Irvin raised his head and stared dully at Margaret Halley.  It was very quiet in the library of the big old-fashioned house at Prince’s Gate.  A faint crackling sound which proceeded from the fire was clearly audible.  Margaret’s grey eyes were anxiously watching the man whose pose as he sat in the deep, saddle-back chair so curiously suggested collapse.

“Drugs,” he whispered.  “Drugs.”

Few of his City associates would have recognized the voice; all would have been shocked to see the change which had taken place in the man.

“You really understand why I have told you, Mr. Irvin, don’t you?” said Margaret almost pleadingly.  “Dr. Burton thought you should not be told, but then Dr. Burton did not know you were going to ask me point blank.  And I thought it better that you should know the truth, bad as it is, rather than—­”

“Rather than suspect—­worse things,” whispered Irvin.  “Of course, you were right, Miss Halley.  I am very, very grateful to you for telling me.  I realize what courage it must have called for.  Believe me, I shall always remember—­”

He broke off, staring across the room at his wife’s portrait.  Then: