“Dunbar!” he cried feebly, stepping aside to avoid Helen Cumberly, where she lay.  “Dunbar!"...

XL

DAWN AT THE NORE

The river police seemed to be floating, suspended in the fog, which now was so dense that the water beneath was invisible.  Inspector Rogers, who was in charge, fastened up his coat collar about his neck and turned to Stringer, the Scotland Yard man, who sat beside him in the stern of the cutter gloomily silent.

“Time’s wearing on,” said Rogers, and his voice was muffled by the fog as though he were speaking from inside a box.  “There must be some hitch.”

“Work it out for yourself,” said the C. I. D. man gruffly.  “We know that the office in Globe Road belongs to Gianapolis, and according to the Eastern Exchange he was constantly ringing up East 39951; that’s the warehouse of Kan-Suh Concessions.  He garages his car next door to the said warehouse, and to-night our scouts follow Gianapolis and Max from Piccadilly Circus to Waterloo Station, where they discharge the taxi and pick up Gianapolis’ limousine.  Still followed, they drive—­where?  Straight to the garage at the back of that wharf yonder!  Neither Gianapolis, Max, nor the chauffeur come out of the garage.  I said, and I still say, that we should have broken in at once, but Dunbar was always pigheaded, and he thinks Max is a tin god."...

“Well, there’s no sign from Max,” said Rogers; “and as we aren’t ten yards above the wharf, we cannot fail to hear the signal.  For my part I never noticed anything suspicious, and never had anything reported, about this ginger firm, and where the swell dope-shop I’ve heard about can be situated, beats me.  It can’t very well be under the place, or it would be below the level of the blessed river!”

“This waiting makes me sick!” growled Stringer.  “If I understand aright—­and I’m not sure that I do—­there are two women tucked away there somewhere in that place”—­he jerked his thumb aimlessly into the fog; “and here we are hanging about with enough men in yards, in doorways, behind walls, and freezing on the river, to raid the Houses of Parliament!”

“It’s a pity we didn’t get the word from the hospitals before Max was actually inside,” said Rogers.  “For three wealthy ladies to be driven to three public hospitals in a sort of semi-conscious condition, with symptoms of opium, on the same evening isn’t natural.  It points to the fact that the boss of the den has unloaded!  He’s been thoughtful where his lady clients were concerned, but probably the men have simply been kicked out and left to shift for themselves.  If we only knew one of them it might be confirmed.”

“It’s not worth worrying about, now,” growled Stringer.  “Let’s have a look at the time.”

He fumbled inside his overcoat and tugged out his watch.

“Here’s a light,” said Rogers, and shone the ray of an electric torch upon the watch-face.