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