Tales of Chinatown eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 302 pages of information about Tales of Chinatown.

Tales of Chinatown eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 302 pages of information about Tales of Chinatown.

Chief Inspector Kerry hesitated.  Peters belonged to a class which Kerry despised with all the force of his straightforward character.  A professional informer has his uses from the police point of view; and while evidence of this kind often figured in reports made to the Chief Inspector, he personally avoided contact with such persons, as he instinctively and daintily avoided contact with personal dirt.  But now, something so big was at stake that his hesitation was only momentary.

A vision of the pale face of Lady Rourke, of the golden head leaning weakly back upon the cushions of the coupe, as he had glimpsed it in Bond Street, rose before his mind’s eye as if conjured up out of the fog.  Peters shuffled along beside him, and: 

“Young Chada’s done himself in to-night,” continued the husky voice.  “He brought a swell girl to the old man’s house an hour ago.  I was hanging about there, thinking I might get some information.  I think she was doped.”

“Why?” snapped Kerry.

“Well, I was standing over on the other side of the street.  Lou Chada opened the door with a key; and when the light shone out I saw him carry her in.”

“Carry her in?”

“Yes.  She was in evening dress, with a swell cloak.”

“The car?”

“He came out again and drove it around to the garage at the back.”

“Why didn’t you report this at once?”

“I was on my way to do it when I saw you coming out of Malay Jack’s.”

The man’s voice shook nervously, and: 

“What are you scared about?” asked Kerry savagely.  “Got anything else to tell me?”

“No, no,” muttered Peters.  “Only I’ve got an idea he saw me.”

“Who saw you?”

“Lou Chada.”

“What then?”

“Well, only—­don’t leave me till we get to the station.”

Kerry blew down his nose contemptuously, then stopped suddenly.

“Stand still,” he ordered.  “I want to listen.”

Silent, they stood in a place of darkness, untouched by any lamplight.  Not a sound reached them through the curtain of fog.  Asiatic mystery wrapped them about, but Kerry experienced only contempt for the cowardice of his companion, and: 

“You need come no farther,” he said coldly.  “Good night.”

“But------” began the man.

“Good night,” repeated Kerry.

He walked on briskly, tapping the pavement with his malacca.  The sneaking figure of the informer was swallowed up in the fog.  But not a dozen paces had the Chief Inspector gone when he was arrested by a frenzied scream, rising, hollowly, in a dreadful, muffled crescendo.  Words reached him.

“My God, he’s stabbed me!”

Then came a sort of babbling, which died into a moan.

“Hell!” muttered Kerry, “the poor devil was right!”

He turned and began to run back, fumbling in his pocket for his electric torch.  Almost in the same moment that he found it he stumbled upon Peters, who lay half in the road and half upon the sidewalk.

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Project Gutenberg
Tales of Chinatown from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.