“Eh!”

Kerry stood upright, moving his shoulders and rattling the handcuffs.

“Comee here when Sin Sin Wa hate gone for catchee shavee, liftee alla my dollars, and-pff! chee-lo!”

He raised his hand and blew imaginary fluff into space.  Kerry stared down at him with an expression in which animal ferocity and helplessness were oddly blended.  Then: 

“Bryce,” he said, “stay here.  I’m going to search the house.”

“Very good, sir.”

Kerry turned again to the Chinaman.

“Is there anyone upstairs?” he demanded.

“Nobody hate.  Sin Sin Wa alla samee lonesome.  Catchee shinum him joss.”

Kerry dropped the handcuffs back into the pocket of his overall and took out an electric torch.  With never another glance at Sin Sin Wa he went out into the passage and began to mount the stairs, presently finding himself in a room filled with all sorts of unsavory rubbish and containing a large cupboard.  He uttered an exclamation of triumph.

Crossing the littered floor, and picking his way amid broken cane chairs, tea-chests, discarded garments and bedlaths, he threw open the cupboard door.  Before him hung a row of ragged clothes and a number of bowler hats.  Directing the ray of the torch upon the unsavory collection, he snatched coats and hats from the hooks upon which they depended and hurled them impatiently upon the floor.

When the cupboard was empty he stepped into it and began to bang upon the back.  The savagery of his expression grew more marked than usual, and as he chewed his maxillary muscles protruded extraordinarily.

“If ever I sounded a brick wall,” he muttered, “I’m doing it now.”

Tap where he would—­and he tapped with his knuckles and with the bone ferrule of his cane—­there was nothing in the resulting sound to suggest that that part of the wall behind the cupboard was less solid than any other part.

He examined the room rapidly, then passed into another one adjoining it, which was evidently used as a bedroom.  The latter faced towards the court and did not come in contact with the wall of the neighboring house.  In both rooms the windows were fastened, and judging from the state of the fasteners were never opened.  In that containing the cupboard outside shutters were also closed.  Despite this sealing-up of the apartments, traces of fog hung in the air.  Kerry descended the stairs.

Snapping off the light of his torch, he stood, feet wide apart, staring at Sin Sin Wa.  The latter, smiling imperturbably, yellow hands resting upon knees, sat quite still on the tea-chest.  Constable Bryce was seated on a corner of the table, looking curiously awkward in his tweed overcoat and bowler hat, which garments quite failed to disguise the policeman.  He stood up as Kerry entered.  Then: 

“There used to be a door between this house and the next,” said Kerry succinctly.  “My information is exact and given by someone who has often used that door.”