For a moment Coryndon paused, and then lighted a match.  Close under his feet was the perilous edge of a staircase leading sheer down into a well-like depth of blackness.  A thin scream came up to him, and without waiting to consider, he ran down quickly.  At the bottom he found Mhtoon Pah’s overturned lantern, and relighting it, he followed the intermittent call of fear that echoed through the damp, cavernous place he found himself in.

A closed door stood at the end of a narrow passage, and from the further side of the door a stifled sound of terror came persistently.  Leh Shin sat in a huddled heap against the door, and Coryndon stooped over him, throwing the light from the lantern he carried upon him.

“I looked into his eyes,” said the Chinaman, in a weak voice, “and once more he overcame me.  His knife rent my arm, and I fell as though dead.”

Coryndon supported him to his feet.  His mind was working quickly.

“Canst thou stand by thyself?” he asked impatiently.

The Chinaman gave a nod of assent, and Coryndon hammered on the door, throwing all his weight against it, until it cracked and fell inwards under the nervous force of his slight frame.

What Coryndon expected to see, he did not know.  He was following his natural instinct when he threw aside the chase and capture of Mhtoon Pah and burst into the cellar-room.  It was small and close, and smelt of the foul, fruity atmosphere of mildew.  The ceiling was low, and crouching in one corner was a small boy, clad only in a loin-cloth, who stared at them and screamed with fear.

“The Chinamen, the Chinamen!” he shrieked.  “Mhtoon Pah, the Chinamen.”

“Absalom,” the name came to Coryndon’s lips, as he stood staring at him.  “My God, it must be Absalom.”

He had spoken in English before he had time to think, and he turned to see if his self-betrayal had struck upon the confused brain of Leh Shin, but Leh Shin knew nothing and saw nothing but the face of the boy his enemy loved.  He had placed the lamp on the floor and was feeling for his dagger, his eyes fascinated and his lips working soundlessly.

Coryndon caught him by the shoulder and snatched his knife from his hand.

“Fool,” he said.  “Wouldst thou ruin all at the end?  Listen closely and attend to me.  Now is the moment to cry for the police.  Thine enemy is in a close net; show me swiftly the way by which I may go out of this house, and sit thou here and stir not, neither cry out nor speak until thou hearest the police.  By the way I go out will I leave the door open, and some will enter there, and others at the front of the house.”

He turned to look at the boy, who pointed at the Chinaman and continued to shriek for Mhtoon Pah.  It was no moment for hesitation, though Coryndon’s thoughts went to the shop and the front door.  By that door Mhtoon Pah might already have escaped, but even allowing for this, there was time to catch him again.  He followed the way pointed out by the shaking hand of Leh Shin.