Thus there were some moments of tense silence during which the savage face of the Chief Inspector drew even closer to the gaunt, yellow face of the Eurasian.  Finally: 

“Listen only for one moment,” said Zani Chada.  His voice had lost its guttural intonation.  He spoke softly, sibilantly.  “I, too, am a father------”

“Don’t mince words!” shouted Kerry.  “You’ve kidnapped my boy.  If I have to tear your house down brick by brick I’ll find him.  And if you’ve hurt one hair of his head—­you know what to expect!”

He quivered.  The effort of suppression which he had imposed upon himself was frightful to witness.  Zani Chada, student of men, knew that in despite of his own physical strength and of the hidden resources at his beck, he stood nearer to primitive retribution than he had ever done.  Yet: 

“I understand,” he continued.  “But you do not understand.  Your boy is not in this house.  Oh! violence cannot avail!  It can only make his loss irreparable.”

Kerry, nostrils distended, eyes glaring madly, bent over him.

“Your scallywag of a son,” he said hoarsely, “has gone one step too far.  His adventures have twice before ended in murder—­and you have covered him.  This time you can’t do it.  I’m not to be bought.  We’ve stood for the Far East in London long enough.  Your cub hangs this time.  Get me?  There’ll be no bargaining.  The woman’s reputation won’t stop me.  My kid’s danger won’t stop me.  But if you try to use him as a lever I’ll boot you to your stinking yellow paradise and they’ll check you in as pulp.”

“You speak of three deaths,” murmured Zani Chada.

Kerry clenched his teeth so tightly that his maxillary muscles protruded to an abnormal degree.  He thrust his clenched fists into his coat pockets.

“We all follow our vocations in life,” resumed the Eurasian, “to the best of our abilities.  But is professional kudos not too dearly bought at the price of a loved one lost for ever?  A far better bargain would be, shall we say, ten thousand pounds, as the price of a silk handkerchief------”

Kerry’s fierce blue eyes closed for a fraction of a second.  Yet, in that fraction of a second, he had visualized some of the things which ten thousand pounds—­a sum he could never hope to possess—­would buy.  He had seen his home, as he would have it—­ and he had seen Dan there, safe and happy at his mother’s side.  Was he entitled to disregard the happiness of his wife, the life of his boy, the honourable name of Sir Noel Rourke, because an outcast like Peters had come to a fitting end—­because a treacherous Malay and a renegade Chinaman had, earlier, gone the same way, sped, as he suspected, by the same hand?

“My resources are unusual,” added Chada, speaking almost in a
whisper.   “I have cash to this amount in my safe------”

So far he had proceeded when he was interrupted; and the cause of the interruption was this: