ess; and women, however murderous, he habitually disregarded as
adversaries. But the mummy-like, deceptive Sam Tuk was not negligible,
and Kazmah remained an unknown quantity.

From under that protective arm, cast across his face, Kerry's fierce
eyes peered out across the dirty floor. Then quickly he shut his eyes
again.

Sin Sin Wa, crooning his strange song, came in carrying a coil of
rope--and a Mauser pistol!

"P'licemanee gotchee catchee sleepee," he murmured, "or maybe he catchee
die!"

He tossed the rope to his wife, who stood silent tapping the floor with
one slim restless foot.

"Number one top-side tie up," he crooned. "Sin Sin Wa watchee withum
gun!"

Kerry lay like a dead man; for in the Chinaman's voice were menace and
warning.

CHAPTER XXXIX. THE EMPTY WHARF

The suspected area of Limehouse was closely invested as any fortress of
old when Seton Pasha once more found himself approaching that painfully
familiar neighborhood. He had spoken to several pickets, and had
gathered no news of interest, except that none of them had seen Chief
Inspector Kerry since some time shortly before dusk. Seton, newly from
more genial climes, shivered as he contemplated the misty, rain-swept
streets, deserted and but dimly lighted by an occasional lamp. The
hooting of a steam siren on the river seemed to be in harmony with the
prevailing gloom, and the most confirmed optimist must have suffered
depression amid those surroundings.

He had no definite plan of action. Every line of inquiry hitherto
followed had led to nothing but disappointment. With most of the
details concerning the elaborate organization of the Kazmah group either
gathered or in sight, the whereabouts of the surviving members remained
a profound mystery. From the Chinese no information could be obtained.
Distrust of the police resides deep within the Chinese heart; for the
Chinaman, and not unjustly, regards the police as ever ready to accuse
him and ever unwilling to defend him; knows himself for a pariah capable
of the worst crimes, and who may therefore be robbed, beaten and even
murdered by his white neighbors with impunity. But when the police seek
information from Chinatown, Chinatown takes its revenge--and is silent.

Out on the river, above and below Limehouse, patrols watched for signals
from the Asiatic quarter, and from a carefully selected spot on
the Surrey side George Martin watched also. Not even the lure of a
neighboring taver