g ship,
yet, who whilst promising to take the plunge every moment, hesitates and
will continue to hesitate until someone pushes him in. Pardieu! I
push! Because of his pig obstinacy I am compelled to take risks most
unnecessary. He will not consent, that Soames, to open the door for
us..."

"What door?" snapped Dunbar.

"The door of the establishment of Mr. King," explained Max, blandly.

"But where is it?"

"It is somewhere between Limehouse Causeway--is it not called so?--and
the riverside. But although I have been there, myself, I can tell you no
more...."

"What! you have been there yourself?"

"But yes--most decidedly. I was there some nights ago. But they are
ingenious, ah! they are so ingenious!--so Chinese! I should not have
known even the little I do know if it were not for the inquiries which
I made last week. I knew that the letters to Mr. Leroux which were
supposed to come from Paris were handed by Soames to some one who posted
them to Paris from Bow, East. You remember how I found the impression of
the postmark?"

Dunbar nodded, his eyes glistening; for that discovery of the
Frenchman's had filled him with a sort of envious admiration.

"Well, then," continued Max, "I knew that the inquiry would lead me
to your east-end, and I suspected that I was dealing with Chinamen;
therefore, suitably attired, of course, I wandered about in those
interesting slums on more than one occasion; and I concluded that the
only district in which a Chinaman could live without exciting curiosity
was that which lies off the West India Dock Road."...

Dunbar nodded significantly at Sowerby, as who should say: "What did I
tell you about this man?"

"On one of these visits," continued the Frenchman, and a smile struggled
for expression upon his mobile lips, "I met you two gentlemen with a
Mr.--I think he is called Stringer--"...

"You met US!" exclaimed Sowerby.

"My sense of humor quite overcoming me," replied M. Max, "I even tried
to swindle you. I think I did the trick very badly!"

Dunbar and Sowerby were staring at one another amazedly.

"It was in the corner of a public house billiard-room," added the
Frenchman, with twinkling eyes; "I adopted the ill-used name of Levinsky
on that occasion."...

Dunbar began to punch his left palm and to stride up and down the floor;
whilst Sowerby, his blue eyes opened quite roundly, watched M. Max as a
schoolboy watches an illusionist.

"Therefore," continued M. Max, "I