"So you hear nothing, and see nothing?"
The words were spoken even more softly than he had spoken hitherto.
"Nothing," protested Soames. He suddenly began to tremble anew, and his
trembling rattled the bed. "I have been--very ill indeed, sir."
Ho-Pin nodded again slowly, and with deep sympathy.
"Some medicine shall be sent to you, Mr. Soames," he said.
He turned and went out slowly, closing the door behind him.
XX
ABRAHAM LEVINSKY BUTTS IN
At about the time that this conversation was taking place in Ho-Pin's
catacombs, Detective-Inspector Dunbar and Detective-Sergeant Sowerby
were joined by a third representative of New Scotland Yard at the
appointed spot by the dock gates. This was Stringer, the detective to
whom was assigned the tracing of the missing Soames; and he loomed up
through the rain-mist, a glistening but dejected figure.
"Any luck?" inquired Sowerby, sepulchrally.
Stringer, a dark and morose looking man, shook his head.
"I've beaten up every 'Chink' in Wapping and Limehouse, I should
reckon," he said, plaintively. "They're all as innocent as babes unborn.
You can take it from me: Chinatown hasn't got a murder on its conscience
at present. BRR! it's a beastly night. Suppose we have one?"
Dunbar nodded, and the three wet investigators walked back for some
little distance in silence, presently emerging via a narrow, dark,
uninviting alleyway into West India Dock Road.
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