Then the man of the tea-pot spoke--one word.
"Yes?" he said.
"The fact is, Mister," said the elder Pilmansey, "these are police-
officers. They want one of your friends--Mr. Chang Li."
The three occupants of the room appeared to pay no attention. The chess-
players went on playing; the other man reached for a canister, and
mechanically emptied tea out of it into his pot.
"Shut and lock that door, Ayscough," said the Inspector. "Let somebody
stand by it. Now," he continued, turning to the three Chinese, "is one of
you gentlemen Mr. Chang Li?"
"No!" replied one of the chess-players. "Not one of us!"
"Is he here?" demanded the Inspector. Then seeing that he was to be met by
Oriental impassivity, he turned to the Pilmanseys. "What other rooms are
there here?" he asked.
"Two," answered the elder brother, pointing to the curtains at the rear of
the room. "One there--the other there. Behind those hangings--two smaller
rooms."
The Inspector strode forward and tore the curtains aside. He flung open
the first of the doors--and started back, catching his breath.
"Phew!" he said.
The heavy, narcotic odour which Purdie had noticed at once on entering the
rooms came afresh, out of the newly-opened door, in a thick wave.
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