And as
the rest of them crowded after the Inspector, they saw why. This was a
small room, hung like the first one with curiously-figured curtains, and
lighted only by a sky-light, over which a square of blue stuff had been
draped. In the subdued life they saw that there was nothing in that room
but a lounge well fitted with soft cushions and pillows--and on it, his
spare figure wrapped in a loose gown, lay a young Chinaman, who, as the
foremost advanced upon him, blinked in their wondering faces out of eyes
the pupils of which were still contracted. Near him lay an opium pipe--
close by, on a tiny stand, the materials for more consumption of the drug.
The man who had accompanied the Inspector in his entrance to the tea-shop
strode forward and seized the recumbent figure by the shoulder, shaking
him gently.
"Now then!" he said, sharply, "wake up, my man! Are you Chang Li?"
The glazed eyes lifted themselves a little wonderingly; the dry lips
moved.
"Yes," he muttered. "Chang Li--yes. You want me?"
"How long have you been here?" demanded the questioner.
"How long--yes? Oh--I don't know. What do you want?" asked Chang Li.
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