"I
don't know you."
The tea-maker thrust his head inside the room.
"He can't tell you anything," he said, with a grin. "He has been--what you
call on the break-out--with opium--ever so many days. He has--attacks that
way. Takes a fit of it--just as some of your people take to the drink.
He's coming out of it, now--and he'll be very, very unhappy tomorrow."
The Inspector twisted round on the informant.
"Look here!" he said. "Do you know how long he's been here--stupifying
himself? Is it a day--or days?"
One of the chess-players lifted a stolid face.
"He has been here--like that--several days," he said. "It's useless trying
to do anything with him when he takes the fit--the craving, you
understand?--into his head. If you want any information out of him, you'd
better call again in a few hours."
"Do you mean to tell me he's been here--like that--several days?" demanded
the Inspector.
"The young man with the tea-pot grinned again.
"He's never been at a class at the medical school since the 17th," he
announced. "I know that--he's in some classes with me. He's been here--all
the time since then.
Pages:
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352