"
The Inspector turned sharply on Ayscough.
"The 17th!" he exclaimed. "And that affair was on the 18th! Then--"
Chang Li was fumbling in a pocket of his gown. He found something there,
raised a hand to his lips, swallowed something. And in a few seconds, as
his eyes grew brighter, he turned a suspicious and sullen glance on the
group which stood watching him.
"What do you want?" he growled. "Who are you?"
"We want some information from you," said the Inspector. "When did you
last see your brother, or friend, or whatever he is--Chen Li?"
Chang Li shook his head--it was obvious that he had no clear recollection.
"Don't know," he answered. "Perhaps just now--perhaps tomorrow--perhaps
not for a long time."
"When were you last at home--in Maida Vale?" asked the Inspector.
But Chang Li gave no answer to that beyond a frown, and it was evident
that as his wits cleared his temper was becoming ugly. He began to look
round with more intelligence, scanning one face after another with growing
dislike, and presently he muttered certain observations to himself which,
though not in English, sounded anything but complimentary to those who
watched him.
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