Also he caught something of what that
Englishman said. He was telling Chen Li that he'd better take him, the
Englishman, inside, and settle with him--or things would be all the worse.
And at that, he, Yada, had slipped into the house, quietly closed the
front door behind him, gone into the front room, hidden himself behind a
curtain and waited.
Into that front room, Chen Li had presently conducted a man. He was, said
Yada, a low-class Englishman--what is called a Cockney. He had begun to
threaten Chen Li at once. He told his tale. He was, said this fellow, next
door neighbour to Mr. Daniel Multenius, in Praed Street, Chen Li's
landlord: his name, if Chen Li wanted to know it, was Parslett, fruitier
and green-grocer, and it was there, bold as brass, over his shop-door, for
him or anybody to look at. He had a side-door to his house: that side-door
was exactly opposite a side-door in Mr. Multenius's house, opening into
his back-parlour. Now, the previous afternoon, he, Parslett, had had a
consignment of very fine mushrooms sent in--rare things at that time of
year--and knowing that the old man had a great taste for them and didn't
mind what price he paid, he stepped across with a dish of them to tempt
him.
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