Unknown (36 page)

I had little choice in the matter.

There was the smell of earth and a
musty odor that
suggested
the presence of the river, though the air was good and not damp. I
was guided out of the small cubi
cle
where I had evidently slept off some kind of narcotic
that
had rendered me instantly unconscious and help
less.
There was a smarting in my eyes, but the nausea
disappeared.
I could not fathom what kind of drug had
been
used upon me.

We were in a narrow corridor with
a dirt floor that
slanted
downward. There were doors on both sides at
regular
intervals marked with Chinese characters in a
garish
red paint. We came to a corner and a massive
hand
on my shoulder guided me to the left. I noted that
I
could have turned to the right as well. Wherever I
was,
and I suspected Limehouse, it was a labyrinth for
the
passageway split again before we came to a flight of
rickety
stairs. At the top, we passed through a curtain
and
into a sizeable room fitted with wooden benches
and
lit with gas jets. My guide extinguished the candle
he
had been carrying and unlocked a door on the far
side
of the room, gesturing for me to pass through it.
The
smell of incense assaulted my nostrils and I almost gagged, but the
moment passed.

I was in a small room, its walls
covered by tapestries. There were numerous candles and I noted the
illuminat
ing
flame of each was motionless, like those in a
church.
It had a hypnotic effect and I jerked my head to
dispell
the sleepy passivity induced. My guide crossed
the
room and drew aside a tapestry exposing a heavily
inlaid
wood paneling. He scratched against it and the
door
behind us swung shut. I could hear its lock click.
The
huge Chinaman slid the wood panel to one side and
indicated
that I was to enter, so I did.

I was in another room of unknown
size. Tapestries
hung
from ceiling to floor everywhere. Whether there
were
walls behind them or not was impossible to say. I heard the panel
close behind me. I stood ten feet from a sizeable table that was
elaborately carved. It could have
been
rosewood and it was oiled and polished to a sub
dued
sheen. Behind it in a high-backed chair sat a
Chinaman.
His Oriental robe fit tightly around his neck and tended to
slenderize his body. His face was a round
yellow
mask dominated by shrewd, slanting eyes. His
head
was domed and festooned with a few wisps of hair
and
from his chin hung two thin strands of white hair
quite
separated in the manner of some Chinese I had
seen.
While his white hair gave him a rather benevolent look, he did not
seem of great age, though I would have
been
hard-pressed to guess his years. His fingers were
long
and the nails were of unusual length. One hand
was
gently stroking a small-headed animal with a
pointed
muzzle, short legs, and a long, nervous tail. It
was
regarding me with bright, inquisitive eyes. I looked
at
the small beast with familiarity. ___.

"A very nice specimen.
Herpestes, of course. His
coat
is in excellent condition."

The Chinaman was surprised. "You
recognize a
mongoose?
But then, you were in service in India."

"I had that honor."

"Please be seated, Doctor
Watson," he said, indicat
ing
a chair, placed lower than his and so arranged that
the
light in the room was centered on it. When one is
associated
for so long with a detective, one becomes conscious of these things.
Also India, while not the Ori
ent,
makes one aware of the difference between East
and
West."

"I prefer to stand, a request
which I am sure Chu
San
Fu would not deny a guest in his establishment."

The Chinaman was forced to look
upward at me, a
fact
that nettled him though his impassive face gave no
indication.

"I am sorry that you have
been inconvenienced, Doc
tor
Watson."

He was prepared to continue in the
same vein but
one
cannot let that sort of thing go by. It is not the way
the
Empire survived.

"You are not sorry, at all.
In fact you're not the least
interested
in me. My abduction by your hirelings was
for
the sole purpose of supplying a tool to be used
against
Mr. Sherlock Holmes. You may find a sticky wicket there."

My interruption and, indeed,
entire manner was vexing to the man and he bit his lips in
annoyance, regret
ting
the act immediately. I shifted my position a bit to
one
side, forcing him to look in a new direction and,
since
I had moved nearer to his desk, he had to look
upward
even more. Chu San Fu continued to stroke his
mongoose,
but I noted that his other hand was near a
small
gong on his desk. A quick flick of his really ab
surd
fingernails would sound an alert to the giant on the other side of
the wooden panel or other henchmen lurking behind the
tapestries. I shook my head slightly.

"Really, sir, I am
considerably disappointed."

His eyes widened, indicating that
I still had him off
balance.
"You are disappointed in being here, of
course,
but
..."

"Piffle!" I said,
quickly. "I might just as well have
been
coshed by a ruffian or bagged, which is an expedience of the
American underworld. In any case, here I
stand
and no doubt you have an emissary even now
contacting
Holmes with dire threats regarding my
safety.
'Tis kidnaping, no more than that, a device of
the
criminally minded."

The Chinaman could not tolerate
the position he was in and rose, with an attempt at dignity, so that
his face
was on the
same level as my own.

"Doctor Watson, as you have
anticipated, you are
being
used as barter in a trade which I will propose to
Mr.
Holmes. Your stay in my—ah—establishment—
may
be for some time. Holmes is not without resources
and
he may delay the exchange by use of subterfuge.
There
is not reason that your sojourn should not be
pleasant."

Suddenly, he clapped his hands and
a portion of one
of
the hangings was raised. Two exquisite Chinese girls
stepped
into the room. They could not have been more
than
sixteen with smooth oval faces and docile almond eyes. Their robes
were of a tighter fit than is common, enhancing slim, nubile forms.

"Good food and spirits and
companionship can help
while
away the hours, Doctor."

This charlatan had the effrontery
to almost leer at
me,
as though we two men of the world understood
such
things. I drew myself up with an expression of
haughty
disdain.

"Sir, it is plain that we are
wasting time. You would, no doubt, like to hear my views as to what
Mr. Holmes has discovered and what his next steps might be. After my
return, that is. If I return," I added, before he could make
that obvious comment.

"Now, really," I
continued, before he could regain
the
initiative, "what would I, who am no more than a
biographer,
know of the workings of the greatest mind
in
England. If I did, do you honestly believe that I
would
reveal anything to you?" I tried to infuse that last
statement
with sufficient scorn. "This is England, sir. Here, we are made
of sterner stuff."

Chu San Fu angrily clapped his
hands and the two
girls
disappeared from view. How many other followers
were
lurking within earshot I shall never know but the
Oriental
looked as though he wished no one had been
present
during our interchange. He turned his back on
me
for a moment and I could see he was breathing
deeply.
Then he flicked a finger at the small gong on
his
desk and there was a treble-sounding chime. Imme
diately,
the panel through which I had entered slid
open.
My giant escort stood in the entrance with his
bulging
arms folded over his massive chest. Chu San Fu
turned
back toward me.

"You shall return to your
place of confinement and
we
will see what Mr. Holmes's next move will be."

"Whatever it is," I
replied, with considerable bra
vado,
"it will entail the element of surprise."

As I began to retrace my steps, I
noted a naked ex
pression
of worry in the Chinaman's eyes. Holmes had
been
right. Chu San Fu was a planner and a departure
from
the norm had thrown him off guard. I positively swaggered from the
room.

My huge guardian escorted me back
through the
maze of
underground passageways. It seemed that we
followed
the same route we had traversed before and I
was
struck again by the idea that this headquarters of
the
Oriental criminal was nothing more than a miniature underground
city. Other humans were present. I
could
sense it, but we saw no one as we trod the dirt
flooring
back to the cubicle in which I had awakened.
All
the tunnels must have required the labor of large
numbers
of people and I wondered how the excavated
dirt
was disposed of. The thought that Chu San Fu
might
have made use of an abandoned spur of the un
derground
crossed my mind and I made note to men
tion
it to Holmes as a possible clue to the whereabouts
of
this hideaway.

My captor waited till I had seated
myself in the cubicle and I sensed that he would assume guard
duties outside my tiny prison with the stoic patience of an
Orien
tal.
Suddenly, I thought of the cellar at 221B Baker
Street
and a huge Chinaman being disposed of by
Wakefield
Orloff.

"You have a brother?" I
asked, as my jailer prepared
to
leave.

Unwinking amber eyes regarded me
and his shaved
bullet
head moved in a slight nod.

"He is quite all right. In
good hands."

It may have been my imagination
but it seemed the amber eyes softened. Again, the giant turned to
leave. Before closing the door to my room, he glanced inside
again.
"You all light?"