A very fine rain was falling, which rendered it difficult to see clearly from the windows; but the weather apparently2 had little effect upon the commercial activities of the district. The cab was threading a hazardous4 way through the cosmopolitan5 throng6 crowding the street. On either side of me extended a row of stalls, seemingly established in opposition7 to the more legitimate8 shops upon the inner side of the pavement.
Jewish hawkers, many of them in their shirt-sleeves, acclaimed9 the rarity of the bargains which they had to offer; and, allowing for the difference of costume, these tireless Israelites, heedless of climatic conditions, sweating at their mongery,
[83]
might well have stood, not in a squalid London thoroughfare, but in an equally squalid market-street of the Orient.
They offered linen10 and fine raiment; from foot-gear to hair-oil their wares11 ranged. They enlivened their auctioneering with conjuring12 tricks and witty13 stories, selling watches by the aid of legerdemain14, and fancy vests by grace of a seasonable anecdote15.
Poles, Russians, Serbs, Roumanians, Jews of Hungary, and Italians of Whitechapel mingled16 in the throng. Near East and Far East rubbed shoulders. Pidgin English contested with Yiddish for the ownership of some tawdry article offered by an auctioneer whose nationality defied conjecture17, save that always some branch of his ancestry18 had drawn19 nourishment20 from the soil of Eternal Judæa.
Some wearing men's caps, some with shawls thrown over their oily locks, and some, more true to primitive21 instincts, defying, bare-headed, the unkindly elements, bedraggled women—more often than not burdened with muffled23 infants—crowded the pavements and the roadway, thronged24 about the stalls like white ants about some choicer carrion25.
And the fine drizzling26 rain fell upon all alike, pattering upon the hood27 of the taxi-cab; trickling28 down the front windows; glistening29 upon the unctuous30 hair of those in the street who were hatless; dewing the bare arms of the auctioneers, and dripping, melancholy31, from the tarpaulin32 coverings of the stalls. Heedless of the rain above and of the mud beneath, North, South, East and West mingled their cries, their bids, their blandishments, their raillery, mingled their persons in that joyless throng.
Sometimes a yellow face showed close to one of the streaming windows; sometimes a black-eyed, pallid33 face, but never a face wholly sane34 and healthy. This was an underworld where squalor and vice35 went hand in hand through the beautiless streets, a melting
[84]
-pot of the world's outcasts; this was the shadowland which last night had swallowed up Nayland Smith.
Ceaselessly I peered to right and left, searching amid that rain-soaked company for any face known to me. Whom I expected to find there, I know not, but I should have counted it no matter for surprise had I detected amid that ungracious ugliness the beautiful face of Kâramanèh, the Eastern slave-girl, the leering yellow face of a Burmese dacoit, the gaunt, bronze features of Nayland Smith; a hundred times I almost believed that I had seen the ruddy countenance36 of Inspector Weymouth, and once (at what instant my heart seemed to stand still) I suffered from the singular delusion37 that the oblique38 green eyes of Dr. Fu-Manchu peered out from the shadows between two stalls.
It was mere39 phantasy, of course, the sick imaginings of a mind overwrought. I had not slept and had scarcely tasted food for more than thirty hours; for, following up a faint clue supplied by Burke, Slattin's man, and, like his master, an ex-officer of New York Police, my friend, Nayland Smith, on the previous evening, had set out in quest of some obscene den22 where the man called Shen-Yan—former keeper of an opium40 shop—was now said to be in hiding. Shen-Yan we knew to be a creature of the Chinese doctor, and only a most urgent call had prevented me from joining Smith upon this promising41, though hazardous expedition.
At any rate, Fate willing it so, he had gone without me; and now—although Inspector Weymouth, assisted by a number of C.I.D. men, was sweeping42 the district about me—to the time of my departure nothing whatever had been heard of Smith. The ordeal43 of waiting finally had proved too great to be borne. With no definite idea of what I proposed to do, I had thrown myself into the search, filled with such dreadful apprehensions45 as I hope never again to experience.
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I did not know the exact situation of the place to which Smith was gone, for owing to the urgent case which I have mentioned, I had been absent at the time of his departure; nor could Scotland Yard enlighten me upon this point. Weymouth was in charge of the case—under Smith's direction—and since the inspector had left the Yard, early that morning, he had disappeared as completely as Smith, no report having been received from him.
As my driver turned into the black mouth of a narrow, ill-lighted street, and the glare and clamour of the greater thoroughfare died behind me, I sank into the corner of the cab burdened with such a sense of desolation as mercifully comes but rarely.
We were heading now for that strange settlement off the West India Dock Road, which, bounded by Limehouse Causeway and Pennyfields, and narrowly confined within four streets, composes an unique Chinatown, a miniature of that at Liverpool, and of the greater one in San Francisco. Inspired with an idea which promised hopefully, I raised the speaking-tube:
"Take me first to the River Police Station," I directed; "along Ratcliffe Highway."
Presently we swerved47 to the right and into an even narrower street. This inclined in an easterly direction, and proved to communicate with a wide thoroughfare along which passed brilliantly lighted electric trams. I had lost all sense of direction, and when, swinging to the left and to the right again, I looked through the window and perceived that we were before the door of the Police Station, I was dully surprised.
In quite mechanical fashion I entered the depôt. Inspector Ryman, our associate in one of the darkest episodes of the campaign with the Yellow Doctor two years before, received me in his office.
[86]
By a negative shake of the head, he answered my unspoken question.
"The ten o'clock boat is lying off the Stone Stairs, doctor," he said, "and co-operating with some of the Scotland Yard men who are dragging that district—"
I shuddered48 at the word "dragging"; Ryman had not used it literally49, but nevertheless it had conjured50 up a dread44 possibility—a possibility in accordance with the methods of Dr. Fu-Manchu. All within space of an instant I saw the tide of Limehouse Reach, the Thames lapping about the green-coated timbers of a dock pier51; and rising—falling—sometimes disclosing to the pallid light a rigid52 hand, sometimes a horribly bloated face—I saw the body of Nayland Smith at the mercy of those oily waters. Ryman continued:
"There is a launch out, too, patrolling the riverside from here to Tilbury. Another lies at the breakwater." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Should you care to take a run down and see for yourself?"
"No, thanks," I replied, shaking my head. "You are doing all that can be done. Can you give me the address of the place to which Mr. Smith went last night?"
"Certainly," said Ryman; "I thought you knew it. You remember Shen-Yan's place—by Limehouse Basin? Well, farther east—east of the Causeway, between Gill Street and Three Colt Street—is a block of wooden buildings. You recall them?"
"Yes," I replied. "Is the man established there again, then?"
"It appears so, but although you have evidently not been informed of the fact, Weymouth raided the establishment in the early hours of this morning!"
"Well?" I cried.
"Unfortunately with no result," continued the inspector. "The notorious Shen-Yan was missing,
[87]
and although there is no real doubt that the place is used as a gaming-house, not a particle of evidence to that effect could be obtained. Also—there was no sign of Mr. Nayland Smith, and no sign of the American Burke, who had led him to the place."
"Is it certain that they went there?"
"Two C.I.D. men, who were shadowing, actually saw the pair of them enter. A signal had been arranged, but it was never given; and at about half-past four the place was raided."
"Surely some arrests were made?"
"But there was no evidence!" cried Ryman. "Every inch of the rat-burrow was searched. The Chinese gentleman who posed as the proprietor53 of what he claimed to be a respectable lodging-house, offered every facility to the police. What could we do?"
"I take it that the place is being watched?"
"Certainly," said Ryman. "Both from the river and from the shore. Oh! they are not there! God knows where they are, but they are not there!"
I stood for a moment in silence, endeavouring to determine my course; then, telling Ryman that I hoped to see him later, I walked out slowly into the rain and mist, and nodding to the taxi-driver to proceed to our original destination, I re-entered the cab.
As we moved off, the lights of the River Police depôt were swallowed up in the humid murk, and again I found myself being carried through the darkness of those narrow streets, which, like a maze54, hold secret within their Labyrinth55 mysteries great, and at least as foul56, as that of Parsiphaë.
The marketing57 centres I had left far behind me; to my right stretched the broken range of riverside buildings, and beyond them flowed the Thames, a stream heavily burdened with secrets as ever were Tiber or Tigris. On my left, occasional flickering58 lights broke through the mist, for the most part the
[88]
lights of taverns59; and saving these rents in the veil, the darkness was punctuated60 with nothing but the faint and yellow luminance of the street lamps.
Ahead was a black mouth, which promised to swallow me up as it had swallowed up my friend.
In short, what with my lowered condition, and consequent frame of mind, and what with the traditions, for me inseparable from that gloomy quarter of London, I was in the grip of a shadowy menace which at any moment might become tangible61—I perceived, in the most commonplace objects, the yellow hand of Dr. Fu-Manchu.
When the cab stopped in a place of utter darkness, I aroused myself with an effort, opened the door, and stepped out into the mud of a narrow lane. A high brick wall frowned upon me from one side, and, dimly perceptible, there towered a smoke stack beyond. On my right uprose the side of a wharf62 building, shadowly, and some distance ahead, almost obscured by the drizzling rain, a solitary63 lamp flickered64.
"You will wait here," I said to the man; and, feeling in my breast-pocket, I added: "If you hear the note of a whistle, drive on and rejoin me."
He listened attentively66 and with a certain eagerness. I had selected him that night for the reason that he had driven Smith and myself on previous occasions and had proved himself a man of intelligence. Transferring a Browning pistol from my hip-pocket to that of my raincoat, I trudged67 on into the mist.
The headlights of the taxi were swallowed up behind me, and just abreast68 of the street lamp I stood listening.
Save for the dismal69 sound of rain, and the trickling of water along the gutters70, all about me was silent. Sometimes this silence would be broken by the distant,
[89]
muffled note of a steam siren; and always, forming a sort of background to the near stillness, was the remote din3 of riverside activity.
I walked on to the corner just beyond the lamp. This was the street in which the wooden buildings were situated71. I had expected to detect some evidences of surveillance, but if any were indeed being observed, it was effectively masked. Not a living creature was visible, peer as I would.
Plans I had none, and perceiving that the street was empty, and that no lights showed in any of the windows, I passed on, only to find that I had entered a cul-de-sac.
A rickety gate gave access to a descending72 flight of stone steps, the bottom invisible in the denser73 shadows of an archway, beyond which, I doubted not, lay the river.
Still uninspired by any definite design, I tried the gate and found that it was unlocked. Like some wandering soul, as it has since seemed to me, I descended74. There was a lamp over the archway, but the glass was broken, and the rain apparently had extinguished the light; as I passed under it, I could hear the gas whistling from the burner.
Continuing my way, I found myself upon a narrow wharf with the Thames flowing gloomily beneath me. A sort of fog hung over the river, shutting me in. Then came an incident.
Suddenly, quite near, there arose a weird75 and mournful cry—a cry indescribable, and inexpressibly uncanny!
I started back so violently that how I escaped falling into the river I do not know to this day. That cry, so eerie76 and so wholly unexpected, had unnerved me; and realizing the nature of my surroundings, and the folly77 of my presence alone in such a place, I began to edge back towards the foot of the steps, away from the thing that cried; when
[90]
There are few men, I suppose, whose lives have been crowded with so many eerie happenings as mine, but this phantom thing which grew out of the darkness, which seemed about to envelop79 me, takes rank in my memory amongst the most fearsome apparitions80 which I have witnessed.
I know that I was frozen with a sort of supernatural terror. I stood there, my hands clenched81, staring—staring—at that white shape, which seemed to float.
And as I stared, every nerve in my body thrilling, I distinguished82 the outline of the phantom. With a subdued83 cry, I stepped forward. A new sensation claimed me. In that one stride I passed from the horrible to the bizarre.
I found myself confronted with something tangible certainly, but something whose presence in that place was utterly84 extravagant—could only be reconcilable in the dreams of an opium slave.
Was I awake? was I sane? Awake and sane beyond doubt, but surely moving, not in the purlieus of Limehouse, but in the fantastic realms of fairyland.
Swooping85, with open arms, I rounded up in an angle against the building and gathered in this screaming thing which had inspired in me so keen a terror.
The great, ghostly fan was closed as I did so, and I stumbled back towards the stair with my struggling captive tucked under my arm; I mounted into one of London's darkest slums, carrying a beautiful white peacock!
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1
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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4
hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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5
cosmopolitan
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| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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8
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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9
acclaimed
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| adj.受人欢迎的 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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11
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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conjuring
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| n.魔术 | |
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13
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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14
legerdemain
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| n.戏法，诈术 | |
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15
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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16
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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17
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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18
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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21
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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23
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
carrion
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| n.腐肉 | |
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drizzling
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| 下蒙蒙细雨，下毛毛雨( drizzle的现在分词 ) | |
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27
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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28
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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29
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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30
unctuous
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| adj.油腔滑调的，大胆的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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32
tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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36
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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oblique
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| adj.斜的，倾斜的，无诚意的，不坦率的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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41
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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42
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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45
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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47
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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49
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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50
conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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51
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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52
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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53
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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54
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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55
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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56
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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57
marketing
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| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
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58
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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59
taverns
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| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
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60
punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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61
tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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62
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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63
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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64
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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66
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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67
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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68
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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69
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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70
gutters
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| （路边）排水沟( gutter的名词复数 )； 阴沟； （屋顶的）天沟； 贫贱的境地 | |
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71
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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72
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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73
denser
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| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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74
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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75
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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76
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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77
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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78
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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envelop
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| vt.包，封，遮盖；包围 | |
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80
apparitions
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| n.特异景象( apparition的名词复数 )；幽灵；鬼；（特异景象等的）出现 | |
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81
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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83
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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84
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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85
swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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