“What! Do you think the man's story was true?”
“I think nothing. I am going to look at Kwen Lung's joss.”
Without another word he led the way downstairs and out into the deserted5 street. The first gray halftones of dawn were creeping into the sky, so that the outlines of Limehouse loomed6 like dim silhouettes7 about us. There was abundant evidence in the form of noises, strange and discordant8, that many workers were busy on dock and riverside, but the streets through which our course lay were almost empty. Sometimes a furtive9 shadow would move out of some black gully and fade into a dimly seen doorway10 in a manner peculiarly unpleasant and Asiatic. But we met no palpable pedestrian throughout the journey.
Before the door of a house in Pennyfields which closely resembled that which we had left in Wade13 Street, in that it was flatly uninteresting, dirty and commonplace, we paused. There was no sign of life about the place and no lights showed at any of the windows, which appeared as dim cavities—eyeless sockets14 in the gray face of the building, as dawn proclaimed the birth of a new day.
Harley seized the knocker and knocked sharply. There was no response, and he repeated the summons, but again without effect. Thereupon, with a muttered exclamation15, he grasped the knocker a third time and executed a veritable tattoo16 upon the door. When this had proceeded for about half a minute or more:
“All right, all right!” came a shaky voice from within. “I'm coming.”
Harley released the knocker, and, turning to me:
“Ma Lorenzo,” he whispered. “Don't make any mistakes.”
Indeed, even as he warned me, heralded17 by a creaking of bolts and the rattling18 of a chain, the door was opened by a fat, shapeless, half-caste woman of indefinite age; in whose dark eyes, now sunken in bloated cheeks, in whose full though drooping19 lips, and even in the whole overlaid contour of whose face and figure it was possible to recognize the traces of former beauty. This was Ma Lorenzo, who for many years had lived at that address with old Kwen Lung, of whom strange stories were told in Chinatown.
As Bill Jones, A.B., my friend, Paul Harley, was well known to Ma Lorenzo as he was well known to many others in that strange colony which clusters round the London docks. I sometimes enjoyed the privilege of accompanying my friend on a tour of investigation20 through the weird21 resorts which abound22 in that neighbourhood, and, indeed, we had been returning from one of these Baghdad nights when our present adventure had been thrust upon us. Assuming a wild and boisterous23 manner which he had at command:
“'Urry up, Ma!” said Harley, entering without ceremony; “I want to introduce my pal12 Jim 'ere to old Kwen Lung, and make it all right for him before I sail.”
“This no time to come waking me up out of bed!”
But Harley, brushing past her, was already inside the stuffy25 little room, and I hastened to follow.
“Kwen Lung!” shouted my friend loudly. “Where are you? Brought a friend to see you.”
“Kwen Lung no hab,” came the complaining tones of Ma Lorenzo from behind us.
It was curious to note how long association with the Chinese had resulted in her catching26 the infection of that pidgin-English which is a sort of esperanto in all Asiatic quarters.
“Eh!” cried my friend, pushing open a door on the right of the passage and stumbling down three worn steps into a very evil-smelling room. “Where is he?”
“Go play fan-tan. Not come back.”
Ma Lorenzo, having relocked the street door, had rejoined us, and as I followed my friend down into the dim and uninviting apartment she stood at the top of the steps, hands on hips27, regarding us.
The place, which was quite palpably an opium28 den4, must have disappointed anyone familiar with the more ornate houses of Chinese vice29 in San Francisco and elsewhere. The bare floor was not particularly clean, and the few decorations which the room boasted were garishly30 European for the most part. A deep divan31, evidently used sometimes as a bed, occupied one side of the room, and just to the left of the steps reposed32 the only typically Oriental object in the place.
It was a strange thing to see in so sordid33 a setting; a great gilded34 joss, more than life-size, squatting35, hideous36, upon a massive pedestal; a figure fit for some native temple but strangely out of place in that dirty little Limehouse abode37.
I had never before visited Kwen Lung's, but the fame of his golden joss had reached me, and I know that he had received many offers for it, all of which he had rejected. It was whispered that Kwen Lung was rich, that he was a great man among the Chinese, and even that some kind of religious ceremony periodically took place in his house. Now, as I stood staring at the famous idol38, I saw something which made me stare harder than ever.
The place was lighted by a hanging lamp from which depended bits of coloured paper and several gilded silk tassels39; but dim as the light was it could not conceal40 those tell-tale stains.
There was blood on the feet of the golden idol!
All this I detected at a glance, but ere I had time to speak:
“You can't tell me that tale, Ma!” cried Harley. “I believe 'e was smokin' in 'ere when we knocked.”
“No, hab,” she repeated. “You two johnnies clear out. Let me sleep.”
But as I turned to her, beneath the nonchalant manner I could detect a great uneasiness; and in her dark eyes there was fear. That Harley also had seen the bloodstains I was well aware, and I did not doubt that furthermore he had noted42 the fact that the only mat which the room boasted had been placed before the joss—doubtless to hide other stains upon the boards.
As we stood so I presently became aware of a current of air passing across the room in the direction of the open door. It came from a window before which a tawdry red curtain had been draped. Either the window behind the curtain was wide open, which is alien to Chinese habits, or it was shattered. While I was wondering if Harley intended to investigate further:
“Come on, Jim!” he cried boisterously43, and clapped me on the shoulder; “the old fox don't want to be disturbed.”
He turned to the woman:
“Tell him when he wakes up, Ma,” he said, “that if ever my pal Jim wants a pipe he's to 'ave one. Savvy44? Jim's square.”
“Savvy,” replied the woman, and she was wholly unable to conceal her relief. “You clear out now, and I tell Kwen Lung when he come in.”
“Righto, Ma!” said Harley. “Kiss 'im on both cheeks for me, an' tell 'im I'll be 'ome again in a month.”
Grasping me by the arm he lurched up the steps, and the two of us presently found ourselves out in the street again. In the growing light the squalor of the district was more evident than ever, but the comparative freshness of the air was welcome after the reek45 of that room in which the golden idol sat leering, with blood at his feet.
“You saw, Harley?” I exclaimed excitedly. “You saw the stains? And I'm certain the window was broken!”
Harley nodded shortly.
“Back to Wade Street!” he said. “I allow myself fifteen minutes to shed Bill Jones, able seaman46, and to become Paul Harley, of Chancery Lane.”
As we hurried along:
“What steps shall you take?” I asked.
“First step: search Kwen Lung's house from cellar to roof. Second step: entirely47 dependent upon result of first. The Chinese are subtle, Knox. If Kwen Lung has killed his daughter, it may require all the resources of Scotland Yard to prove it.”
“But———”
“There is no 'but' about it. Chinatown is the one district of London which possesses the property of swallowing people up.”
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1
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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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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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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6
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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7
silhouettes
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| 轮廓( silhouette的名词复数 )； （人的）体形； （事物的）形状； 剪影 | |
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8
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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10
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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13
wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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15
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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heralded
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| v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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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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abound
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| vi.大量存在；(in，with)充满，富于 | |
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boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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27
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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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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garishly
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| adv.鲜艳夺目地，俗不可耐地；华丽地 | |
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divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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39
tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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40
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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41
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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42
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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43
boisterously
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| adv.喧闹地，吵闹地 | |
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44
savvy
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| v.知道，了解；n.理解能力，机智，悟性；adj.有见识的，懂实际知识的，通情达理的 | |
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45
reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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46
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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47
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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