Dope by Sax Rohmer (desktop ebook reader txt) 📕

Sir Lucien came in he looked up, revealing a red-bearded, ugly face, very puffy under the eyes.

“Wotcher, Sin Sin!” he said gruffly. “Who's your long pal?”

“Friend,” murmured Sin Sin Wa complacently. “You gotchee pukka stuff thisee time, George?”

“I allus brings the pukka stuff!” roared the seaman, ceasing to fumble with the knots and glaring at Sin Sin Wa. “Wotcher mean—pukka stuff?”

“Gotchee no use for bran,” murmured Sin Sin Wa. “Gotchee no use for tin-tack. Gotchee no use for glue.”

“Bran!” roared the man, his glance and pose very menacing. “Tin-tacks and glue! Who the flamin' 'ell ever tried to sell you glue?”

“Me only wantchee lemindee you,” said Sin Sin Wa. “No pidgin.”

“George” glared for a moment, breathing heavily; then he stooped and resumed his task, Sin Sin Wa and Sir Lucien watching him in silence. A sound of lapping water was faintly audible.

Opening the canvas wrappings, the man began to take out and place upon the counter a number of reddish balls of “leaf” opium, varying in weight from about eight ounces to a pound or more.

“H'm!” murmured Sin Sin Wa. “Smyrna stuff.”

From a pocket of his pea-jacket he drew a long bodkin, and taking up one of the largest balls he thrust the bodkin in and then withdrew it, the steel stained a coffee color. Sin Sin Wa smelled and tasted the substance adhering to the bodkin, weighed the ball reflectively in his yellow palm, and then set it aside. He took up a second, whereupon:

“'Alf a mo', guvnor!” cried the seaman furiously. “D'you think I'm going to wait 'ere while you prods about in all the blasted lot? It's damn near high tide—I shan't get out. 'Alf time! Savvy? Shove it on the scales!”

Sin Sin Wa shook his head.

“Too muchee slick. Too muchee bhobbery,” he murmured. “Sin Sin Wa gotchee sabby what him catchee buy or no pidgin.”

“What's the game?” inquired George menacingly. “Don't you know a cake o' Smyrna when you smells it?”

“No sabby lead chop till ploddem withee dipper,” explained the Chinaman, imperturbably.

“Lead!” shouted the man. “There ain't no bloody lead in 'em!”

“H'm,” murmured Sin Sin Wa smilingly. “So fashion, eh? All velly proper.”

He calmly inserted the bodkin in the second cake; seemed to meet with some obstruction, and laid the ball down upon the counter. From beneath his jacket he took out a clasp-knife attached to a steel chain. Undeterred by a savage roar from the purveyor, he cut the sticky mass in half, and digging his long nails into one of the halves, brought out two lead shots. He directed a glance of his beady eye upon the man.

“Bloody liar,” he murmured sweetly. “Lobber.”

“Who's a robber?” shouted George, his face flushing darkly, and apparently not resenting the earlier innuendo; “Who's a robber?”

“One sarcee Smyrna feller packee stuff so fashion,” murmured Sin Sin Wa. “Thief-feller lobbee poor sailorman.”

George jerked his peaked cap from his head, revealing a tangle of unkempt red hair. He scratched his skull with savage vigor.

“Blimey!” he said pathetically. “'Ere's a go! I been done brown, guv'nor.”

“Lough luck,” murmured Sin Sin Wa, and resumed his examination of the cakes of opium.

The man watched him now in silence, only broken by exclamations of “Blimey” and “Flaming hell” when more shot was discovered. The tests concluded:

“Gotchee some more?” asked Sin Sin Wa.

From the canvas wrapping George took out and tossed on the counter a square packet wrapped in grease-paper.

“H'm,” murmured Sin Sin Wa, “Patna. Where you catchee?”

“Off of a lascar,” growled the man.

The cake of Indian opium was submitted to the same careful scrutiny as that which the balls of Turkish had already undergone, but the Patna opium proved to be unadulterated. Reaching over the counter Sin Sin Wa produced a pair of scales, and, watched keenly by George, weighed the leaf and then the cake.

“Ten-six Smyrna; one 'leben Patna,” muttered Sin Sin Wa. “You catchee eighty jimmies.”

“Eh?” roared George. “Eighty quid! Eighty quid! Flamin' blind o' Riley! D'you think I'm up the pole? Eighty quid? You're barmy!”

“Eighty-ten,” murmured Sin Sin Wa. “Eighty jimmies opium; ten bob lead.”

“I give more'n that for it!” cried the seaman. “An' I damn near hit a police boat comin' in, too!”

Sir Lucien spoke a few words rapidly in Chinese. Sin Sin Wa performed his curious oriental shrug, and taking a fat leather wallet from his hip-pocket, counted out the sum of eighty-five pounds upon the counter.

“You catchee eighty-five,” he murmured. “Too muchee price.”

The man grabbed the money and pocketed it without a word of acknowledgment. He turned and strode along the room, his heavy, iron-clamped boots ringing on the paved floor.

“Fetch a grim, Sin Sin,” he cried. “I'll never get out if I don't jump to it.”

Sin Sin Wa took the lantern from the counter and followed. Opening a door at the further end of the place, he set the lantern at the head of three descending wooden steps discovered. With the opening of the door the sound of lapping water had grown perceptibly louder. George clattered down the steps, which led to a second but much stouter door. Sin Sin Wa followed, nearly closing the first door, so that only a faint streak of light crept down to them.

The second door was opened, and the clangor of the Surrey shore suddenly proclaimed itself. Cold, damp air touched them, and the faint light of the lantern above cast their shadows over unctuous gliding water, which lapped the step upon which they stood. Slimy shapes uprose dim and ghostly from its darkly moving surface.

A boat was swinging from a ring beside the door, and into it George tumbled. He unhitched the lashings, and strongly thrust the boat out upon the water. Coming to the first of the dim shapes, he grasped it and thereby propelled the skiff to another beyond. These indistinct shapes were the piles supporting the structure of a wharf.

“Good night, guv'nor!” he cried hoarsely

“So-long,” muttered Sin Sin Wa.

He waited until the boat was swallowed in the deeper shadows, then reclosed the water-gate and ascended to the room where Sir Lucien awaited. Such was the receiving office of Sin Sin Wa. While the wharf remained untenanted it was not likely to be discovered by the authorities, for even at low tide the river-door was invisible from passing craft. Prospective lessees who had taken the