He raised his hand to his shoulder and the raven stepped sedately from shoulder to wrist. Sin Sin Wa stooped. “Come, Tling-a-Ling,” he said softly. “You catchee sleepee.” The raven stepped down from his wrist and walked into the cupboard. “So fashion, lo!” said Sin Sin Wa, closing the door. He seated himself upon a tea-chest beside the useful cupboard, resting his hands upon his knees and smiling. Kerry, chewing steadily, had watched the proceedings in silence, but now: “Constable Bryce,” he said crisply, “you recognize this man as Sin Sin Wa, the occupier of the house?” “Yes, sir,” replied Bryce. He was not wholly at ease, and persistently avoided the Chinaman’s oblique, beady eye. “In the ordinary course of your duty you frequently pass along this street?” “It’s the limit of the Limehouse beat, sir. Poplar patrols on the other side.” “So that at this point, or hereabout, you would sometimes meet the constable on the next beat?” “Well, sir,” Bryce hesitated, clearing his throat, “this street isn’t properly in his district.” “I didn’t say it was!” snapped Kerry, glaring fiercely at the embarrassed constable. “I said you would sometimes meet him here.” “Yes, sometimes.” “Sometimes. Right. Did you ever come in here?” The constable ventured a swift glance at the savage red face, and: “Yes, sir, now and then,” he confessed. “Just for a warm on a cold night, maybe.” “Allee velly welcome,” murmured Sin Sin Wa. Kerry never for a moment removed his fixed gaze from the face of Bryce. “Now, my lad,” he said, “I’m going to ask you another question. I’m not saying a word about the warm on a cold night. We’re all human. But—did you ever see or hear or smell anything suspicious in this house?” “Never,” affirmed the constable earnestly. “Did anything ever take place that suggested to your mind that Sin Sin Wa might be concealing something—upstairs, for instance?” “Never a thing, sir. There’s never been a complaint about him.” “Allee velly proper,” crooned Sin Sin Wa. Kerry stared intently for some moments at Bryce; then, turning suddenly to Sin Sin Wa: “I want to see your wife,” he said. “Fetch her.” Sin Sin Wa gently patted his knees. “She velly bad woman,” he declared. “She no hate topside pidgin.” “Don’t talk!” shouted Kerry. “Fetch her!” Sin Sin Wa turned his hands palms upward. “Me no hate gotchee wifee,” he murmured. Kerry took one pace forward. “Fetch her,” he said; “or—” He drew a pair of handcuffs from the pocket of his oilskin. “Velly bad luck,” murmured Sin Sin Wa. “Catchee trouble for wifee no got.” He extended his wrists, meeting the angry glare of the Chief Inspector with a smile of resignation. Kerry bit savagely at his chewing-gum, glancing aside at Bryce. “Did you ever see his wife?” he snapped. “No, sir. I didn’t know he had one.” “No habgotchee,” murmured Sin Sin Wa, “velly bad woman.”