Sam Tûk sank deeply into his chair, and his toothless jaws worked convulsively. The skinny hand which clutched the piece of tubing twitched and shook, so that the primitive deadly weapon fell from its wielder’s grasp. Silently, that set of empty shelves nearest to the inner wall of the vault slid open, and Sin Sin Wa came out. He, too, carried his hands tucked in his sleeves, and his yellow, pock-marked face wore its eternal smile. “Well done,” he crooned softly in Chinese. “Well done, bald father of wisdom. The dogs draw near, but the old fox sleeps not.” CHAPTER XXXVII. SETON PASHA REPORTS At about the time that the fearless Chief Inspector was entering the establishment of Sam Tûk Seton Pasha was reporting to Lord Wrexborough in Whitehall. His nautical disguise had served its purpose, and he had now finally abandoned it, recognizing that he had to deal with a criminal of genius to whom disguise merely afforded matter for amusement. In his proper person, as Greville Seton, he afforded a marked contrast to that John Smiles, seaman, who had sat in a top room in Limehouse with Chief Inspector Kerry. And although he had to report failure, the grim, bronzed face and bright grey eyes must have inspired in the heart of any thoughtful observer confidence in ultimate success. Lord Wrexborough, silver-haired, florid and dignified, sat before a vast table laden with neatly arranged dispatch-boxes, books, documents tied with red tape, and the other impressive impedimenta which characterize the table of a Secretary of State. Quentin Gray, unable to conceal his condition of nervous excitement, stared from a window down into Whitehall. “I take it, then, Seton,” Lord Wrexborough was saying, “that in your opinion—although perhaps it is somewhat hastily formed—there is and has been no connivance between officials and receivers of drugs?” “That is my opinion, sir. The traffic has gradually and ingeniously been ‘ringed’ by a wealthy group. Smaller dealers have been bought out or driven out, and today I believe it would be difficult, if not impossible, to obtain opium, cocaine, or veronal illicitly anywhere in London. Kazmah and Company had the available stock cornered. Of course, now that they are out of business, no doubt others will step in. It is a trade that can never be suppressed under existing laws.” “I see, I see,” muttered Lord Wrexborough, adjusting his pince-nez. “You also believe that Kazmah and Company are in hiding within what you term”—he consulted a written page—“the ‘Causeway area’? And you believe that the man called Sin Sin Wa is the head of the organization?”