He remembered, too, something which his fearless nature had prompted him to forget: he remembered how, just as he had arisen from beside the body of the murdered man, oblique eyes had regarded him swiftly out of the fog. He had lashed out with a boxer's instinct, but his knuckles had encountered nothing but empty air. No sound had come to tell him that the thing had not been an illusion. Only, once again, as he groped his way through the shuttered streets of Chinatown and the silence of the yellow mist, something had prompted him to turn; and again he had detected the glint of oblique eyes, and faintly had discerned the form of one who followed him. Kerry chewed viciously, then: “I think I'll 'phone the wife,” he said abruptly. “She'll be expecting me.” Almost before he had finished speaking the 'phone bell rang, and a few moments later: “Someone to speak to you, Chief Inspector,” cried the officer in charge. “Ah!” exclaimed Kerry, his fierce eyes lighting up. “That will be from home.” “I don't think so,” was the reply. “But see who it is.” “Hello!” he called. He was answered by an unfamiliar voice, a voice which had a queer, guttural intonation. It was the sort of voice he had learned to loathe. “Is that Chief Inspector Kerry?” “Yes,” he snapped. “May I take it that what I have to say will be treated in confidence?” “Certainly not.” “Think again, Chief Inspector,” the voice continued. “You are a man within sight of the ambition of years, and although you may be unaware of the fact, you stand upon the edge of a disaster. I appreciate your sense of duty and respect it. But there are times when diplomacy is a more potent weapon than force.” Kerry, listening, became aware that the speaker was a man of cultured intellect. He wondered greatly, but: “My time is valuable,” he said rapidly. “Come to the point. What do you want and who are you?” “One moment, Chief Inspector. An opportunity to make your fortune without interfering with your career has come in your way. You have obtained possession of what you believe to be a clue to a murder.” The voice ceased, and Kerry remaining silent, immediately continued: “Knowing your personal character, I doubt if you have communicated the fact of your possessing this evidence to anyone else. I suggest, in your own interests, that before doing so you interview me.” Kerry thought rapidly, and then: “I don't say you're right,” he rapped back. “But if I come to see you, I shall leave a sealed statement in possession of the officer in charge here.” “To this I have no objection,” the guttural voice replied, “but I beg of you to bring the evidence with you.” “I'm not to be bought,” warned Kerry. “Don't think it and don't suggest it, or when I get to you I'll break you in half.” His red moustache positively bristled, and he clutched the receiver so tightly that it quivered against his ear.