Chang Li shook his head--it was obvious that he had no clear recollection. "Don't know," he answered. "Perhaps just now--perhaps tomorrow--perhaps not for a long time." "When were you last at home--in Maida Vale?" asked the Inspector. But Chang Li gave no answer to that beyond a frown, and it was evident that as his wits cleared his temper was becoming ugly. He began to look round with more intelligence, scanning one face after another with growing dislike, and presently he muttered certain observations to himself which, though not in English, sounded anything but complimentary to those who watched him. And Ayscough suddenly turned to the superior officials. "If this man's been here ever since the 17th," he said, "he can't have had anything to do with the affairs in Praed Street and Maida Vale! Supposing, now--I'm only supposing--that young Jap's been lying all the time?" He turned again--this time on the two chess-players, who had now interrupted their game and were leaning back in their chairs, evidently amused at the baffled faces of the searchers. "Here!" he said, "do you know one Yada--Mori Yada--a Japanese? Is he one of you?" "Oh, yes!" answered one of the chess-players. "Yada,--yes! We know him--a very smart fellow, Yada. You know him--too?" But before Ayscough could reply to this somewhat vexatious question, a man who had been left in the tearooms came hurrying up the staircase and burst in upon them. He made straight for the Inspector. "Man from the office, sir, outside in a taxi!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "You're on the wrong track--you're to get to Multenius's shop in Praed Street at once. The real man's there!" CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT THE JEW AND THE JAP When Melky Rubinstein slipped quietly out of the police-station, he crossed the street, and taking up a position just within a narrow alley on the other side, set himself to watch the door which he had just quitted. There was a deep design in his mind, and he meant to carry it out--alone. Mr. Mori Yada, apparently as cool and unconcerned as ever, presently tripped down the steps of the police-station and went leisurely off, swinging his neatly rolled umbrella. As long as he was within sight of the police-station windows he kept up the same gentle pace--but as soon as he had turned the first corner his steps were quickened, and he made for a spot to which Melky had expected him to make--a cab-rank, on which two or three taxi-cabs were drawn up. He had reached the first, and was addressing the driver, when Melky, who had kept a few yards in the rear, stole gently up to his side and tapped him on the shoulder. "Mister!" said Melky. "A word--in private!" Yada turned on his interrupter with the swiftness of a snake, and for a second his white teeth showed themselves in an unmistakable snarl, and a savage gleam came into his dark eyes. Both snarl and gleam passed as quickly as they had come, and the next instant he was smiling--as blandly as ever.