“But yes, my dear Inspector--he is safe; oh! he is quite safe. And on Tuesday night he is going to introduce us to Mr. King!” “MR. KING!” roared Dunbar; and in three strides of the long legs he was around the table and standing before the Frenchman. In passing he swept Sowerby's hat on to the floor, and Sowerby, picking it up, began mechanically to brush it with his left sleeve, smoking furiously the while. “Soames,” continued M. Max, quietly--“he is now known as Lucas, by the way--is a man of very remarkable character; a fact indicated by his quite unusual skull. He has no more will than this cigar”--he held the cigar up between his fingers, illustratively--“but of stupid pig obstinacy, that canaille--saligaud!--has enough for all the cattle in Europe! He is like a man who knows that he stands upon a sinking ship, yet, who whilst promising to take the plunge every moment, hesitates and will continue to hesitate until someone pushes him in. Pardieu! I push! Because of his pig obstinacy I am compelled to take risks most unnecessary. He will not consent, that Soames, to open the door for us...” “What door?” snapped Dunbar. “The door of the establishment of Mr. King,” explained Max, blandly. “But where is it?” “It is somewhere between Limehouse Causeway--is it not called so?--and the riverside. But although I have been there, myself, I can tell you no more....” “What! you have been there yourself?” “But yes--most decidedly. I was there some nights ago. But they are ingenious, ah! they are so ingenious!--so Chinese! I should not have known even the little I do know if it were not for the inquiries which I made last week. I knew that the letters to Mr. Leroux which were supposed to come from Paris were handed by Soames to some one who posted them to Paris from Bow, East. You remember how I found the impression of the postmark?” Dunbar nodded, his eyes glistening; for that discovery of the Frenchman's had filled him with a sort of envious admiration. “Well, then,” continued Max, “I knew that the inquiry would lead me to your east-end, and I suspected that I was dealing with Chinamen; therefore, suitably attired, of course, I wandered about in those interesting slums on more than one occasion; and I concluded that the only district in which a Chinaman could live without exciting curiosity was that which lies off the West India Dock Road.”... Dunbar nodded significantly at Sowerby, as who should say: “What did I tell you about this man?” “On one of these visits,” continued the Frenchman, and a smile struggled for expression upon his mobile lips, “I met you two gentlemen with a Mr.--I think he is called Stringer--“... “You met US!” exclaimed Sowerby. “My sense of humor quite overcoming me,” replied M. Max, “I even tried to swindle you. I think I did the trick very badly!” Dunbar and Sowerby were staring at one another amazedly.