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Tales of Chinatown

The House Of Golden Joss
I
THE BLOOD-STAINED IDOL
"Stop when we pass the next lamp and give me a light for my pipe."
"Why?"
"No! don't look round," warned my companion. "I think someone is following us.
And it is always advisable to be on guard in this neighbourhood."
We had nearly reached the house in Wade Street, Limehouse, which my friend
used as a base for East End operations. The night was dark but clear, and I
thought that presently when dawn came it would bring a cold, bright morning.
There was no moon, and as we passed the lamp and paused we stood in almost
total darkness.
Facing in the direction of the Council School I struck a match. It revealed my
ruffianly looking companion--in whom his nearest friends must have failed to
recognize Mr. Paul Harley of Chancery Lane.
He was glancing furtively back along the street, and when a moment later we
moved on, I too, had detected the presence of a figure stumbling toward us.
"Don't stop at the door," whispered Harley, for our follower was only a few yards
away.
Accordingly we passed the house in which Harley had rooms, and had
proceeded some fifteen paces farther when the man who was following us
stumbled in between Harley and myself, clutching an arm of either. I scarcely
knew what to expect, but was prepared for anything, when:
 
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