The Limehouse Text by Will Thomas

Author:Will Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2006-10-06T04:00:00+00:00

18

A FEW HOURS LATER, THE MAID CAME UP THE stairs, interrupting my reverie. I had been sitting and staring into the fire in Barker’s hearth for who knows how long, worrying.

“Monsieur Llewelyn, there is a visitor.”

“Send him away,” I said. “There have been too many people up here already.”

“But he is not here to see M’sieur Barker. He wishes to see you.”

“Show him to the library, then. I shall be along in a few minutes.”

Who wished to speak with me? To tell the truth, I didn’t much care. I would go downstairs and tell whoever it was to go away. I wasn’t expecting a friend.

Israel Zangwill rose from the fireside chair in the library as I entered. His hat was on his knee, mottled with melting snow. It was early afternoon and yet Israel was here, instead of at his position at the Jews’ Free School.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I started a new position, Thomas. I have given up teaching,” he said, a smile on his Pucklike face. “I have become a reporter for the Jewish Chronicle.”

“That’s marvelous, Israel. Congratulations.” I shook his hand. “No more first period gymnastics for you now, eh?”

“Exactly. Who is the new maid in the hall and what has become of Mac?”

I explained the immediate situation and Israel took it all in.

“So he was attacked in Limehouse, you say. Does this have anything to do with a fellow named Mr. K’ing?”

“How on earth do you know about K’ing?” I asked. “His name is hardly spoken above a whisper.”

“I’ve been investigating him for an article after a few of our crowd lost a painful amount at fan-tan. I suppose telling the Chronicle was a way to get even.”

“You haven’t by chance been given a tour of Limehouse by an individual named Jimmy Woo?”

“‘Individual’ is a good word for him. Yes, that was me. He showed me all over the district until I mentioned Mr. K’ing. Then he shut up so tight I might as well have stuck a cork in his mouth.”

“K’ing has that effect on people. Woo says he doesn’t even exist.”

“He exists, all right. He owns an opium den in Pekin Street.”

“How did you come by that information?”

“I’m a reporter. I bought it. I thought your employer might be interested, though I didn’t know he was working on a similar case.”

“It’s just the sort of information he’s been looking for, but I doubt he’ll be up for several days, if at all. He hasn’t woken up since he was attacked.”

“Drat!” Zangwill said. “I spent my last shilling on the information and now I can’t even afford to get inside. You’re the only fellow I know with both the courage and the ready to go there with me.”

“I’m sorry, Israel, but I can’t leave Barker’s side, and, besides, you shouldn’t be going to an opium den. It’s dangerous and terribly addictive.”

“Oh, I’m going, all right. I have to. My employment depends upon it. I rather sold it to my editor, you know, ‘Sinister Oriental, pipe of poppy, white slave trade’ and all that.

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