They're holding him at Limehouse Station, and the theory is
that he was operating with------" He nodded in the direction of
the body.
"Then who's the smart with the swollen face?" inquired Kerry.
"He's a new one on me."
"Yes, but he's been identified by one of the K Division men. He
is an American crook with a clean slate, so far as this side is
concerned. Cohen is his name. And the idea seems to be that he
went in at some point between where he was found by the river
police and the point at which Jim Poland was arrested."
Kerry snapped his teeth together audibly, and:
"I'm open to learn," he said, "that the house of Huang Chow is
within that area."
"It is."
"I thought so. He died the same way the Chinaman died awhile
ago," snapped Kerry savagely.
"It looks very queer." He glanced aside at the local officer.
"Cover him up," he ordered, and, turning, he walked briskly out
of the mortuary, followed by Detective Durham.
Although dawn was not far off, this was the darkest hour of the
night, so that even the sounds of dockland were muted and the
riverside slept as deeply as the great port of London ever
sleeps. Vague murmurings there were and distant clankings, with
the hum of machinery which is never still.
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