The post-mortem showed
that he had died of some kind of poisoning, and when we saw Cohen
in the mortuary, his swollen appearance struck me as being very
similar to that of the Chinaman. (See my report dated 31st
ultimo.)
He finally agreed to talk if I would promise that he should not
be charged and that his name should never be mentioned to anyone
in connection with what he might tell me. I promised him that
outside the ordinary official routine I would respect his
request, and he told me some very curious things, which no doubt
have a bearing on the case.
For instance, he had discovered--I don't know in what way--that
the dead Chinaman, whose name was Pi Lung, had been in
negotiation with Huang Chow for some sort of job in his
warehouse. Poland had seen the man talking to Huang's daughter,
at the end of the alley which leads to the place. He seemed to
attach extraordinary importance to this fact. At last:
"I'll tell you what it is," he said. "That Chink was a stranger
to Limehouse; I can swear to it. He was a gent of his hands; I
reckon they've got 'em in China as well as here. He went out for
the old boy's money-box, and finished like Cohen finished."
"Make your meaning clearer," I said.
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