I tell you no more."
"One thing more," said Harley sternly; "the name of the man who
killed Kwen Lung?"
At that Ma Lorenzo slowly raised her head and folded her arms
across her bosom. There was something one could never forget in
the expression of her fat face.
"Not if you burn me alive!" she answered in a low voice. "No one
ever knows that--from me."
She sank on to the divan and buried her face in her hands. Her
fat shoulders shook grotesquely; and Harley stood perfectly still
staring across at her for fully a minute. I could hear voices in
the street outside and the hum of traffic in Limehouse Causeway.
Then my friend did a singular thing. Walking over to the gilded
joss he reclosed the opening and not without a great effort
pushed the great idol back against the wall.
"There are times, Knox," he said, staring at me oddly, "when I'm
glad that I am not an official agent of the law."
While I watched him dumfounded he walked across to the woman and
touched her on the shoulder. She raised her tear-stained face.
"All right," she whispered. "I am ready."
"Get ready as soon as you like," said he tersely.
"I'll have the man removed who is watching the house, and you can
reckon on forty-eight hours to make yourself scarce.
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