red the
value of the sign which followed it!

From that point onward the task became child's-play, and I should
merely render this account tedious if I entered into further details.
Both messages commenced with the name "Smith" as I early perceived,
and half an hour of close study gave me the complete sentences, thus:--

1. _Smith passing Three Colt Street twelve-thirty Wednesday._

2. _Smith going Joy-Shop after one Monday._

The word "Zagazig" was completed, always, and did not necessarily
terminate with the last letter occurring in the cryptographic message.
A subsequent inspection of this curious code has enabled Nayland
Smith, by a process of simple deduction, to compile the entire alphabet
employed by Dr. Fu-Manchu's agent, Samarkan, in communicating with his
awful superior. With a little patience, any one of my readers my achieve
the same result (and I should be pleased to hear from those who succeed!).

This, then was the outcome of my labors; and although it enlightened me
to some extent, I realized that I still had much to learn.

The dacoit, apparently, had met his death at the very hour when Nayland
Smith should have been passing along Three Colt Street--a thoroughfare
with an unsavory reputation. Who had killed him?

To-night, Samarkan advised the Chinese doctor, Smith would again be in
the same dangerous neighborhood. A strange thrill of excitement swept
through me. I glanced at my watch. Yes! It was time for me to repair,
secretly, to my post. For I, too, had business on the borders of
Chinatown to-night.

CHAPTER XXII

THE SECRET OF THE WHARF

I sat in the evil-smelling little room with its low, blackened ceiling,
and strove to avoid making the slightest noise; but the crazy boards
creaked beneath me with every movement. The moon hung low in an almost
cloudless sky; for, following the spell of damp and foggy weather, a
fall in temperature had taken place, and there was a frosty snap in
the air to-night.

Through the open window the moonlight poured in and spilled its pure
luminance upon the filthy floor; but I kept religiously within the
shadows, so posted, however, that I could command an uninterrupted
view of the street from the point where it crossed the creek to that
where it terminated at the gates of the deserted wharf.

Above and below me the crazy building formerly known as the Joy-Shop
and once the nightly resort of the Asiatic riff-raff from the docks--
was silent, save for