ibly by the agency of members of
this group. No arrests have been made. You know that there are people
here in London who are anxious to regain the box. You have theories
respecting the identity of some of them, but there are practically no
facts."

Nayland Smith nodded his head.

"Exactly!" he snapped.

"Inspector Weymouth, here," continued Fletcher, "has put me in
possession of such facts as are known to him, and I believe that I
have had the good fortune to chance upon a valuable one."

"You interest me, Sergeant Fletcher," said Smith. "What is the nature
of this clue?"

"I will tell you," replied the other, and turned briskly upon his heel
to face us.

He had a dark, clean-shaven face, rather sallow complexion, and
deep-set, searching eyes. There was decision in the square, cleft chin
and strong character in the cleanly chiseled features. His manner was
alert.

"I have specialized in Chinese crime," he said; "much of my time is
spent amongst our Asiatic visitors. I am fairly familiar with the
Easterns who use the port of London, and I have a number of useful
acquaintances among them."

Nayland Smith nodded. Beyond doubt Detective-sergeant Fletcher knew
his business.

"To my lasting regret," Fletcher continued, "I never met the late Dr.
Fu-Manchu. I understand, sir, that you believe him to have been a high
official of this dangerous society? However, I think we may get in
touch with some other notabilities; for instance, I'm told that one
of the people you're looking for has been described as 'the man with
the limp'?"

Smith, who had been about to relight his pipe, dropped the match on
the carpet and set his foot upon it. His eyes shone like steel.

"'The man with the limp,'" he said, and slowly rose to his feet--"what
do you know of the man with the limp?"

Fletcher's face flushed slightly; his words had proved more dramatic
than he had anticipated.

"There's a place down Shadwell way," he replied, "of which, no doubt,
you will have heard; it has no official title, but it is known to
habitues as the Joy-Shop...."

Inspector Weymouth stood up, his burly figure towering over that of
his slighter confrere.

"I don't think you know John Ki's, Mr. Smith," he said. "We keep all
those places pretty well patrolled, and until this present business
cropped up, John's establishment had never given us any trouble."

"What is this Joy-Shop?" I asked.

"A resort of shady characters, mostly Asiatics," re