od so deliberately.
Walk ahead, Kilfane, with Mollie. Rita and I will follow at a discreet
distance. Leave the door ajar."

Temporarily subdued by Pyne's icy manner, Miss Gretna became silent, and
went on ahead with Cyrus Kilfane, who had preserved an almost unbroken
silence throughout the journey. Rita and Sir Lucien followed slowly.

"What a creepy neighborhood," whispered Rita. "Look! Someone is standing
in that doorway over there, watching us."

"Take no notice," he replied. "A cat could not pass along this street
unobserved by the Chinese, but they will not interfere with us provided
we do not interfere with them."

Kilfane had turned to the right into a narrow court, at the entrance
to which stood an iron pillar. As he and his companion passed under the
lamp in a rusty bracket which projected from the wall, they vanished
into a place of shadows. There was a ceaseless chorus of distant
machinery, and above it rose the grinding and rattling solo of a steam
winch. Once a siren hooted apparently quite near them, and looking
upward at a tangled, indeterminable mass which overhung the street at
this point, Rita suddenly recognized it for a ship's bow-sprit.

"Why," she said, "we are right on the bank of the river!"

"Not quite," answered Pyne. "We are skirting a dock basin. We are nearly
at our destination."

Passing in turn under the lamp, they entered the narrow court, and from
a doorway immediately on the left a faint light shone out upon the wet
pavement. Pyne pushed the door fully open and held it for Rita to enter.
As she did so:

"Hello! hello!" croaked a harsh voice. "Number one p'lice chop, lo! Sin
Sin Wa!"

The uncanny cracked voice proceeded to give an excellent imitation of a
police whistle, and concluded with that of the clicking of castanets.

"Shut the door, Lucy," came the murmurous tones of Kilfane from the
gloom of the stuffy little room, in the centre of which stood a stove
wherefrom had proceeded the dim light shining out upon the pavement.
"Light up, Sin Sin."

"Sin Sin Wa! Sin Sin Wa!" shrieked the voice, and again came the
rattling of imaginary castanets. "Smartest leg in Buenos Ayres--Buenos
Ayres--p'lice chop--p'lice chop, lo!"

"Oh," whispered Mollie Gretna, in the darkness, "I believe I am going to
scream!"

Pyne closed the door, and a dimly discernible figure on the opposite
side of the room stooped and opened a little cupboard in which was a
lighted ship's lantern. The lante