Frank Thomas - Sherlock Holmes and the Sacred Sword

We were on the outskirts of the European city, and ahead were the bazaars and narrow streets of the native quarter. Pedestrian traffic thinned out, and soon the thoroughfare we followed was deserted. Loo Chan continued forward, never once looking back, which might have seemed strange to a wiser dog on the scent. Then the Chinaman did pause and glance over his shoulder before turning into an alley. His move could not have happened at a worse time for I was, though on the opposite side of the street, badly positioned near one of the infrequent street lamps. However, Loo Chan made no note of me, turning purposefully into the dark alley, and it was then that some sense forced itself upon me.

"He's leading me into a trap," I thought. "Somehow he or a cohort spotted me at the hotel, and he has baited me into the open. Well, two can play that game," I thought with a surge of confidence.

I continued down the street, steeling myself not to even glance at the alley mouth into which the lawyer had ducked. At the next intersection, I turned to the right and passed the corner. The native quarter was deserted, all inhabitants having withdrawn to their lodgings. No surprise that, since Cairo was known to wake early. With no observers about, I accelerated into a trot that brought me, somewhat short-winded, to the next corner. I did not round it but rather peered towards where I felt the alley opening might be. If Loo Chan emerged, I would have him under observation whilst hidden myself. But there was no sign of the Chinaman. Now I faced an impasse. My best bet seemed to be to try to return to Shepheard's, but if the minions of Chu San Fu were after me, they could well overtake me in the darkened streets of this quarter of Cairo and no one would be the wiser. I had no weapon to forestall them and chided myself for leaving my revolver in my suitcase at the hotel. But then I had not anticipated a foray into nighttime Cairo after dinner.

Well, peering round a corner was getting me nowhere, so I took a deep breath and rounded it, cautiously making my way down the block. The alley did open on the street I had chosen and I slipped into it, feeling somewhat the better for the total darkness that enveloped me. I could see nothing but could not be seen either. Such was my thought. Loo Chan must have entered a building facing the alley. Perhaps after all he was not conscious that he was being followed. I could traverse the narrow footway, regain the street on the other side, and beat a hasty retreat, making note of the locale for a report to Holmes.

Keeping the fingers of one hand on the wall on my right, I moved in the planned direction at a snail's pace indeed, for I was in horror of stumbling over some obstruction like a baggy-pants clown in a circus. Somewhat surprisingly, I moved silently in the Stygian darkness and was conscious of the dim light at the alley end, which spelled escape. Then I heard the soft, sibilant sound of a voice, and a curtain was raised almost by my head, allowing a shaft of light to split the night. I froze, and then instinctively moved to the wall beside me, pressing my back to it.

The voice was a mumble of sound, and then I heard a chair being moved within the ground-floor room on the other side of the wall. A shadow crossed the light emanating from the window. I eased closer to the aperture, removed my hat, and, summoning all the nerve at my command, stole a peek into the room. Loo Chan had seated himself at a plain round table, and standing opposite him was the impressive form of the Manchurian wrestler who had been my jailer when Chu San Fu had kidnapped me in London. The Chinese lawyer was looking upwards at the muscular figure, something he would have had to do even if he were not seated.

"The yacht should arrive sometime tomorrow," he said. Evidently this statement had significance, for the Manchurian nodded.

Good heavens, I thought with a flood of elation! I am privy to a conference here! Possibly the key to the strange series of events will be revealed to me. What a coup!

"We must be prepared for his coming," continued Loo Chan.

Whatever else he intended to say I did not learn, for a horny palm was slapped across my mouth, stifling all but my faintest sounds of protest. Nor could I put up an effective struggle, for an arm, more like a nautical hawser, encircled my arms and body. I did get in a couple of backward kicks with my heels, but to no avail. Suddenly the arm encircling me slid away, as did the one over my mouth, and to my amazement I was free. There was the soft sound of a falling body, and I turned and found a large form motionless on the pavement of the alley. It was the other Manchurian, for there were two of them, brothers, employed by Chu San Fu. I hadn't the slightest idea of what had happened. Possibly a falling object, like a flowerpot, had fortuitously felled my captor. One thing was clear. They were on to my presence. In a flash I recalled that to the Chinese, surprise is akin to fear and is the breeder of it. This fact, well tested by experience, had to be used, or my goose was cooked to a turn!

Steeling myself, I marched through the door on the far side of the window into an odoriferous hallway and then through another door into the room I had observed.

Loo Chan wore a bland expression of satisfaction, and there was a gleam of cunning in his small, obsidian eyes, which faded when he realized that I was present without escort.

"Good evening," I said in a matter-of-fact manner! "If you will send your bully boy here into the alley, he can drag his unconscious brother within."

As I sat down opposite the lawyer, I was delighted to note his startled reaction.

"Your attempt at strong-arm tactics was ridiculous, of course, since I'm here to have a word with you."

"You are—what?" Chan was completely unnerved, and rattled to the Manchurian in Chinese. The wrestler left the room.

"Surely you don't think your clumsily baited trap would fool anyone but a child," I stated contemptuously. "Even the sometimes obtuse Inspector Lestrade would have laughed at it."

Alarm had flooded Loo Chan's eyes, and I pressed on.

"Dear me, I can see clearly that you have overdramatized again. The open window, the sound of a voice, and the curiosity of the Anglo-Saxon will entrap him. Do you think me a dunderhead? Had you not been aware of my presence, would you have spoken in English? Surely not, but in your native tongue."

I leaned back in the straight-back, regarding Loo Chan with disdain. In the alleyway this thought had not occurred to me, but the Chinese didn't know that, a knowledge gap that I hoped to preserve.

"Why . . . why then would you come here, on my footsteps, if you suspected a trap?" As he spoke, Loo Chan was mentally stumbling round, trying to regain firm footing.

"Because—in the patois of the American dime novel—the jig is up! Lawyers are reputed to be a cautious lot, and you had better get out now."

Consternation and confusion fought a battle on his face. Since the best defense against a counterattack is to never let it get started, I continued to knife him verbally, all the while trying to preserve an icy façade.

"I can afford to be generous with advice. Surely, here, I am completely safe." I indicated my dingy surroundings airily, as though I were seated in the commissioner's office at New Scotland Yard.

Loo Chan almost sputtered. In fact, he did. "You, the intimate and associate of that devil Holmes, think you are safe with us?"

"Completely." I leaned over the table, spearing him with an outstretched finger. A very effective gesture that, and one that I had seen Sherlock Holmes use to enforce a point.

"If Chu San Fu arrives tomorrow in Cairo, you cannot have him meet me. What might I tell him about the destruction of his London organization?"

Loo Chan's round face froze. He did not grasp what I was touching on, but the sound was ominous. His worried eyes were fastened on me with an unspoken question. I summoned an answer.