there—he will be there, either until you take him, or until his arrangements are made for getting out of this country," answered Yada.
Levendale jumped up, as if for instant action. But the Inspector quietly tapped him on the elbow.
"He promised to tell you how to take him, Mr. Levendale," he said. "Let's know all we can—we shall have to be in with you on this, you know."
"Mr. Police-Inspector is right," said Yada. "You will have to conduct what you call a raid. Now, do precisely what I tell you to do. Pilmansey's is an old-fashioned place, a very old house as regards its architecture, on the right-hand side of Tottenham Court Road. Go there today—this mid-day—a little before one—when there are always plenty of customers. Go with plenty of your plain-clothes men, like Mr. Ayscough there. Drop in, don't you see, as if you were customers—let there be plenty of you, I repeat. There are two Pilmanseys—men—middle-aged, sly, smooth, crafty men. When you are all there, take your own lines—close the place, the doors, if you like—but get hold of the Pilmansey men, tell them you are police, insist on being taken to the top floor and shown their opium den. They will object, they will lie, they will resist—you will use your own methods. But—in that opium den you will find Chang Li—and your property!"
He had been drawing on his gloves as he spoke, and now, picking up his hat and umbrella, Yada bowed politely to the circle and moved to the door.
"You will excuse me, now?" he said. "I have an important lecture at the medical school which I must not
