"He has brains, but lacks the quality of ruthlessness so important in really successful commercial crime. He is utterly selfish, I believe, but certain necessary factors in his profession are revolting to him—and he has never made the effort to put down this weakness. Physically he is prepossessing: an inch or two over six feet in height, blue eyes, light brown hair, splendid carriage; and possessed of the manners of a Chesterfield."
A thin, faint voice came through the door, upon which the tattoo had momentarily ceased:
"We've got you, Count! Open that door, or we'll gouge your eyes out when we break in!"
Ah Wing waved his hand affably toward the source of this ominous promise.
"And our friend out there?" said he. "Is he one of those whom you have described?"
"I was just coming to him," replied Colonel Knight, raising a shaking hand to his forehead and mopping off the beaded perspiration. "That is 'Billy the Strangler,' and I think the 'Kid' is with him. Those were my Apaches—my gun men—my killers. They are much alike. Both have cunning of a low order; and persistence—they are like bloodhounds, once they are put on the trail.
"They have been Monte's most useful tools in his pursuit of me. But both are superstitious, and their native blood-thirstiness has grown on them till they are little better than homicidal maniacs. The Strangler is tall and slim, with high cheek bones and lean arms which seem to be threaded with steel wires. The Kid is of medium height, with grey eyes and sandy hair."
The assault on the door had again been discontinued. Suddenly there came from directly overhead a sound of splintering boards, accompanied by a rain of dust and bits of plaster. Knight sprang up and retreated, snarling, toward a corner of the empty room.
"Ah, I have been waiting to see if your old comrades would think of that," he commented. "It gives us a line on their resourcefulness."
Colonel Knight regarded him with drawn lips, which exposed his yellow teeth.
"For God's sake, what are we to do?" he cried. "Are you armed? You sit there like a statue—"
"Pray continue your very interesting description," suggested Ah Wing. "There remains one of your band whom you have not described. I must know about him—and then I will deal with this other matter!"
For an instant the thief glared into him. What he read there steadied him a little, although the crash of splintering boards from above told him that the men he had such good reason to fear were meeting with less resistance in this direction than they had encountered in their assault upon the door.
"There remains but one," he said hoarsely. "That is Louie Martin, my gem expert. Martin is one of the best judges of diamonds and pearls in the world. He is an expert in recutting and remounting stolen jewelry. And he has a wide acquaintance among the crooked dealers of this country and Europe—"
An extensive area of plaster broke away suddenly and crashed down, tumbling about the heads and shoulders of the two occupants of the room. At the same instant the end of a heavy gas-pipe crashed through the laths, and the voices of the men on the floor above were raised in a shout of ferocious triumph.
Ah Wing stood up deliberately and looked toward the ceiling. He seemed to be measuring the progress of the men opposed to him. Then, without hurrying he crossed the room toward a dimly lighted corner, where he stooped and opened a small door in the wall. This door was built in segments, like that of a safe; and was hinged with metal plates of enormous strength.
Colonel Knight, who cowered directly behind the Chinaman, felt a breath of cool, moist air, smelling strongly of earthy decay, blowing up from this diminutive doorway.
"Kindly precede me, Colonel," commanded Ah Wing. "Watch your step—the going is rather precipitous!"
Knight stooped and made his way through the opening. He found himself on a stairway which went steeply down into utter darkness.
A cloud of white dust filtered up into the light of the electric bulb; and, as Ah Wing stood watching, a lithe human figure landed with a crash on top of the heap of plaster and splintered boards and laths.
In the same instant the Chinaman passed silently through the small doorway, and his companion heard him slipping the bolts into place.
The darkness which had suddenly clutched them was so intense that it seemed to have physical substance. A squeaking sound from above brought Knight's face swiftly up. Something cold and reptilian flapped into his eyes and, with another squeak, was gone.
"Only a bat!" said Ah Wing softly, "Rest your hand on my shoulder and feel your way a step at a time. I will turn on my flashlight!"
A conical beam of light drilled through the darkness below them, and Ah Wing's companion saw that they were descending a narrow flight of stone steps that seemed to terminate in a panel of utter blackness. The walls on each side were damp; and pallid fungi had taken the place of the mildew of the cellars above.
"For God's sake, where are we?" the white man demanded through chattering teeth. "This looks like the shaft of a mine!"
"This is part of the underground system which made Chinatown famous, before the disaster of 1906," replied the Oriental. "Few white men have ever been down here—particularly of late years!"
He paused. They had reached a narrow landing, from which passages branched in half a dozen directions. Another descending stairway yawned ahead.
"If I were to leave you here," smiled Ah Wing, "you would never find your way out! You could not go back the way you have come, for there are acute-angled branches which would confuse you. Most of them end in masses of rubbish, easily dislodged by the unwary! But with me you are safe!"
His voice had an ominous softness. Knight followed down along the second flight of stairs. His heart was pounding. Suppose these crumbling walls should collapse! Suppose this unearthly being, in whose hands his safety lay, decided to rob him!
Ah Wing spoke abruptly:
"We have been following down the face of a hill. Now we reach the level, and here we leave these catacombs!"
He turned sharply to the left and led the way along a short passage which terminated in a second diminutive door. Ah Wing shot back the bolts and motioned for his companion to proceed him into the room beyond.
Knight obeyed. Daylight was there—white, blazing daylight! He blinked as he crept through the opening.
Next moment he tried to cry out. An arm had passed in front of his body, pinioning him. In the same instant a sinewy hand came close to his face, and there was a little tinkle of broken glass—a diminutive globule had been broken under his nose.
The thief struggled to turn his head aside, fought to keep from breathing in the stupefying fumes; but with a smothering gasp he surrendered.
