“I adopted the ill-used name of Levinsky on that occasion.”…
Dunbar began to punch his left palm and to stride up and down the floor; whilst Sowerby, his blue eyes opened quite roundly, watched M. Max as a schoolboy watches an illusionist.
“Therefore,” continued M. Max, “I shall ask you to have a party ready on Tuesday night in Limehouse Causeway—suitably concealed, of course; and as I am almost sure that the haunt of Mr. King is actually upon the riverside (I heard one little river sound as I was coming away) a launch party might cooperate with you in affecting the raid.”
“The raid!” said Dunbar, turning from a point by the window, and looking back at the Frenchman. “Do you seriously tell me that we are going to raid Mr. King’s on Tuesday night?”
“Most certainly,” was the confident reply. “I had hoped to form one of the raiding party; but nom d’un nom!”—he shrugged, in his graceful fashion—“I must be one of the rescued!”
“Of the rescued!”
“You see I visited that establishment as a smoker of opium”…
“You took that risk?”
“It was no greater risk than is run by quite a number of people socially well known in London, my dear Inspector Dunbar! I was introduced by an habitué and a member of the best society; and since
