Читать книгу Hop Lee, The Chinese Slave Dealer; Old and Young King Brady and the Opium Fiends - Francis Worcester Doughty - Страница 5

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“Where now?” asked Harry, as he and his famous partner gained the street.

“I mean to see the man who has reported that he saw Edna Morton, the missing heiress, in Chinatown.”

“I thought you would want to call on him.”

Old King Brady produced his notebook.

Consulting it, he said:

“The name of the young man in question is Dr. Raymond.”

“I wonder if he is a practicing physician?”

“We shall soon see. Come, we’ll go to his address.”

Old King Brady and Harry walked away in the direction of Dr. Raymond’s home.

“It would seem from what Dr. Raymond told the chief that Edna Morton was the willing companion of the man she was with in Chinatown,” Harry remarked.

“Yes, and it also appears that she voluntarily went into the opium den with that man.”

“But if she is a good girl as the chief thinks, her conduct was strange.”

“So it was. I shall question Dr. Raymond closely.”

“Have you any vague suspicions regarding him?”

“I do not say that I have. But there is a possibility that he may really know more than he has told.”

“That the doctor knew the missing girl well, may be taken as an indication that he can tell us more about her character than the chief knows, it may be.”

“That’s my idea, Harry.”

“You will proceed cautiously with the doctor?”

“Certainly. I do not want him to suspect we have a shadow of suspicion against him; we must not alarm him.”

“No.”

“But I shall try to lead him to talk freely about the missing girl.”

“Then I think I had better let you do all the talking when we see the doctor.”

“You can join in the conversation if you wish. I know you are shrewd enough to cross-question anyone.”

Old King Brady looked at Harry kindly as he spoke.

Though the two detectives were not related, and it was only a coincident that their surnames happened to be the same, they were much attached to each other.

Indeed, from the day several years previously, when Harry came to Old King Brady, and asked him to train him in his arduous profession, the veteran had taken a great liking to the young man.

This feeling Harry fully reciprocated.

And the ties of friendship and mutual admiration were strengthened on both sides when, ere long, each saved the life of the other under circumstances of great danger.

At this date the two King Bradys had already made a reputation for themselves. They were known far and wide as the most successful detectives of modern times.

Harry was an exceedingly muscular young man, and though he was not as tall as Old King Brady he was powerfully built.

The young officer was an all round athlete, and in many a desperate fight with criminals he had given a good account of himself.

Indeed, Harry Brady like his veteran preceptor, seemed always to be fearless. And it was to their desperate bravery as well as cunning that the great detective team owed their wonderful success.

Continuing on the way toward the abode of Dr. Raymond, the officers conversed further.

Presently Old King Brady remarked:

“Before we go into Chinatown to-night we must see little Sing Ho, the Secret Service Chinaman.”

“Yes, I think he may be of service to us.”

“Little Sing Ho is a cunning Mongolian.”

“Yes. If he was not a master of duplicity he would not have been able to act as a Secret Service spy in San Francisco as long as he has done, without being suspected by the Celestials.”

“Sing Ho told me, when he was in New York recently, that even the city police of San Francisco did not know he was a secret government agent.”

“Then, evidently, the chief has not called on Sing Ho to help find out the mystery of the death of our friend, Blake Moore.”

“Of course not.”

“Sing Ho is perfectly trustworthy, is he not?”

“He is. At least such is the opinion of the Secret Service chief, and I have no reason to differ with him.”

“And Sing Ho is an Americanized Chinaman?”

“He is.”

No further conversation of importance ensued at this time.

And very soon the two detectives paused before a neat brick dwelling house, on the window of which they saw a sign which bore this inscription:

DR. RAYMOND.

The officers went to the door, and they were presently admitted by a bright-looking housemaid.

“Is the doctor in?” asked Old King Brady, blandly.

“Yes, sir. Please walk into the waiting room,” answered the maid.

Then she ushered the pair into a small, well-appointed room at the side of the hall.

When the maid had retired an inner door opened, and a frank-faced young man of possibly twenty-eight entered.

“Dr. Raymond, I presume?” said Old King Brady, bowing.

“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?” was the doctor’s business-like rejoinder.

“My dear doctor, I have not called to see you professionally.”

“Indeed?” and an expression of surprise crossed the ingenuous countenance of the young man.

“Perhaps you have heard, doctor, that there is a large reward offered for the finding of Miss Edna Morton, who has been missing for some months.”

“Yes; the chief of police told me that.”

“Very well, doctor. Perhaps if you will help me I can help you. You are a young man and I presume half the great reward would be a welcome addition to your bank account,” said the veteran.

Dr. Raymond smiled.

“Certainly I need money, as I’m just starting in the practice of my profession and have to depend upon it for my living. But aside from that I should be very glad to find Miss Morton, for I am interested in her case. She was about the most interesting patient I ever had.”

“Then you treated Miss Morton professionally?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let me assure you in the first place that I am not prompted by idle curiosity, but I would like to know for what malady you treated Miss Morton.”

“Tell me, sir, are you not a detective?”

“Frankly, I am, and so is my companion. As there is really no reason why I should not be perfectly frank with an honorable gentleman like yourself, I may as well introduce myself and my partner. I am James Brady, usually called Old King Brady. This young man is Harry Brady, known familiarly as Young King Brady.”

Dr. Raymond acknowledged the introduction.

“I am glad to meet you both,” said he. “And of course I now conclude you are employed to search for Miss Morton, so I will say at once that you are quite welcome to any information I can give you.”

“Thanks, doctor. Then I revert to my question. What was the nature of the illness for which you treated Miss Morton?”

“Nervous headache. Between ourselves, I will tell you that before Miss Morton came to me some physician had treated her for a nervous trouble, and under his advice she had taken morphine for a long time. In fact, she had become a confirmed opium eater without wishing to acquire the fatal habit. When she tried to break off the use of the drug she suffered greatly from headaches and depression. She came to me and asked me to cure her of the opium eating habit. I was treating her for that when she disappeared.”

“I am in the confidence of the chief of police,” replied Old King Brady.

“Then, no doubt, you have heard that I am supposed to be the only person among Miss Morton’s acquaintances who has seen her since she disappeared from her usual haunts.”

“Yes, you saw Miss Morton in Chinatown. At that time she was in company with a gentlemanly-looking American.”

“Exactly. The man with the young lady had the look of a drug-eater. I think he is one of the victims of opium. Miss Morton went into an opium smoking den with that man, and she went voluntarily. I believe he knew her failing, and that he tempted her to go into the place and satisfy her craving for the drug. I had not yet cured her of the appetite for it, which she had innocently acquired.”

“Did you ever see her companion before or since you observed him with Miss Morton in Chinatown?”

“No, sir.”

“Can you tell me anything more about this matter?”

“I cannot.”

“Then I thank you for the information you have given me.”

“You are quite welcome. I sincerely hope you may find the missing girl.”

“Doctor, I perceive that you are a man of intelligence, and so it seems likely that you have formed some opinion as to the cause of the disappearance of your interesting lady patient. Am I not right?”

“Yes. And I do not mind telling you that I believe Miss Morton has been lured away by evilly disposed persons, for some object which I presume you can guess at. And I have little doubt that the persons implicated were aware that the young lady had contracted the opium habit, of which fact I presume they have taken advantage.”

“I think your view may be the correct one. But I will not further trespass upon your time now. Thanking you very much and assuring you of my confidence, I will now bid you good-day,” said Old King Brady.

“Good-day, doctor,” Harry said, cordially.

And when the physician had responded he politely attended his callers to the door.

When that portal had closed and the officers had descended the steps. Old King Brady said to Harry:

“What do you think of the doctor?”

“I think he’s an honest man.”

“So do I, and I rely on all that he told us,” assented the veteran.

Then he looked at his watch.

“Now, we’ll go to see little Sing Ho,” he remarked, as he closed the timepiece.

A little later the two officers entered an alley in a respectable but poor neighborhood, at no great distance from the southern confines of Chinatown.

They soon arrived at a small frame house, that was wedged in between two tall tenements, and whose time of construction evidently antedated the towering buildings by many years.

There was no bell at the door of this house.

But the portal was provided with a large, old-fashioned iron knocker.

Old King Brady seized hold of this and rapped thrice, then he paused and knocked twice more.

A moment or so elapsed.

Then a wicket in the door, which was so cunningly concealed, that it would hardly have been detected by the keenest eyes, opened, and the yellow face of a Chinaman appeared in the small opening.