"That's just what I'm suggesting, doctor," answered the detective, good-humouredly. "I'll put the thing in a nutshell—my profound belief is that if we want to get at the bottom of these two murders we've got to go back a long way, to the Elizabeth Robinson time, and that Chuh Fen is the only person I've heard of, up to now, who can throw a light on that episode. And it seems to me, to be plain about it, that Mr. Wing there could be extremely useful."
"How?" asked Lorrimore. "He's at your service, I'm sure."
"Well, by finding out if this Chuh Fen, when he was here, three years since, made any revelations to his Chinese brethren in Limehouse or elsewhere," replied Scarterfield. "He may have known something about the brothers Quick and concerning that Elizabeth Robinson affair that would help immensely. Any little thing!—a mere scrap of information—just a bit of chance gossip—a hint—you don't know how valuable these things are. The mere germ of a clue—you know!"
"I know," said Lorrimore. He turned to his servant and addressed him in some strange tongue in which Wing at once responded: for some minutes they talked together, volubly: then Lorrimore looked round at Scarterfield.
"Wing says that if Chuh Fen was in London three years ago he can engage to find out how long he was here, whence he came and why, and where he went," he said. "I gather that there's a sort of freemasonry amongst these men—naturally, they seek each other out in strange lands, and there are places in London
