Kerry was down here."

Cohen laughed.

"Red Kerry!" he echoed. "Red Kerry means nothing in my young
life, Jim."

"Don't 'e?" returned Jim, snarling viciously. "The way he
cleaned up that dope crowd awhile back seemed to show he was no
jug, didn't it?"

The Jew made a facial gesture as if to dismiss the subject.

"All right," continued Poland. "Think that way if you like. But
the patrols have been doubled. I suppose you know that? And
it's a cert there are special men on duty, ever since the death
of that Chink."

Cohen shifted uneasily, glancing about him in a furtive fashion.

"See what I mean?" continued the other. "Chinatown ain't healthy
just now."

He finished his whisky at a draught, and, standing up, lurched
heavily across to the counter. He returned with two more
glasses. Then, reseating himself and bending forward again:

"There's one thing I reckon you don't know," he whispered in
Cohen's ear. "I saw that Chink talking to Lala Huang only a week
before the time he was hauled out of Limehouse Reach. I'm