Dope by Sax Rohmer (highly recommended books .txt) 📖

“Impossible! He did not remotely resemble him. Besides, the man to whom you refer remained outside to receive other visitors. Oh, that's out of the question, Inspector.”

“The light was very dim?”

“Very dim indeed, and Kazmah never once raised his head. Indeed, except for a dignified gesture of greeting and one of dismissal, he never moved. His immobility was rather uncanny.”

Kerry began to pace up and down the narrow room, and:

“He bore no resemblance to the late Sir Lucien Pyne, for instance?” he rapped.

Margaret laughed outright and her laughter was so inoffensive and so musical that the Chief Inspector laughed also.

“That's more hopeless than ever!” she said. “Poor Sir Lucien had strong, harsh features and rather small eyes. He wore a moustache, too. But Sir Lucien, I feel sure, was one of Kazmah's clients.”

“Ah!” said Kerry. “And what leads you to suppose Miss Halley, that this Kazmah dealt in drugs?”

“Well, you see, Rita Irvin was always going there to buy perfumes, and she frequently sent her maid as well.”

“But”—Kerry stared—“you say that the perfume was harmless.”

“That which was sold to casual visitors was harmless, Inspector. But I strongly suspect that regular clients were supplied with something quite different. You see, I know no fewer than thirty unfortunate women in the West End of London alone who are simply helpless slaves to various drugs, and I think it more than a coincidence that upon their dressing-tables I have almost invariably found one or more of Kazmah's peculiar antique flasks.”

Chief Inspector Kerry's jaw muscles protruded conspicuously.

“You speak of patients?” he asked.

Margaret nodded her head.

“When a woman becomes addicted to the drug habit,” she explained, “she sometimes shuns her regular medical adviser. I have many patients who came to me originally simply because they dared not face their family doctor. In fact, since I gave up Army work, my little practice has threatened to develop into that of a drug-habit specialist.”

“Have you taxed any of these people with obtaining drugs from Kazmah?”

“Not directly. It would have been undiplomatic. But I have tried to surprise them into telling me. Unfortunately, these poor people are as cunning as any other kind of maniac, for, of course, it becomes a form of mania. They recognize that confession might lead to a stoppage of supplies—the eventuality they most dread.”

“Did you examine the contents of any of these flasks found on dressing-tables?”

“I rarely had an opportunity; but when I did they proved to contain perfume when they contained anything.”

“H'm,” mused Kerry, and although in deference to Margaret, he had denied himself chewing-gum, his jaws worked automatically. “I gather that Mrs. Monte Irvin had expressed a wish to see you last night?”

“Yes. Apparently she was threatened with a shortage of cocaine.”

“Cocaine was her drug?”

“One of them. She had tried them all, poor, silly girl! You must understand that for a habitual drug-taker suddenly to be deprived of drugs would lead to complete collapse, perhaps death. And during the last few days I had noticed a peculiar nervous symptom in Rita Irvin which had interested me. Finally, the day before yesterday, she confessed that her usual source of supply had been closed to her. Her words were very vague, but I gathered that some form of coercion was being employed.”

“With what object?”

“I have no idea. But she used the words, 'They will drive me mad,' and seemed to be in a dangerously nervous condition. She said that she was going to make a final attempt to obtain a supply of the poison which had become indispensable to her. 'I cannot do without it!' she said. 'But if they refuse, will you give me some?'”

“What did you say?”

“I begged of her, as I had done on many previous occasions, to place herself in my hands. But she evaded a direct answer, as is the way of one addicted to this vice. 'If I cannot get some by tomorrow,' she said, 'I shall go mad, or dead. Can I rely on you?'”

“I told her that I would prescribe cocaine for her on the distinct understanding that from the first dose she was to place herself under my care for a cure.”

“She agreed?”

“She agreed. Yesterday afternoon, while I was away at an important case, she came here. Poor Rita!” Margaret's soft voice trembled. “Look—she left this note.”

From a letter-rack she took a square sheet of paper and handed it to the Chief Inspector. He bent his fierce eyes upon the writing—large, irregular and shaky.

“'Dear Margaret,'” he read aloud. “'Why aren't you at home? I am wild with pain, and feel I am going mad. Come to me directly you return, and bring enough to keep me alive. I—', Hullo! there's no finish!”

He glanced up from the page. Margaret Halley's eyes were dim.

“She despaired of my coming and went to Kazmah,” she said. “Can you doubt that that was what she went for?”

“No!” snapped Kerry savagely, “I can't. But do you mean to tell me, Miss Halley, that Mrs. Irvin couldn't get cocaine anywhere else? I know for a fact that it's smuggled in regularly, and there's more than one receiver.”

Margaret looked at him strangely.

“I know it, too, Inspector,” she said quietly. “Owing to the lack of enterprise on the part of our British drug-houses, even reputable chemists are sometimes dependent upon illicit stock from Japan and America. But do you know that the price of these smuggled drugs has latterly become so high as to be prohibitive in many cases?”

“I don't. What are you driving at, miss?”

“At this: Somebody had made a corner in contraband drugs. The most wicked syndicate that ever was formed has got control of the lives of, it may be, thousands of drug-slaves!”

Kerry's teeth closed with a sharp snap.

“At last,” he said, “I see where the smart from the Home office comes in.”

“The Secretary of State has appointed a special independent commissioner to inquire into this hellish traffic,” replied Margaret quietly. “I am glad to say that I have helped in getting this done by the representations which I have made to my uncle, Lord Wrexborough. But I give you my word, Inspector Kerry, that I have withheld nothing from you any more than from him.”

“Him!” snapped Kerry, eyes fiercely ablaze.

“From