Commissioner of Police? He must be off his nut! A Chinese policeman in exchange for Oaf? '
I don't suppose it's a bad swop,' he reflected.
He found Ah Pong a very willing
worker, and therefore gave him the lot. Clever people these Chinese. Sax Rohmer
had said so, he should know, he was one of them. He kept Ah Pong on night duty.
He explained his reasons. 'Got to break it to the people gentlemanlike,' that
and the other reason, a hungry panther loose.
The world had so many Chinese they
wouldn't miss this one.
Passing the station one day, Rafferty
had dropped in to see if there were any warrants out for his arrest. He
entered. Ah Pong had his back to the door.
'Good morning, Sarge,' said Rafferty
cheerfully.
Ah Pong turned.' Please
? ' he said. The little Chinaman advanced
towards Rafferty.
'Don't come near me MacGillikudie, I don't want to catch it.'
'Please, what-is-trouble?' said Ah
Pong.
I was right, thought Rafferty, dat was a Chinee I saw the other night.
' Where's Sergeant MacGillikudie ?' he asked.
'Sergeant asleep.'
'Does he know you're wearing his
uniform?' 'Please understand, I real police, my name Ah Pong.'
He held out his hand and shook
Rafferty's. ' You're a real polis ?'
No
'Look.' Ah Pong put on his helmet,
pointed one finger in the air, and blew his whistle.' See ?'
Rafferty paused, his lips pursed. His
face took on a cunning look.
' Do you
know the meaning of the word poacher ?'
' Sorry , me
no understand.'
Rafferty's face burst into a smile. ' Me and you is going to get on real fine.' He shook the
smiling Chinaman's hand and departed.
Ah Pong opened a Chinese-English
dictionary and ran his finger down the Ps, p-o-a-g-h-e-r. Ahhhh!
He made a swift note in Pekinese.
Soon Rafferty was to know the meaning of the word 'inscrutable'.
Chapter Nine
Life is a long agonized illness only
curable by death. Ruben Croucher lovingly and delicately dusted the coffins
displayed in his parlour. They were such beautiful things. Stately
barques that bore us across the
Styx
into the
eternal life beyond. All was peace and calm within. The only sound was
the endless buzzing of a lone fly, who shall remain
nameless. Ruben Croucher walked with crane-like dignity across the black
cracking lino to the window. His long thin nose pointed the way; a million
rivers of tiny ruptured veins suffused his cadaverous face, two watery eyes
like fresh cracked eggs in lard looked out from a skulllike head. It had got
dark early and he had lit the gas, which cast a sepulchral glow along the
neatly arranged coffins. With a cloth he wiped the condensation from the
sightless windows. Business was bad, it seemed people
couldn't afford to die these days. But, what was this ?
Two ragged-arsed men were
approaching, both smoking the same cigarette. They were pulling a cart and
heading rapidly for the shop. Pausing only to open the door, they entered. When
Lenny saw the face of Mr Croucher, he reverently took his hat off.
Croucher bowed ever so slightly from
the waist up.
'Good morning,' he said, then after
some thought added , '
Gentlemen.' After all they could be eccentric millionaires.
Shamus coughed. 'We are eccentric
millionaires,' he said.' Do you sell coffins ?'
Mr Croucher nodded. 'Yes, we do,
sir,' and as a try on, 'how many do you want ?'
'Oh, just one to
start with.'
'Good, good. Who is the deceased?'
'Oh.' Shamus hadn't thought of this,
but he was a man of some guile. ' It's for me friend
here,' and he pointed at Lenny. 'You see,' he went on, 'he hasn't been well
lately, and we thought just to be on the safe side we'd have one now.' Mr
Croucher, though puzzled, pressed on. 'Ahem. Well, I suppose this method will
save normal post mortem mensuration.'
'Eh?'
' Measuring him. Now he can - well - try one for size.' Mr Croucher indicated the coffins.
Shamus and Lenny ran their hands over several. ' We'll have that one.' Shamus pointed.
'Ah, a black one. A very wise choice, sir, it won't show the dirt.' Mr
I don't suppose it's a bad swop,' he reflected.
He found Ah Pong a very willing
worker, and therefore gave him the lot. Clever people these Chinese. Sax Rohmer
had said so, he should know, he was one of them. He kept Ah Pong on night duty.
He explained his reasons. 'Got to break it to the people gentlemanlike,' that
and the other reason, a hungry panther loose.
The world had so many Chinese they
wouldn't miss this one.
Passing the station one day, Rafferty
had dropped in to see if there were any warrants out for his arrest. He
entered. Ah Pong had his back to the door.
'Good morning, Sarge,' said Rafferty
cheerfully.
Ah Pong turned.' Please
? ' he said. The little Chinaman advanced
towards Rafferty.
'Don't come near me MacGillikudie, I don't want to catch it.'
'Please, what-is-trouble?' said Ah
Pong.
I was right, thought Rafferty, dat was a Chinee I saw the other night.
' Where's Sergeant MacGillikudie ?' he asked.
'Sergeant asleep.'
'Does he know you're wearing his
uniform?' 'Please understand, I real police, my name Ah Pong.'
He held out his hand and shook
Rafferty's. ' You're a real polis ?'
No
'Look.' Ah Pong put on his helmet,
pointed one finger in the air, and blew his whistle.' See ?'
Rafferty paused, his lips pursed. His
face took on a cunning look.
' Do you
know the meaning of the word poacher ?'
' Sorry , me
no understand.'
Rafferty's face burst into a smile. ' Me and you is going to get on real fine.' He shook the
smiling Chinaman's hand and departed.
Ah Pong opened a Chinese-English
dictionary and ran his finger down the Ps, p-o-a-g-h-e-r. Ahhhh!
He made a swift note in Pekinese.
Soon Rafferty was to know the meaning of the word 'inscrutable'.
Chapter Nine
Life is a long agonized illness only
curable by death. Ruben Croucher lovingly and delicately dusted the coffins
displayed in his parlour. They were such beautiful things. Stately
barques that bore us across the
Styx
into the
eternal life beyond. All was peace and calm within. The only sound was
the endless buzzing of a lone fly, who shall remain
nameless. Ruben Croucher walked with crane-like dignity across the black
cracking lino to the window. His long thin nose pointed the way; a million
rivers of tiny ruptured veins suffused his cadaverous face, two watery eyes
like fresh cracked eggs in lard looked out from a skulllike head. It had got
dark early and he had lit the gas, which cast a sepulchral glow along the
neatly arranged coffins. With a cloth he wiped the condensation from the
sightless windows. Business was bad, it seemed people
couldn't afford to die these days. But, what was this ?
Two ragged-arsed men were
approaching, both smoking the same cigarette. They were pulling a cart and
heading rapidly for the shop. Pausing only to open the door, they entered. When
Lenny saw the face of Mr Croucher, he reverently took his hat off.
Croucher bowed ever so slightly from
the waist up.
'Good morning,' he said, then after
some thought added , '
Gentlemen.' After all they could be eccentric millionaires.
Shamus coughed. 'We are eccentric
millionaires,' he said.' Do you sell coffins ?'
Mr Croucher nodded. 'Yes, we do,
sir,' and as a try on, 'how many do you want ?'
'Oh, just one to
start with.'
'Good, good. Who is the deceased?'
'Oh.' Shamus hadn't thought of this,
but he was a man of some guile. ' It's for me friend
here,' and he pointed at Lenny. 'You see,' he went on, 'he hasn't been well
lately, and we thought just to be on the safe side we'd have one now.' Mr
Croucher, though puzzled, pressed on. 'Ahem. Well, I suppose this method will
save normal post mortem mensuration.'
'Eh?'
' Measuring him. Now he can - well - try one for size.' Mr Croucher indicated the coffins.
Shamus and Lenny ran their hands over several. ' We'll have that one.' Shamus pointed.
'Ah, a black one. A very wise choice, sir, it won't show the dirt.' Mr
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