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Authors: Will Thomas
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a book valuable?”
“Not the book but the knowledge inside.”
“Might someone kill to obtain such an item?”
Ho considered the questions for a moment. “I believe someone already has.”
Any witness following Ho would be anticlimactic, and that position fell to Inspector Poole. I believe Mr. Gilbert said it best: “A policeman’s lot is not a happy one.” The inspector took the stand and answered questions.
I personally thought Poole gave a rather antiseptic version of what happened, making himself sound the calm, logical officer leading the case with a cool head, whereas at the time, I thought the inspector had been overdramatic, while Barker alone had remained cool.
“Do you feel your acquaintance with Inspector Bainbridge might have in any way prejudiced your judgment in the case?” Vandeleur continued.
“No, sir. I was acquainted with the inspector. I was more concerned that a member of the Metropolitan Police force had been shot.”
“Was the second bullet found?”
“It was, sir. It had knocked a chip out of the second step and bounced along the tunnel. It was all out of shape, but by its weight, I could see it was a thirty-eight millimeter shell.”
“Were either of the preceding witnesses armed?”
“Mr. Barker was. He carries two American Colt revolvers, both forty-four millimeter. Such a weapon would have done much more damage.”
“Did you search the restaurant for a possible weapon?”
“I did, sir. There were no firearms to be found.”
“The restaurant’s customers left before you got there, however, and one could have taken the gun.” Vandeleur turned to the jury. “I am trying to eliminate any blame for anyone on the premises, you see.”
“Yes,” Poole stated, “it is possible someone might have picked up a gun and carried it out.”
“Did Mr. Barker, Mr. Llewelyn, or Mr. Ho leave the premises?”
“Mr. Llewelyn left to telegraph Scotland Yard, sir.”
I suddenly felt forty pairs of eyes on me. I had only done what Barker had told me to do. What were we supposed to do, sit around and wait for Scotland Yard to deduce that one of their inspectors had been killed?
“Very well,” Vandeleur replied. “We shall take your comments into consideration, Inspector. You may step down.”
Since the court had no more witnesses, the jury convened into another room, one I had not noticed before, while Barker and I sat and waited. It was no more than twenty minutes before the jurymen filed back into the room and took their seats again.
“Have you reached a verdict?” the coroner asked. The head juryman handed over a slip of paper which the bailiff passed to the coroner. Vandeleur nodded decisively.
“The jury finds Inspector Bainbridge’s death to be willful murder by person or persons unknown.”
Dr. Vandeleur brought the gavel down a final time and we were dismissed. It was not like a court trial in which there are winners and losers, and so there was not much reason to stand about and discuss the case. The coroner was the first out the door, on the way to another postmortem, most likely. Henderson stood in a corner and talked with Poole, while the rest of the spectators and the jurymen left the building, ready to put the inquest and Limehouse behind them as soon as possible.
In the kitchen, Ho popped the button on his celluloid collar and it sprang open. He pulled out the thick plait of hair he had been hiding. He made some remark to Barker in Chinese, and they both gave a grim laugh.
“He said since none of the waiters or cooks showed up for work this afternoon, he doesn’t intend to pay them for today,” Barker explained.
Inspector Poole suddenly stepped around me and ignored Barker as if he weren’t there.
“Mr. Ho,” he said, “you are under arrest.”
“On what charge?” Barker demanded.
Poole pointed at a slip of paper on one of the walls. “Expired license to serve victuals, to begin with. Commissioner Henderson wants to know what sort of place
“Not the book but the knowledge inside.”
“Might someone kill to obtain such an item?”
Ho considered the questions for a moment. “I believe someone already has.”
Any witness following Ho would be anticlimactic, and that position fell to Inspector Poole. I believe Mr. Gilbert said it best: “A policeman’s lot is not a happy one.” The inspector took the stand and answered questions.
I personally thought Poole gave a rather antiseptic version of what happened, making himself sound the calm, logical officer leading the case with a cool head, whereas at the time, I thought the inspector had been overdramatic, while Barker alone had remained cool.
“Do you feel your acquaintance with Inspector Bainbridge might have in any way prejudiced your judgment in the case?” Vandeleur continued.
“No, sir. I was acquainted with the inspector. I was more concerned that a member of the Metropolitan Police force had been shot.”
“Was the second bullet found?”
“It was, sir. It had knocked a chip out of the second step and bounced along the tunnel. It was all out of shape, but by its weight, I could see it was a thirty-eight millimeter shell.”
“Were either of the preceding witnesses armed?”
“Mr. Barker was. He carries two American Colt revolvers, both forty-four millimeter. Such a weapon would have done much more damage.”
“Did you search the restaurant for a possible weapon?”
“I did, sir. There were no firearms to be found.”
“The restaurant’s customers left before you got there, however, and one could have taken the gun.” Vandeleur turned to the jury. “I am trying to eliminate any blame for anyone on the premises, you see.”
“Yes,” Poole stated, “it is possible someone might have picked up a gun and carried it out.”
“Did Mr. Barker, Mr. Llewelyn, or Mr. Ho leave the premises?”
“Mr. Llewelyn left to telegraph Scotland Yard, sir.”
I suddenly felt forty pairs of eyes on me. I had only done what Barker had told me to do. What were we supposed to do, sit around and wait for Scotland Yard to deduce that one of their inspectors had been killed?
“Very well,” Vandeleur replied. “We shall take your comments into consideration, Inspector. You may step down.”
Since the court had no more witnesses, the jury convened into another room, one I had not noticed before, while Barker and I sat and waited. It was no more than twenty minutes before the jurymen filed back into the room and took their seats again.
“Have you reached a verdict?” the coroner asked. The head juryman handed over a slip of paper which the bailiff passed to the coroner. Vandeleur nodded decisively.
“The jury finds Inspector Bainbridge’s death to be willful murder by person or persons unknown.”
Dr. Vandeleur brought the gavel down a final time and we were dismissed. It was not like a court trial in which there are winners and losers, and so there was not much reason to stand about and discuss the case. The coroner was the first out the door, on the way to another postmortem, most likely. Henderson stood in a corner and talked with Poole, while the rest of the spectators and the jurymen left the building, ready to put the inquest and Limehouse behind them as soon as possible.
In the kitchen, Ho popped the button on his celluloid collar and it sprang open. He pulled out the thick plait of hair he had been hiding. He made some remark to Barker in Chinese, and they both gave a grim laugh.
“He said since none of the waiters or cooks showed up for work this afternoon, he doesn’t intend to pay them for today,” Barker explained.
Inspector Poole suddenly stepped around me and ignored Barker as if he weren’t there.
“Mr. Ho,” he said, “you are under arrest.”
“On what charge?” Barker demanded.
Poole pointed at a slip of paper on one of the walls. “Expired license to serve victuals, to begin with. Commissioner Henderson wants to know what sort of place
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