CHAPTER XXXIII

AN ANTI-CLIMAX One hour later I stood in the entrance hall of our chambers in the court adjoining Fleet Street. Someone who had come racing up the stairs, now had inserted a key in the lock. Open swung the door—and Nayland Smith entered, in a perfect whirl of excitement. “Petrie! Petrie!” he cried, and seized both my hands—“you have missed a night of nights! Man alive! we have the whole gang—the great Ki-Ming included!” His eyes were blazing. “Weymouth has made no fewer than twenty-five arrests, some of the prisone…