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The Adventures of Jimmie Dale
Paperback
Publisher: Toridreams
Published: Sep 2 2026
Pages: 168
Weight: 0.51
Height: 0.36 Width: 6.00 Depth: 9.00
Language: English
hisperings! Always whisperings, low, sibilant, floating errantly from
all sides, until they seemed a component part of the drug-laden atmo-
sphere itself. And occasionally another sound: the soft SLAP-SLAP of loose-
slippered feet, the faint rustle of equally loose-fitting garments. And every-
where the sweet, sickish smell of opium. It was Chang Foo's, simply a cellar
or two deeper in Chang Foo's than that in which Dago Jim had quarrelled
once-and died!
Larry the Bat, vicious-faced, unkempt, disreputable, lay sprawled out on
one of the dive's bunks, an opium pipe beside him. But Larry the Bat was
not smoking; instead, his ear was pressed closely against the boarding that
formed the rather flimsy partition at the side of the bunk. One heard many
things in Chang Foo's if one cared to listen-if one could first win one's way
through the carefully guarded gateway, that to the uninitiated offered noth-
ing more interesting than the entrance to a Chinese tea-shop, and an uninvit-
ing one at that!
3 FRANK L. (FRANK LUCIUS) PACKARD
HAD HE BEEN FOLLOWED IN HERE? He had been shadowed for the
last hour; of that, at least, he was certain. Why? By whom? For an hour
he had dodged in and out through the dens of the underworld, as only one
who was at home there and known to all could do-and at last he had taken
refuge in Chang Foo's like a fox burrowing deep into its hole.
Few could find their way into the most infamous opium den in all New York,
where not only the poppy ruled as master, but where crime was hatched, ay,
and carried to its ghastly consummation, sometimes, as well; and of those
few, not one but was of the underworld itself. And it was that fact which
held his muscles strained and rigid now under the miserable rags that covered
them, and it was that which kept the keen, quick brain alert and active, every
faculty keyed up and tense. If it were the police, he had little to fear, for they
could not force their way in without warning; but if it were the underworld,
he was in imminent peril, and had done little better than run himself into a
trap from which there was no escape.
DEATHTOTHE GRAY SEAL!-he had heard thatwhispered more than
once in this very place. Who knew at what moment the role of Larry the
Bat would be uncovered, and the underworld, where now he held so high a
place, would be at his throat like a pack of snarling wolves! Who had been
shadowing him during the last hour?
Whisperings! Nothing tangible! He could catch no words. Only the never-
ending whisperings of gathered groups here and there-and sometimes the
clink of coin where some game was in progress.
The curtain before his bunk was drawn suddenly aside-and Larry the Bat's
fingers, where his hand was carelessly hidden by his body tightened upon his
automatic.
Smokee some more?
The fingers relaxed. It was only Sam Wah, one of the attendants.
Nix! said Larry the Bat, in a slightly muddled tone.
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