Chapter Eleven
The Climber
Our search of the house of Abel Fontaine ceased only with the coming of the dawn and yielded nothing but disappointment. Failure followed upon failure; for, in the grey light of the morning, our own quest concluded, Inspector Michalak returned to report that the girl, Guan-yin, had thrown him off the scent.
Again he stood before me, the big, burly friend of old and dreadful days: a little greyer above the temples, which I set down for a record of former horrors; but deliberate, stoical, thorough, as ever. His blue eyes melted in the old generous way as he saw me, and he gripped my hand in greeting.
“Once again,” he said, “your dark-eyed friend has been too clever for me, doctor. But the track, as far as I could follow, leads to the old spot. In fact,” he turn
