"Monte Irvin, alderman of the city and prospective Lord Mayor of London, paced restlessly from end to end of the well-appointed library of his house in Prince’s Gate. "

What was "the whistling death?" That was the question that confronted Scotland Yard one night as the thick yellow fog rolled heavily into the mysterious room where Limehouse's richest Chinaman lay murdered. Nothing was further from the mind of Bernard Hope, sitting comfortably in his compartment of the 8:05 train from Blackwall, than thoughts of crime or death—but when an exotically beautiful girl with an olive skin and slanting eyes stepped suddenly in, evidently badly frightened, and begged him for protection—he found himself caught in a net that nearly cost him his life.