Indeed, in order to get at it properly, a good portion of the contents of the boat would have to be removed in any case.
"Ask her who she is and how she came to be there, Alice," the old detective called; adding:
"Yes, it's a woman," replied Alice, and she put the question.
"She says she is the Princess Skeep Hup," Alice called.
But when Alice put the question there came no reply.
"I'm afraid she has fainted!" said Alice, "or, indeed, she may be dead."
"A mystery!" cried Harry. "The mystery that came out of the mist."
To make a quick opening of the box containing the Chinese Princess was quite impossible.
Besides the difficulties already explained, there were others.
Examination showed that it was put together with screws, and that the boards were of some hard wood.
Air-holes bored in the sides at regular intervals showed that the imprisoned princess certainly ought to have no difficulty in breathing, and made it seem that her present unconsciousness was probably nothing more than a faint.
The landing at the bulkhead had now been made.
There appeared to be no watchman here--at least no one challenged the Secret Service party.
Behind the bulkhead extended a row of storage warehouses.
The boat had been tied up opposite a break in this row formed by a street extending back towards Amador street, the first of which parallels the Islais Creek Channel on the south.
The Bradys had plenty of rope, and the work of unloading now began.
Harry got into the sailboat along with the kicker and remained there.
Old King Brady, Alice and the other two Secret Service men ascended to the bulkhead.
Such boxes and opium bales as were piled on the larger box were transferred to the launch, and a rope made fast around the box, which was then hauled up, but not without considerable difficulty, and carried in front of the first warehouse of the row, where it was placed on the board platform.
Alice now called again to the imprisoned princess, but received no answer.
"I'll be blest if I see how we are ever going to get this thing open without a screw-driver," grumbled one of the Secret Service men.
"I can supply that want," replied the old detective, who usually has a few tools concealed in some of the many pockets of that wonderful blue coat.