The Yellow Snake by Edgar Wallace

She had been awakened from an uneasy sleep by the smashing in of her door, and had submitted, with a resolution, and a calm which were inexplicable to the watching Fing-Su, to be carried to the waiting car. The night was favourable to such a move; the streets were deserted, and nobody saw, in the two closed cars that moved swiftly towards Rotherhithe, anything of an unusual nature. It was not till she alighted on a deserted wharf, before she walked down the rickety stairs to the waiting boat, that she observed she had a companion in misfortune--somebody whose head was enveloped in a blanket, through which moans and whimperings were audible. She could never recall that journey from the shore to the ship. She had a vague recollection that somebody had carried her up a steep ladder and had deposited her on a wet and slippery deck, from which she rose with an effort. And then, through the rain, she had seen Fing-Su's peering face, and found herself pushed through the door of a poorly furnished cabin.

The Chinaman went to the door and called a name which she thought sounded like 'Mammy!' and presently a fat Chinese woman came waddling in, wiping her hands upon a soiled apron.