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I cautioned him to talk lower for fear of hurting the Chinaman's feelings: this amused him immensely. He laughed very much, and, leaning over to the red-bearded man, repeated the joke: "I say, this young lady is afraid I might hurt the chow's feelin's. Golly! Fancy a bloomin' chow havin' any!" The other man also thought it a great joke.
Seizing a marking brush and a piece of paper, Chow Hop quickly wrote out Pennington's name, correctly spelled. His ability to write English with a good hand was one of Chow's great vanities, anyway. "You go back to your ironing board, yellow-face," warned Darrin, and something in the young third classman's face showed Chow that it would be wise to obey.
His hand was shaking when he wrote out the order, and his eyes were aching so dreadfully that he did not read over the order. It was only a Chinago's life he was signing away, anyway. So he did not notice that he had omitted the final letter in Ah Chow's name. The order read "Ah Cho," and, when Cruchot presented the order, the jailer turned over to him the person of Ah Cho.
Even Ah Chow remained expressionless as a mummy, though it was his head that was to be cut off. The magistrate added a few words, and the interpreter explained that Ah Chow's face having been most severely bruised by Schemmer's strap had made his identification so positive that, since one man must die, he might as well be that man.
The extemporized rope had just been lowered to Durham, when: "My God!" cried the sergeant, looking over Huang Chow's shoulder. "What's that?" He had seen the giant spider, the horror from Surinam, which the Chinaman had reared and fed to guard his treasure and to gratify his lust for the strange and cruel. The insect, like everything else in that house, was unusual, almost unique.
"I remember it perfectly; the giant spider in the coffin " "Yes; and a certain Ah Fu, confidential servant of the old man, who used to buy the birds the thing fed on. Well, Mr. Knox, Huang Chow was the biggest dealer in illicit stuff in all the East End and this battered thing at our feet is Ah Fu!" "Huang Chow's servant?" "Exactly!"
The two boys broke off their conversation a short time later and went back to the Administration Building for lunch with Tom's father. Mr. Swift greeted them with a smile as they entered the big double office. "Glad you could join me, boys! Chow's laid out quite a feast for us today."
The Chow's mother had evidently lost her heart to a bulldog. "Excuse the look of this back attic," she added. "I've got to move, and I'm in the middle of packing." "Of course," said Martin, eager to know why he had been sent for. "It's about Tootles, you said." "Very much so." She sat on the edge of the table, crossed her arms, and deliberately looked Martin over with expert eyes.
Tom showed him the drawings and explained his plan for dodging underwater detection. He also related how Chow's remarks about the radio music had sparked the idea. His chum slapped him on the back. "Good going, Tom!" "Let's fly right over to Fearing and see how it works on a jetmarine!" Tom proposed enthusiastically. Bud grinned but made no move.
"A scrambled radio alert, Dad," Tom gasped between chuckles. "Chow thought some Martian monsters were invading us, and sort of pushed the panic button." The Texan blushed as Tom explained what had happened. Realizing Chow's embarrassment, Tom tried to make his mistake sound understandable.
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