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Updated: May 13, 2025
One heard many things in Chang Foo's if one cared to listen if one could first win one's way through the carefully guarded gateway, that to the uninitiated offered nothing more interesting than the entrance to a Chinese tea-shop, and an uninviting one at that! HAD HE BEEN FOLLOWED IN HERE? He had been shadowed for the last hour; of that, at least, he was certain. Why? By whom?
He could not see what had become of the man; the counter intervened. A tingle ran through Ling Foo's body, and he knew that his brain had gained control of his body again. But before this brain could telegraph to his legs three men rushed into the shop. A bubble of sound came into Ling Foo's throat one of those calls for help that fear smothers.
"Quick!" he flung at the startled chauffeur. "The nearest subway station there's a ten-spot in it for you! Quick man QUICK! Here they come!" A crowd of Chinese, pouring like angry hornets from Chang Foo's shop, came yelling down the street and the taxi took the corner on two wheels and Jimmie Dale, panting, choking for his breath like a man spent, sank back against the cushions.
Cunningham dipped his hand into a pocket, and magically a dozen double eagles rolled and vibrated upon the counter, sending into Ling Foo's ears that music so peculiar to gold. Many days had gone by since he had set his gaze upon the yellow metal. His hand reached down only to feel but not so quickly as the white hand, which scooped up the coin trickily, with the skill of a prestidigitator.
"Trade them? Good heavens, yes! Of all things! Here!" Jane unclasped the beads and thrust them toward Ling Foo's eager claw. But Dennison reached out an intervening hand. "Just a moment, Miss Norman. What's the game?" he asked of Ling Foo. Ling Foo silently cursed all this meddler's ancestors from Noah down, but his face expressed only mild bewilderment. "Game?" "Yes.
Spent evening at Chu Han's dancing hall. Got very friendly with a pretty little Chinese girl who spoke pigeon English. Am seeing her to-morrow at Ling Foo's. She is called 'The Little Narcissus. I called her 'My Little Daffodil' " Mr. Milburgh stopped in his reading. "Little Daffodil!" he repeated, then looked at the ceiling and pinched his thick lips.
Jimmie Dale straightened up suddenly in his seat. There was a shout, an oath bawled out high above the riot of noise, a chorus of feminine shrieks from across the room. What was the matter with the underworld to-night? He seemed fated to find nothing but centres of disturbance first a raid at Chang Foo's, and now this. What was the matter here?
It seemed as though a year had passed since, in the early evening, as Larry the Bat, he had burrowed so ironically for refuge in Chang Foo's den from her!
I could have flung it back in their faces! foo's that they were to believe I cared for gold! Philip! Philip! you were mad to think of the heiress as a wife; it had been better for you had you cared to look on me on me who loved you so! Then I should never have ruined you never betrayed you to Lady Sarah! But I could not forgive the hard words you gave me; I could not forgive your love for Julia!
There was a click, the door swung open, and Jimmie Dale, alias Larry the Bat, stepped outside into a back yard half a block away from the entrance to Chang Foo's. Again he listened. There did not appear to be any unusual excitement in the neighbourhood.
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