Morning and winnowed skies; China awake. The great black-and-gold banners
were again fluttering in Nanking Road. Mongolian ponies clattered about,
automobiles rumbled, 'rickshas jogged. Venders were everywhere, many with
hot rice and bean curd. Street cleaners in bright-red cotton jackets were
busy with the mud puddles. The river swarmed with sampans and barges and
launches. There was only one lifeless thing in all Shanghai that
morning--the German Club.
In the city hospital the man Morrissy, his head in bandages, smiled feebly
into Cunningham's face.
"Were you mad to try a game like that? What the devil possessed you? Three
to one, and never a ghost of a chance. You never blew up like this before.
What's the answer?"
"Just struck me, Dick--one of those impulses you can't help. I'm sorry.
Ought to have known I'd have no chance, and you'd have been justified in
croaking me. Just as I was in the act of handing them over to you the idea
came to bolt. All that dough would keep me comfortably the rest of my
life."
"What happened to them?"
"Don't know. After that biff on the coco I only wanted some place to crawl
into. I had them in my hand when I started to run. Sorry."
"Have they quizzed you?"
"Yes, but I made out I couldn't talk. What's the dope?"
"You were in a rough-and-tumble down the Chinese Bund, and we got you
away. Play up to that."
"All right. But, gee! I won't be able to go with you."
"If we have any luck, I'll see you get a share."
"That's white. You were always a white man, Dick. I feel like a skunk. I
knew I couldn't put it over, with the three of you at my elbow. What the
devil got into me?"
"Any funds?"
"Enough to get me down to Singapore. Where do you want me to hang out?"
"Suit yourself. You're out of this play--and it's my last."
"You're quitting the big game?"
"Yes. What's left of my schedule I'm going to run out on my own. So we
probably won't meet again for a long time, Morrissy. Here's a couple of
hundred to add to your store. If we find the beads I'll send your share
wherever you say."
"Might as well be Naples. They're off me in the States."
"All right. Cook's or the American Express?"
"Address me the Milan direct."
Cunningham nodded.
"Well, good-bye."
"Good-bye, Dick. I'm sorry I gummed it up."
"I thought you'd be. Good-bye."
But as Cunningham passed from sight, the man on the cot smiled ironically
at the sun-splashed ceiling. A narrow squeak, but he had come through.
Cunningham, grateful for the sunshine, limped off toward Woosung Road,
grotesquely but incredibly fast for a man with only one sound leg. He
never used a cane, having the odd fancy that a stick would only emphasize
his affliction. He might have taken a 'ricksha this morning, but he never
thought of it until he had crossed Soochow Creek.
But Ling Foo was not in his shop and the door was locked. Cunningham
explored the muddy gutters all the way from Ling Foo's to Moy's tea house,
where the meeting had taken place. He found nothing, and went into Moy's
to wait. Ling Foo would have to pass the restaurant. A boy who knew the
merchant stood outside to watch.
* * * * *
Jane woke at nine. The brightness of the window shade told her that the
sun was clear. She sprang out of bed, a trill of happiness in her throat.
The shops! Oh, the beautiful, beautiful shops!
"China, China, China!" she sang.
She threw up the shade and squinted for a moment. The sun in the heavens
and the reflection on the Whangpoo were blinding. The sampans made her
think of ants, darting, scuttling, wheeling.
"Oh, the beautiful shops!"
Of all the things in the world--this side of the world--worth having,
nothing else seemed comparable to jade--a jade necklace. Not the stone
that looked like dull marble with a greenish pallor--no. She wanted the
deep apple-green jade, the royal, translucent stone. And she knew that she
had as much chance of possessing the real article as she had of taking her
pick of the scattered Romanoff jewels.
Jane held to the belief that when you wished for something you couldn't
have it was niggardly not to wish magnificently.
She dressed hurriedly, hastened through her breakfast of tea and toast and
jam, and was about to sally forth upon the delectable adventure, when
there came a gentle knock on the door. She opened it, rather expecting a
boy to announce that Captain Dennison was below. Outside stood a Chinaman
in a black skirt and a jacket of blue brocade. He was smiling and
kotowing.
"Would the lady like to see some things?"
"Come in," said Jane, readily.
Ling Foo deposited his pack on the floor and opened it. He had heard that
a single woman had come in the night before and, shrewd merchant that he
was, he had wasted no time.
"Furs!" cried Jane, reaching down for the Manchurian sable. She blew aside
the top fur and discovered the smoky down beneath. She rubbed her cheek
against it ecstatically. She wondered what devil's lure there was about
furs and precious stones that made women give up all the world for them.
Was that madness hidden away in her somewhere?
"How much?"
She knew beforehand that the answer would render the question utterly
futile.
"A hundred Mex," said Ling Foo. "Very cheap."
"A hundred Mex?" That would be nearly fifty dollars in American money.
With a sigh she dropped the fur. "Too much for me. How much is that
Chinese jacket?"
"Twenty Mex."
Jane carried it over to the window.
"I will give you fifteen for it."
"All right."
Ling Foo was willing to forego his usual hundred per cent. profit in order
to start the day with a sale. Then he spread out the grass linen.
Jane went into raptures over some of the designs, but in the end she shook
her head. She wanted something from Shanghai, something from Hong-Kong,
something from Yokohama. If she followed her inclination she would go
broke here and now.
"Have you any jade? Understand, I'm not buying. Just want to see some."
"No, lady; but I can bring you some this afternoon."
"I warn you, I'm not buying."
"I shall be glad to show the lady. What time shall I call?"
"Oh, about tea time."
Ling Foo reached inside his jacket and produced a string of cut-glass
beads.
"How pretty! What are they?"
"Glass."
Jane hooked the string round her neck and viewed the result in the
mirror. The sunshine, striking the facets, set fire to the beads. They
were really lovely. She took a sudden fancy to them.
"How much?"
"Four Mex." It was magnanimous of Ling Foo.
"I'll take them." They were real, anyhow. "Bring your jade at tea time and
call for Miss Norman. I can't give you any more time."
"Yes, lady."
Ling Foo bundled up his assorted merchandise and trotted away infinitely
relieved. The whole affair was off his hands. In no wise could the police
bother him now. He knew nothing; he would know nothing until he met his
honourable ancestors.
From ten until three Jane, under the guidance of Captain Dennison, stormed
the shops on the Bunds and Nanking Road; but in returning to the Astor
House she realized with dismay that she had expended the major portion of
her ammunition in this offensive. She doubted if she would have enough to
buy a kimono in Japan. It was dreadful to be poor and to have a taste for
luxury and an eye for beauty.
"Captain," she said as they sat down to tea, "I'm going to ask one more
favour."
"What is it?"
"A Chinaman is coming with some jade. If I'm alone with him I'm afraid
I'll buy something, and I really can't spend another penny in Shanghai."
"I see. Want me to shoo him off in case his persistence is too much for
you."
"Exactly. It's very nice of you."
"Greatest pleasure in the world. I wish the job was permanent--shooing 'em
away from you."
She sent him a quick sidelong glance, but he was smiling. Still, there was
something in the tone that quickened her pulse. All nonsense, of course;
both of them stony, as the Britishers put it; both of them returning to
the States for bread and butter.
"Why didn't you put up here?" she asked. "There is plenty of room."
"Well, I thought perhaps it would be better if I stayed at the Palace."
"Nonsense! Who cares?"
"I do." And this time he did not smile.
"I suppose my Chinaman will be waiting in the lobby."
"Let's toddle along, then."
Dennison followed her out of the tea room, his gaze focused on the back of
her neck, and it was just possible to resist the mad inclination to bend
and kiss the smooth, ivory-tinted skin. He was not ready to analyze the
impulse for fear he might find how deep down the propellant was. A woman,
young in the heart, young in the body, and old in the mind, disillusioned
but not embittered, unafraid, resourceful, sometimes beautiful and
sometimes plain, but always splendidly alive.
Perhaps the wisest move on his part was to avoid her companionship, invent
some excuse to return by the way of Manila, pretend he had transfer
orders. To spend twenty-one days on the same ship with her and to keep his
head seemed a bit too strong. Had there been something substantial
reaching down from the future--a dependable job--he would have gone with
her joyously. But he had not a dollar beyond his accumulated pay; that
would melt quickly enough when he reached the States. He was thirty; he
would have to hustle to get anywhere by the time he was forty. His only
hope was that back in the States they were calling for men who knew how to
manage men, and he had just been discharged--or recalled for that
purpose--from the best school for that. But they were calling for
specialists, too, and he was a jack of all trades and master of none.
He knew something about art, something about music, something about
languages; but he could not write. He was a fair navigator, but not fair
enough for a paying job. He could take an automobile engine apart and
reassemble it with skill, but any chauffeur could do that.
"Hadn't we better go into the parlour?" he heard Jane asking as they
passed out.
"We'll be alone there. It will be easier for you to resist temptation, I
suppose, if there isn't any audience. Audiences are nuisances. Men have
killed each other because they feared the crowd might mistake common sense
for the yellow streak."
Instantly the thought leaped into the girl's mind: Supposing such an event
lay back of this strange silence about his home and his people? She
recalled the ruthless ferocity with which he had broken up a street fight
between American and Japanese soldiers one afternoon in Vladivostok.
Supposing he had killed someone? But she had to repudiate this theory. No
officer in the United States Army could cover up anything like that.
"Come to the parlour," she said to Ling Foo, who was smiling and
kotowing.
Ling Foo picked up his blackwood box. Inwardly he was not at all pleased
at the prospect of having an outsider witness the little business
transaction he had in mind. Obliquely he studied the bronze mask. There
was no eagerness, no curiosity, no indifference. It struck Ling Foo that
there was something Oriental in this officer's repose. But five hundred
gold! Five hundred dollars in American gold--for a string of glass beads!
He set the blackwood box on a stand, opened it, and spread out jade
earrings, rings, fobs, bracelets, strings. The girl's eagerness caused
Ling Foo to sigh with relief. It would be easy.
"I warned you that I should not buy anything," said Jane, ruefully. "But
even if I had the money I would not buy this kind of a jade necklace. I
should want apple-green."
"Ah!" said Ling Foo, shocked with delight. "Perhaps we can make a bargain.
You have those glass beads I sold you this morning?"
"Yes, I am wearing them."
Jane took off her mink-fur collaret, which was sadly worn.
Ling Foo's hand went into his box again. From a piece of cotton cloth he
drew forth a necklace of apple-green jade, almost perfect.
"Oh, the lovely thing!" Jane seized the necklace. "To possess something
like this! Isn't it glorious, captain?"
"Let me see it." Dennison inspected the necklace carefully. "It is
genuine. Where did you get this?"
Ling Foo shrugged.
"Long ago, during the Boxer troubles, I bought it from a sailor."
"Ah, probably loot from the Peking palace. How much is it worth?"
Murder blazed up in Ling Foo's heart, but his face remained smilingly
bland.
"What I can get for it. But if the lady wishes I will give it to her in
exchange for the glass beads. I had no right to sell the beads," Ling Foo
went on with a deprecating gesture. "I thought the man who owned them
would never claim them. But he came this noon. Something belonging to his
ancestor--and he demands it."
"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. Why didn't you offer some other bits of jade? This string is worth
two or three hundred gold; and this is patently a string of glass beads,
handsomely cut, but nevertheless plain glass. What's the idea?"
"But I have explained!" protested Ling Foo. "The string is not mine. I
have in honour to return it."
"Yes, yes! That's all very well. You could have told this lady that and
offered to return her money. But a jade necklace like this one! No, Miss
Norman; my advice is to keep the beads until we learn what's going on."
"But to let that jade go!" she wailed comically.
"The lady may keep the jade until to-morrow. She may have the night to
decide. This is no hurry."
Ling Foo saw that he had been witless indeed. The thought of raising the
bid of five hundred gold to a thousand or more had bemused him, blunted
his ordinary cunning.
Inwardly he cursed his stupidity. But the appearance of a witness to the
transaction had set him off his balance. The officer had spoken shrewdly.
The young woman would have returned the beads in exchange for the sum she
had paid for them, and she would never have suspected--nor the officer,
either--that the beads possessed unknown value. Still, the innocent
covetousness, plainly visible in her eyes, told him that the game was not
entirely played out; there was yet a dim chance. Alone, without the
officer to sway her, she might be made to yield.
"The lady may wear the beads to-night if she wishes. I will return for
them in the morning."
"But this does not explain the glass beads," said the captain.
"I will bring the real owner with me in the morning," volunteered Ling
Foo. "He sets a high value on them through sentiment. Perhaps I was
hasty."
Dennison studied the glass beads. Perhaps his suspicions were not on any
too solid ground. Yet a string of jade beads like that in exchange!
Something was in the air.
"Well," said he, smiling at the appeal in the girl's eyes, "I don't
suppose there will be any harm in keeping them overnight. We'll have a
chance to talk it over."
Ling Foo's plan of attack matured suddenly. He would call near midnight.
He would somehow manage to get to her door. She would probably hand him
the glass beads without a word of argument. Then he would play his game
with the man who limped. He smiled inwardly as he put his wares back into
the carved box. A thousand gold! At any rate, he would press the man into
a corner. There was something about this affair that convinced Ling Foo
that his noon visitor would pay high for two reasons: one, to recover the
glass beads; the other, to keep out of the reach of the police.
Ling Foo considered that he was playing his advantage honestly. He hadn't
robbed or murdered anybody. A business deal had slipped into his hands and
it was only logical to make the most of it. He kotowed several times on
the way out of the parlour, conscious, however, of the searching eyes of
the man who had balked him.
"Well!" exclaimed Jane. "What in the world do you suppose is going on?"
"Lord knows, but something is going on. You couldn't buy a jade necklace
like that under five hundred in New York. This apple-green seldom runs
deep; the colour runs in veins and patches. The bulk of the quarried stone
has the colour and greasy look of raw pork. No; I shouldn't put it on just
now, not until you have washed it. You never can tell. I'll get you a
germicide at the English apothecary's. Glass beads! Humph! Hanged if I can
make it out. Glass; Occidental, too; maybe worth five dollars in the
States. Put it on again. It's a great world over here. You're always
stumbling into something unique. I'm coming over to dine with you
to-night."
"Splendid!"
Jane put the jade into her hand-bag, clasped the glass beads round her
neck again, and together she and Dennison walked toward the parlour door.
As they reached it a tall, vigorous, elderly man with a gray pompadour
started to enter. He paused, with an upward tilt of the chin, but the tilt
was the result of pure astonishment. Instinctively Jane turned to her
escort. His chin was tilted, too, and his expression was a match for the
stranger's. Later, recalling the tableau, which lasted but a moment, it
occurred to Jane that two men, suddenly confronted by a bottomless pit,
might have expressed their dumfounderment in exactly this fashion.
In the lobby she said rather breathlessly: "You knew each other and didn't
speak! Who is he?"
The answer threw her into a hypnotic state.
"My father," said Dennison, quietly.