"What does that say?" I asked.
Kwan Luey took the paper, and drew his eyelids together till there
showed but two narrow slanting slits between them as he pretended to
examine it.
"Him say--him say--I look-em book and see what him say." And with his
bland smile still rendering his face innocent of meaning, he retired to
his office. He reappeared a moment later.
"Him say you dlaw two hund' fitty dollah," was his announcement.
The comedy of the lottery ticket was being played out to the end. I was
convinced that the paper was a direct order from Big Sam to pay me the
money, but as I looked into the brown mask of Kwan Luey's face I
recognized the folly of attempting to draw from him any word that he was
unwilling to speak. But as he counted twelve twenty-dollar gold pieces
and a ten into my hand I could not forbear saying:
"And what does Big Sam expect me to do with the money?"
I thought I detected a slight movement of Kwan Luey's eyes--a momentary
contraction of the lids, as though a beam of light had flashed across
them and was gone. It was the only sign of surprise I could detect.
"You sabby Big Sam?" he asked blandly.
"Yes, I sabby Big Sam."
"And you no sabby what to do with you' money? You no sabby dlink--all
same Clistian? You no sabby hoss-lace? You no sabby pokah?" And at
this enumeration of the white man's facilities for disposing of
superfluous wealth he laughed with the ironic laugh of China.
I suggested that Big Sam might have intended another destination for the
money.
"Oh," said Kwan Luey innocently, "you likee Big Sam tell you what do? I
likee send letteh to Big Sam. You takee letteh, him tell you what do."
The letter was already in his hand, and he passed it to me as gravely as
though the coincidence was but one of the common events of life.
"I see that you were prepared for me," I said, with a tinge of sarcasm
in my voice, and wondered how Kwan Luey would have brought the errand
about if I had not served his purpose by introducing Big Sam's name.
The Chinaman smiled placidly.
"I no sabby," he said. "Good-by. Some day you wan' some nice thing,
you come Kwan Luey's stoah."
I drew the conclusion that Big Sam wished to see me, and had arranged
that Kwan Luey was to find a pretext for sending me to his office. Why
he should not himself have sent word of his wish, I could not guess,
unless it was a part of his policy to avoid direct paths where
indirection could be made to serve.
A few minutes later I walked into the store beneath Big Sam's residence
and put foot on the dingy stair that led to his office. A short, stout
Chinaman tried to halt me with a "What you wan'?" but I pushed him aside
and passed up the steps. I knew my way through the semi-darkness of the
passage, and stumbled upward without wish for guidance or thought of
danger. I had not mounted half the ascent before I heard something of a
commotion above me--the shutting of a door, a scurry of feet, and a
rumbling sound as though a heavy table had been moved across the floor.
I amused myself with the thought that I had caught Big Sam's household
unprepared for visitors and imagined the flight of the feminine portion
of his family at the sound of my approaching footfall.
I reached the landing. The hall was deserted, and, turning toward the
building's front, I knocked at the one door that led from the passage.
There was no answer, and I knocked again. As a third knock brought no
response I turned the knob and opened the door for myself. To my
surprise Big Sam's room of state had disappeared. In place of the large
and handsome office, with its profusion of ornamentation and its
oriental furniture, I found myself looking into a narrow passageway
between blank walls. I looked about the hall with the thought that I
must have mistaken the door. But there was no other entrance to be
seen, and I looked again in perplexity at the passage, unwilling to
believe the evidence of my eyes. As I turned to make sure of the
transformation I heard a click as of a spring lock snapped, a smart push
at my back sent me staggering forward, and the door banged behind me.
It took but a moment to recover myself and face about. But I was too
late. The door had been securely locked. A few blows on the panels
sufficed to assure me that it was of too solid construction to yield to
anything less powerful than an ax; and though the frame rattled at my
efforts, I saw that I was a prisoner, unless I could find some other way
of egress. I spared the door the kicks and blows that were called for
by my first impulse. If I had been fool enough to get into this trap, I
had at least sense enough to recognize that I should not better myself
by knocking the skin off my knuckles in the effort to attract attention.
The persons whose ears I could reach did not need to be informed of my
presence. They had attended to the little detail of putting me there,
and might be assumed to be aware of the honor I was doing them without
further demonstration of the fact.
I turned to look once more at my prison. It was hardly five feet wide,
and might have been thirty feet long, and appeared to turn a sharp
corner and lead toward the rear of the building. Evidently I was at the
entrance of one of the labyrinths of Chinatown, famous in police
reports.
Up to this moment I had felt no fear at my situation. It seemed indeed
to be something of a practical joke at which I could afford to laugh. I
had evidently wandered into the wrong building, been mistaken for a
detective, or a tax collector, or some equally unpleasant person, and
had been turned in here out of the way of doing mischief. I had but to
reveal the object of my visit--provided I could find anybody to reveal
it to--and I should be sent on my way with apologies. But some
remembrance of the gruesome tales of the deeds that had been done in
these labyrinths suggested that the sooner I found speech with some one,
the better chance of safety I should have. I was about to venture down
the passage in search of a guide when I was startled to hear a voice
speaking in my ear in perfect English:
"If Mr. Hampden will have the patience to wait a moment, he will be
welcome."
It was the voice of Big Sam, and I looked about me with the thought that
I should find him at my side. But I was still the only tenant of the
passage, and in perplexity I scanned the walls and ceiling. At a second
glance my eye lighted upon a small bull's-eye of glass set in the wall.
It doubtless served as an observatory from which suspicious characters
might be examined, and some arrangement of speaking tubes gave
communication by voice.
"Thank you," I said, as I made these observations. "I am in no hurry."
I had scarce spoken when a part of the wall swung back, and Big Sam
stood in the opening.
*CHAPTER XIII*
*THE WISDOM OF HIS ANCESTORS*
Big Sam was dressed in a long dark robe figured with fantastic markings
in gold thread, and, as he stood in the opening in the wall, had the
appearance of an astrologer who took himself seriously. His face wore a
grave smile, and he bowed, as though he were receiving me under the most
conventional circumstances.
"Step this way, if you please, Mr. Hampden," he said with quiet dignity.
I hastened to quit the bare and narrow prison, and was astonished to
find myself amid the oriental splendor of Big Sam's room of state.
"I ask your pardon for the somewhat unceremonious welcome you have had,"
said Big Sam, motioning me to a chair, and taking his seat behind the
great carved desk.
"Don't mention it," I said. "I suppose it's your customary way of
paying honor to distinguished guests."
Big Sam gave my pleasantry a dignified smile.
"We have to be prepared for more than one kind of visitor," he said.
"Perhaps it is unnecessary to call your attention to the circumstance
that you made no saving of time when you declined to give your name and
business to the man who met you at the foot of the stairs. It is a mere
detail, but on your next visit you will find a shorter way to this room
by sending up your name."
"I shall take advantage of the permission, but I didn't suppose it
necessary."
"These are troublous times," said Big Sam, "and I have more than one
very good reason to take precautions."
"I might suppose so from the change you have made in the entrance to
your rooms," I returned.
Big Sam gave me a quick glance.
"The change is more apparent than real," he said. Then, as if the
subject were dismissed, he turned the conversation abruptly. "I believe
you wished to see me."
The attempt to put me in the position of seeking him, instead of being
the one sought, irritated me more than the rude reception I had met on
my arrival.
"I came," I said sharply, "because I had reason to suppose that you had
something to say to me."
"I?" said Big Sam in polite surprise.
"Yes. I have just received two hundred and fifty dollars on the order
you gave me the other day, and, for one thing, I'd like to know what to
do with it."
"On an order from me?" inquired Big Sam suavely.
There was only the blank "no-sabby" mask of China on his face.
"Yes," I replied shortly. "It you've forgotten our interview in Peter
Bolton's office, maybe this will remind you." And I laid before him the
sheet of paper I had received from Kwan Luey.
Big Sam glanced at it, and I thought I saw behind the veil of his eyes
the shadow of a frown. But if it was there, it was gone in an instant,
and he replied blandly:
"Ah, you have proved fortunate in the lottery, then."
"I was paid two hundred and fifty dollars," was my non-committal answer.
"I congratulate you on your good luck."
"Thank you," I said sarcastically. "And now I am awaiting my
instructions."
"Why," said Big Sam slowly, "if you have any scruples about keeping it
for yourself, you might apply it to the expenses of the girl you have
taken in charge."
"That was what I was waiting for," I said. I did not share Big Sam's
pleasure in reaching results by indirect roads, and spoke impatiently.
"Is that all you had to say?"
"I believe," said Big Sam with ironic courtesy, "that I have some speech
still due me. Unless I am much mistaken I have received no report of a
certain girl since I delivered her into your hands. Possibly I am wrong
in supposing that the circumstances give me any rights."
"I dare say I owe you an apology," I said, with swift repentance of my
show of temper. "But I understood from what you said in Mr. Bolton's
office that you were in no pressing haste to hear from her."
"Pardon me, if I have no recollection of a meeting in Mr. Bolton's
office," said Big Sam dryly. "We shall get on faster if you will kindly
assume that it did not take place."
The "no-sabby" mask covered his face, as impenetrable as the blank walls
of the passageway itself.
"As you like," I said. "Then, here is my belated report." And I gave a
brief account of the events that had followed the rescue of Moon Ying.
At the mention of her wound, Big Sam looked grave, and when I had done
he said:
"I had received information that something of the kind had happened, but
your silence gave me chance to hope that my informant was mistaken."
"No doubt I ought to have reported to you at once. I can only offer
apologies for my neglect."
Big Sam gravely bowed in pardon of my remissness.
"It is a very awkward affair," he said. "And it will prove much more
awkward if she dies."
"She is now out of danger."
"I trust so. Her death would send the tongs at each other's throats."
"And at yours?"
"I should find it necessary to be absent from the city for some months,"
he said quietly.
"You might look on it in the light of a vacation," I suggested.
"Unfortunately it is of the last importance that I should be here
through the coming months."
"I presume that I am not expected to understand why."
"If you have kept your eyes open, you may have some idea of the reason."
He spoke with a tinge of sarcasm in his tone.
"Oh, a man can not always be sure of his eyes," I replied, with a
reflection of his manner. "It is true, I know that violence is
threatened against your people, and that Chinatown is likely to be
burned down before the troubles are over. I know that, for reasons that
seem good to himself, Peter Bolton is furnishing money to aid in the
campaign of disorder. But what I do not know is the reason why Big Sam
is engaged in secret dealings with Peter Bolton. On its face it looks
to me like the case of a man joining in a plot to burn his own home."
Big Sam drew down the veils of inscrutability over his eyes as he looked
steadily at me, and asked:
"What result do you expect from the agitation?"
"For the first thing, destruction of property and the killing of some of
your countrymen."
"Oh," said Big Sam carelessly, "as for the property, it belongs mostly
to your countrymen. We prefer to keep our belongings in movable form.
And as for my countrymen, if any of them get killed, there are plenty
more where they came from."
A shiver ran down my back at this cold-blooded way of looking at the
matter, and with some element of repulsion in my thought, I replied
sharply:
"But those countrymen may not be able to reach here. The final result
of the troubles, in my judgment, will be the shutting of our gates to
the Chinese immigrant."
"Even that might not be altogether a misfortune," said Big Sam calmly.
"Not to us, I believe," I said.
"And not to us," said Big Sam.
"I'm glad you take so kindly to the idea," I said.
"Oh, it's very simple," he explained, "a mere calculation of dollars and
cents. Shut off the supply, you increase the value of those now here.
If no more of my countrymen come, you will find none working for ten and
fifteen dollars a month. In a few years the ten-dollar man will be
getting twenty; the fifteen-dollar man will be getting thirty; the men
who are working in the fields and on the railroads for seventy-five
cents and a dollar a day will be getting a dollar and a half and two
dollars."
"That's a new view of the matter--to me, at least," I confessed. "But
even that calculation will be much amiss if the agitators get the upper
hand. They call for expulsion--not merely exclusion. They say 'The
Chinese Must Go,' and some of them mean it."
"I have no fear," said Big Sam calmly. "Their violence will overreach
itself. I may say that I rely upon them more than on the justice of our
cause to prevent hostile action against my people. The more violent
their outbreak, the stronger the reaction, and the less the likelihood
of harsh measures to restrict our right to come and go as we please.
Come, Mr. Hampden, I will wager you a good cigar that we have a rising
in San Francisco that will call out the United States troops, and that
there will be no legislation against my people."
I looked into the bland and impassive face before me, and wondered if
the considerations at which he had thus hinted could explain his
alliance with Bolton. It was in keeping with the principles of oriental
diplomacy that he should be planning to prevent exclusion by encouraging
the agitators to violence, and be prepared to profit by either success
or failure. Yet as I looked into the fathomless brown depths of his
eyes, I refused to believe that he had revealed the full measure of his
policy or the reasons for it.
"I will certainly risk a cigar on that," I returned gaily.
"Then you consider the exclusion of my people inevitable?"
"I do. It is necessary to the control of this coast by the white race,
and I feel certain that it must come."
"I do not recognize the necessity of the white race controlling this
coast," said Big Sam dryly.
"Probably not."
"Besides, you forget that there is a class of your own people who will
be much injured by an exclusion policy," he said. "The steamship and
railroad companies will lose much money. The man who employs a hundred
laborers will find his expenses increased by fifty dollars or one
hundred dollars a day. Do you think they are going to submit quietly?
The exclusion policy will find its enemies among your own people."
"Then you will take no part in the struggle?" I inquired.
Big Sam gave his head a diplomatic shake.
"I am a guest in your country, and I understand the obligations that
such a position implies." He spoke the words exactly as he would have
said, "I shall protect my own interests," and, by an intangible
suggestion, it was this meaning that they conveyed to me. Then he
turned the current of conversation abruptly:
"I think," he said, "it is well to bring the girl back here where she
can have the care of a doctor of her own race." He spoke with outward
calmness, but there was a trace of inward perturbation in his manner.