"You don't have to tell me that Bolton isn't the most agreeable company,
but I'll be much obliged if you'll cultivate his acquaintance a little
further."
"Do you mean that you want me to pretend to accept his offer? I
couldn't do that. I couldn't take his money."
"Do you think you would get it?"
"He offered a thousand dollars a week. I'd get that as long as the job
lasted."
"Well, fix it up to suit yourself. But if you can find some way to keep
him talking, you may get the one word that will join the different ends
of his scheme together. Here we have his dealings with Big Sam and the
Council of Nine, and his battery of notes ready to fire at me. A little
more, and we may see his whole plan. Once I get that, I'll fix a scheme
to scoop his pile out from under him so quick that he'll think an
earthquake has struck him." And with this hint he excused me for the
night.
As I went out into the big hall, I looked regretfully at the library
door, with a mental vision of the pleasure of spending an evening in
converse with Miss Kendrick setting my pulses to beating. But with
Spartan resolve, I crushed down my emotions with the notion that it was
my duty to attend the Nob Hill meeting of the agitators.
"Oh, you aren't going without so much as saying 'How is Moon Ying?' are
you?" said a piquant voice; and at the words, I turned to see Miss
Kendrick coming down the stairs. Her light dress and graceful motions
suggested the vision of a fairy floating down from some celestial region
with the benevolent purpose of cheering the life of mortals--a purpose
that met my instant and hearty approval. At the sound of her voice, the
reasons that had drawn me toward the Nob Hill meeting were whisked away
like so many scraps of paper before the summer breeze, and I stammered
out some clumsy expression of my pleasure in remaining.
"Well," said Miss Kendrick, "I've heard that appearances are deceptive,
and now I'm sure of it. You were a very good imitation of a man planning
an escape." And she led the way into the library.
"There was something in the appearance," I said. "I was wishing to
escape from the duty of going down town."
"Oh, if it's a matter of duty, I shouldn't think of interfering."
"I can't see now why I thought it so," I returned, "but I was suspecting
there might be the chance of a fight."
"Well, if there's to be any fighting," said Miss Kendrick in some alarm,
"I'll give you a bit of advice, and that is to keep out of it."
"There's to be a meeting of the anti-Chinese clubs to-night up by the
Stanford-Hopkins houses, and it may start a riot," I explained. "I
didn't know but I ought to go to it."
"The curiosity of these men!" she sighed. "And they talk of the
inquisitiveness of women. Why, you might have fifty riots, and you'd
never see me going near one of them--not if I heard of it beforehand."
"I hope not. But it isn't altogether curiosity that would lead me to
attend."
"You don't mean that you have any crazy idea of trying to stop the
fighting if it begins?"
"Well, no."
"Then you just leave the business of the police to the police," she
said. "I'm beginning to believe that you need a guardian."
"I believe so, too," I replied, with the thought that I saw a very
desirable person for the place. I was tempted to say as much, but Miss
Kendrick responded hastily:
"I wouldn't envy him his position." Then she added: "I'm not sorry I
interrupted you in your foolishness, but I shouldn't have done so if I
hadn't wanted to take counsel with you."
I wished she had chosen a more complimentary way of putting it, but
professed myself all readiness to listen.
"There was a Chinaman here a little while ago," she began, and then she
described in detail her interview with the little old man in the hall.
As she told her tale my thoughts were busy with the insistent
question--where had I seen the Chinaman before?
"Now, what does that mean?" she demanded, when her tale was done.
As she asked the question the problem was solved. A sudden picture
flashed into my mind of the old Chinaman who had posed as the girl's
father after she had been stolen.
"It means nothing, I think--some peddler with silk handkerchiefs to
sell, perhaps," I replied, with an effort to put a careless indifference
into my voice.
"You think nothing of the kind," said Miss Kendrick. "I don't see why
you treat me like a child. I'm not a child, and I am wishing that you
would discover it." She spoke with a little of wistfulness in her voice
and manner. "Tell me honestly what you think about the visit of the
Chinaman?" she said pleadingly.