A thudding sound--that wasn't the wind. Ling Foo looked over his buttons.

He saw a human face outside the door; a beautiful boy's face--white. That

was the first impression. But as he stared he saw a man's fury destroy the

boyish stamp--gestures that demanded admission.

But Ling Foo shook his head with equal emphasis. He would not go near that

door again this night.

The man outside shook his fists threateningly, wheeled, and strode off.

Three strides took him out of sight; but Ling Foo, with a damp little

chill on his spine, remarked that the visitor limped.

So! This would be the man who had carried the bloody head and shoulders of

the unknown.

Oriental curiosity blazed up and over Ling Foo's distaste. What was it all

about? Why had the limping man returned and demanded entrance? What had

they done with the body? Pearls! The thought struck him as a blow. He

began to understand something of the episode. Pearls! The beaten man had

heard that sometimes Ling Foo of Woosung Road dealt in pearls without

being overcurious. A falling out among thieves, and one had tried to

betray his confederates, paying grimly for it. Pearls!

He trotted down to the door and peered into the night, but he could see

nothing. He wished now that he had purchased those window curtains such as

the white merchants used over on the Bund. Every move he made could be

seen from across the way, and the man who limped might be lurking there,

watching.

The man had come to him with pearls, but he had not been quick enough.

What had he done with them? The man with the slue-foot would not have

returned had he found the pearls on his moribund partner. That was sound

reasoning. Ling Foo's heart contracted, then expanded and began to beat

like a bird's wing. In here somewhere--on the floor!

He turned away from the door without haste. His Oriental mind worked

quickly and smoothly. He would tramp back and forth the length of the shop

as if musing, but neither nook nor crevice should escape his eye. He was

heir to these pearls. Slue-Foot--for so Ling Foo named his visitor--would

not dare molest him, since he, Ling Foo, could go to the authorities and

state that murder had been done. Those tiger eyes in a boy's face! His

spine grew cold.

Nevertheless, he set about his game. With his hands in his sleeves, his

chin down, he paced the passage between the two counters. As he turned for

the fifth journey a red-and-blue flash struck his eye. The flash came from

the far corner of the shop, from the foot of the gunpowder-blue temple

vase. Diamonds--not pearls but diamonds! Russian loot!




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