Ling Foo saw his thousand shrink to the original five hundred, but there
was no help for it. At half after ten he knocked on the panel of Jane's
door and waited. He knocked again; still the summons was not answered. The
third assault was emphatic. Ling Foo heard footsteps, but behind him. He
turned. The meddling young officer was striding toward him.
"What are you doing here?" Dennison demanded.
His own appearance in the corridor at this hour might have been
subjectable to inquiry. He had left Jane at nine. He had seen her to the
lift. Perhaps he had walked the Bund for an hour or two, but worriedly.
The thought of the arrival in Shanghai of his father and the rogue
Cunningham convinced him that some queer game was afoot, and that it
hinged somehow upon those beads.
There was no sighing in regard to his father, for the past that was. An
astonishing but purely accidental meeting; to-morrow each would go his
separate way again. All that was a closed page. He had long ago readjusted
his outlook on the basis that reconciliation was hopeless.
A sudden impulse spun him on his heel, and he hurried back to the Astor.
The hour did not matter, or the possibility that Jane might be abed. He
would ask permission to become the temporary custodian of the beads. What
were they, to have brought his father across the Pacific--if indeed they
had? Anyhow, he would end his own anxiety in regard to Jane by assuming
the risks, if any, himself.
No one questioned him; his uniform was a passport that required no visé.
Ling Foo eyed him blandly.
"I am leaving for the province in the morning, so I had to come for my
jade to-night. But the young lady is not in her room."
"She must be!" cried Dennison, alarmed. "Miss Norman?" he called, beating
on the door.
No sound answered from within. Dennison pondered for a moment. Ling Foo
also pondered--apprehensively. He suspected that some misfortune had
befallen the young woman, for her kind did not go prowling alone round
Shanghai at night. Slue-Foot! Should he utter his suspicion to this
American officer? But if it should become a police affair! Bitterly he
arraigned himself for disclosing his hand to Slue-Foot. That demon had
forestalled him. No doubt by now he had the beads. Ten thousand devils
pursue him!
Dennison struck his hands together, and by and by a sleepy Chinese boy
came scuffling along the corridor.
"Talkee manager come topside," said Dennison. When the manager arrived,
perturbed, Dennison explained the situation.