The crowd was not as large as it had been on the last pageant night. Nevertheless, it obscured the view of Ling Soo’s entrance. The lobby of the Mukden Theater was on a higher level, for the street sloped upward in that direction.
Cleve pushed his way to the curb, and moved across the street ahead of the approaching procession. He stationed himself at a new spot, and was pleased to note that here he could observe both Ling Soo’s door and the front of the theater.
Someone jostled against Cleve. He turned and stared squarely into the face of Joseph Darley!
An exclamation stopped on Cleve’s lips. His features formed a pleased grin. As Hugo Barnes, Cleve had escaped recognition. Darley had viewed him as a total stranger!
CLEVE watched the committeeman work his way along the street. What was Darley’s mission here tonight? A visit to Ling Soo?
Yes — the surmise was correct. The man had turned into the little entrance.
Knowing the comparative frequency of Darley’s visits to Ling Soo, Cleve realized that the meeting of the two men might be of small significance. Whatever might be discussed in relation to the Wu-Fan could be learned from Darley afterward.
But there was a very definite reason why Cleve could not communicate with Darley. That very morning, Cleve had announced that he was through with his investigation. Right now, he was supposed to be traveling east, away from San Francisco.
Banners were waving in the lighted streets. Exotic music was sounding with rhythmic beat. But Cleve scarcely saw or heard. A brilliant plan was forming in his mind.
Ling Soo had said that Hugo Barnes, as a new member of the Wu-Fan, would be welcome at headquarters any time. Cleve had never accepted the standing invitation.
Now was the time to do so! Perhaps, by visiting Ling Soo, he might be introduced to Darley and hear what the Chinaman was telling the chairman of the Civilian Committee!
A great idea, especially as Cleve’s disguise had proven its worth already, so far as Joseph Darley was concerned.
Acting upon the impulse, Cleve threaded his way past solemn Chinamen who were watching the parade. He reached the door to Ling Soo’s quarters and entered. The elevator came to the ground floor when he pushed the control button. Two minutes later, Cleve Branch was standing in Ling Soo’s anteroom.
A pull of the tasseled cord beside the door would summon Foy. But Cleve hesitated before performing the action. He noted that the door was ajar. Foy must have failed to close it tightly.
Softly, Cleve opened the door and stepped into Ling Soo’s hallway. The place was deserted.
It gave Cleve an idea for an excuse, should he be discovered. He could claim that he received no response to his ring — that he supposed it would be all right to enter. In character with Hugo Barnes, such an explanation might easily satisfy Ling Soo.
Cleve went forward to the brass-faced doors that bore the Chinese dragons. These portals, too, were slightly open. Not enough for Cleve to peer through, but sufficient for him to listen.
Pressing his ear to the crack, Cleve scanned the side wall and noted a hanging curtain in the hallway. It would afford a hiding place, should he need it.
The buzz of conversation reached his cars. English words were distinguishable. As Cleve listened, they became clearer, and he caught snatches of the talk.
“It is wise to wait,” came Ling Soo’s voice. “But it is not wise to wait too long—”
The words became inaudible. Perhaps the man was speaking in a lower voice. Cleve thought he heard the words “Wu-Fan” and “Tiger Tong.”
Then came Darley’s response.
“Los Angeles… next week…” These were the words that Cleve heard plainly.
“Last night…” This was only a snatch of Ling Soo’s statement “It has been settled… Green Eyes.”
There was an impressive sound to the final words. They were uttered as one would speak a name.
Green Eyes!
Dying, Stephen Laird had spoken of green eyes. Had he been telling of a living person? Of his murderer? The thought was startling!
WHY did Ling Soo name Green Eyes? There was something sinister in the title. It brought a chain of wild, fantastic ideas.
Joseph Darley had said nothing of any one called Green Eyes. Was he hearing the name for the first time tonight?
“They are ready,” Ling Soo was saying, in a tone that made Cleve realize the men were just within the doors. “Green Eyes must speak again and name the exact hour. Then you will be ready. The men will come to me.”
“Good,” said Darley.
“But you must have the paper,” came the tones of Ling Soo. “It will be the symbol that they shall accept.”
“It is safe at my apartment.”
The doors began to tremble. Quickly, Cleve slipped toward the hanging curtain. He slid behind it and found himself backed against a depressed door.
For a few moments, nothing happened. Then, the crouched form of Foy appeared from the inner room.
Peering from a corner of the curtain, Cleve saw the evil, stooping Chinaman wend his way toward the outer door that opened into the anteroom.
Ling Soo appeared, walking slowly with Joseph Darley.
Until now, Cleve had never seen the Chinaman standing. On both previous occasions, Ling Soo had remained seated on his throne that betokened his high office in the Wu-Fan. Tonight, he saw Ling Soo as a squat, chunky figure.
The Chinaman was short, but heavy. He was attired in a black robe. Emblazoned on the back was a large golden dragon, the sign of the Wu-Fan. Words were being spoken by Ling Soo and Cleve heard them plainly.
“You are sure that it is safe,” Ling Soo was saying. “It must not be seen.”
“It is buried in a bottom table drawer,” declared Darley, in return. “Nothing of value lies there. No one would know its purpose. Do not worry, Ling Soo.”
“You are going back to your apartment now?”
“No. I shall not return until late.”
“Since no one will be there—” The rest of Ling Soo’s statement was lost. It died away as the men reached the entrance to the anteroom.
A buzz was all that Cleve could hear now. Ling Soo was gesticulating. Darley was shaking his head; then nodding as though in agreement. Cleve ducked as Ling Soo turned and came waddling back toward his inner room. He heard the door of the anteroom close. Then came a cackling laugh — the harsh chuckle that Ling Soo used when he was pleased.
Hiding, Cleve relied only on his ears. He heard talk close by; probably at the dragon doors. The words were uttered in Chinese, by Ling Soo. A short response in the same language came from the lips of Foy. The brass doors clanged shut.
A slight, scarcely audible movement now told that Foy alone was in the hallway. Cleve peered forth to see the Chinese servant headed toward the anteroom. He went through the door. It closed behind him. Cleve was alone.
What should he do now? Intuitively, Cleve waited, and, while he remained, he reflected.
Something important had taken place tonight. Ling Soo had discussed unusual affairs with Joseph Darley.
Whatever the meaning might be, it was certain that the presence of an intruder was something that Ling Soo would doubtless resent. For Cleve to burst in now as Hugo Barnes would be a grave mistake. It would be preferable to reserve a visit with Ling Soo for a later occasion.
Joseph Darley was gone. Foy was in the anteroom. That indicated that the servant had also made his departure.
Foy had been present during the discussion between Ling Soo and Darley. That meant nothing, for Foy could not talk English.
It was imperative that Cleve should learn the facts regarding this unexpected conference between Ling Soo and Joseph Darley,