In 1937 he became tired of the constant battle for survival in both worlds and signed aboard a freighter bound for San Francisco. Moments after the ship docked, he slipped ashore, changed his name to Tom Lee and disappeared in Chinatown. He had no trouble finding work. His knowledge of English and his various talents — some questionable — opened many doors. He soon found himself getting rich in the herb business. A brush with the law in 1939 sent him to New York City where he changed his name to Lee Chau and started an import business in exotic herbs and oils.
Oddly enough, while in San Francisco, he had lived two blocks away from Madame Chen’s shop. In fact, he had often passed her as she stood in the shop doorway having her morning tea and cigarette. Neither was aware that the other was in San Francisco. Tom Lee was a well dressed, distinguished looking gentleman, a far cry from the uncuth, shabbily attired Sing Li and of course, Madame Chen was a beautiful mature woman. It is quite possible that they, on occasion, had murmured good morning to each other in soft Cantonese as he passed her shop.
The years went by and in 1956, Madame Chen, still obsessed by the notion that Sing Li might possibly be within reach of her revenge, hired a private detective named Sam Riley to try to find Li. An ex-cop of forty-five, Riley was a good private eye but he had some misgivings about taking a job to find a bandit named Li in Northern China. However, he plunged into the task and with the help of friends in Hong Kong and Singapore — and considerable luck — managed to trace Sing Li to the freighter that brought him to San Francisco. From that point on, the trail evaporated.
Madame Chen was delighted with the information. “Mr. Riley, you are a fine detective,” she said, giving him a magnificent check. Her face dropped. “But, now what? He may have changed his name.”
“Probably has — several times. I dunno, Mrs. Chen. I had a lot of luck so far.” He paused. “You know — that green elephant thing. He’d probably like to get it back.”
“Yes,” Madame Chen said thoughtfully. She nodded her head slowly. “Mr. Riley, to borrow an American expression — I will carry the ball from now on.”
“Gotcha,” grinned Riley. “Thanks for the job and the check. You’re a nice lady — and good looking too.”
“Thank you.” She smiled.
The next month, Madame Chen gave her first gem show which she advertised in all the local newspapers. The turnout was small the first month but as the months wore on, each monthly show brought out more prospective customers. Her oldest son, Y, was now a lawyer in Los Angeles while the younger Fong had stayed to help his mother run the business. He was a handsome, softspoken man with an artistic bent so the shows became better and better.
As always, amid the display of gems and artifacts, stood the glass case containing the green elephant with the sign — NOT FOR SALE.
Years rolled by rapidly but Lee Chau never visited the shop. If he had even heard of Madame Chen, he ignored the name. He was much too busy making money and putting competitors out of business by fair means or foul. He married, had a family and became rich.
Many rich gentlemen came to Madame Chen’s shows and admired the green elephant. A few wanted to buy it — at her price. But she would always smile and shake her head. She was certain that none of them bore any resemblence to the bandit from Northern China.
In 1981, Lee Chau, alias Tom Lee, Nee Sing Li was eighty-one years old and decided to retire although he was in fairly good health despite his girth and poor eyesight. His mind was as sharp as ever and he began to spend some of his money collecting gems and artifacts. This decision was prompted somewhat by the memory of the green elephant. Even now, when he thought about the gem and how the little pig of a girl had stolen it, he was almost consumed with anger. Why had he been such a fool to fall asleep that night! The memory of Mai Ling’s mother and his conquest of her had faded into obscurity as had all his female conquests but the green elephant literally leered at him from the depths of his mind.
It was then that a business acquaintence told him about a little old lady who sold gems in San Francisco.
“And Friend Chau,” the man said. “I have heard that she has a priceless gem of great beauty which is not for sale.”
Lee’s interest was aroused immediately. He had purchased many articles that “were not for sale”. He had always found a way to get what he wanted.
“Thank you for the information,” he said. “I shall visit San Francisco and this — Madame Chen.”
On the following Monday, Lee Chau boarded a jet for San Francisco. He arrived that evening and picked up his reservation at the Mark Hopkins Hotel, reflecting that when he had left the Singapore freighter so many years ago, his first job had been kitchen boy at the Mark Hopkins.
After supper, he took a cab to Grant Avenue and located Madame Chen’s shop. Yes — he used to walk by the shop almost every day when he last lived in San Francisco. He remembered. There was this attractive woman — could that have been Madame Chen? No matter — at his age, women were out of the question.
There were lights on inside the shop and the door was still open so he stepped inside and looked around at the dazzling display of gems and artifacts.
A soft voice drew his attention. The speaker was Madame Chen and the words were in English. “We are about to close, Sir.” At seventy, she was a trim, still attractive woman with gray hair and sparkling eyes. There were very few lines on her face.
The two had come face to face again after a span of sixty-one years but neither was aware of the other’s identity. Lee Chau was no longer young and lean but old, rotund and somewhat bent over from age while Madame Chen bore no resemblence to the ten year old Mai Ling.
Lee bowed slightly. “You have a magnificent display of gems,” he said in rumbling Cantonese. “I — am a collector of fine gems and artifacts.”
She smiled and answered in her lilting native tongue. “I plan to have a gem show tomorrow. Perhaps you will honor me with your presence. I am Madame Chen.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame Chen,” Lee said, continuing in Cantonese. “I am Lee Chau from New York and your show is the reason for my visit to your beautiful city.”
“I will look forward to seeing you,” she said. “You have the accent of Northern China.”
He nodded. There was no point in dwelling on the youthful Sing Li so he quickly reverted to English. “I was raised in Singapore and my parents insisted that I learn the mother tongue as well at the King’s English.”
“I see.” She smiled faintly. “Yes — there is some British in your excellent English. Amazing — a Chinese gentleman who talks like a member of the British Foreign Office.”
Lee laughed. A fascinating woman, this Madame Chen. “I must return to my hotel now.” He had decided not to mention the green gem at this point. He must look at it first. “Good evening, Madame Chen.”
He bowed and left.
Madame Chen turned to her son, Fong who had been standing behind the counter and spoke in crisp English. “Mr. Chau speaks Chinese like a native. He didn’t learn that in Singapore.”
“Just as you say,” smiled Fong.
She went into her office and lighted a cigarette.
The next day at one o’clock, Lee Chau walked down to Grant Avenue. After a quick lunch in a small cafe, he went to Madame Chen’s shop. The aisles were crowded with shoppers looking at the displays and bargaining with the two clerks. He was about to light a cigarette when he saw the green elephant.
It was in a satin lined box which was in a glass case under a diamond studded Buddha — just as he remembered it. He dropped the unlighted cigarette on the floor and broke out in a cold sweat. Light from overhead had turned the elephant into an array of colors all riding on top of the green. It was his green elephant! Where had this old woman gotten it?