CHAPTER XXXVI
THE GEMS’ DELIVERY
A MAN strolled up the street in front of Wang Foo’s tea shop. Something bulged beneath his coat. He glanced cautiously right and left before he entered the building. The street was deserted; it usually was at eleven thirty, especially on a Saturday night, when most persons were occupied elsewhere.
Loo Choy stared without interest when he saw the big man enter. He had seen the man before; why should he be interested? Life was tiresome here at Wang Foo’s; in fact, Loo Choy had been moping for two days because his cousin, Ling Chow, had gone back to the place called Yonkers.
The big man stopped at the counter and looked at Loo Choy. From beneath his coat he drew a box and set it in front of the Chinaman. Then he beckoned with his finger. Loo Choy advanced to see what was wanted.
The red-faced man extended his hands and clutched Loo Choy by the neck. With a powerful movement he swept the little Chinaman upon the counter. A piece of rope lay handy.
In less than two minutes the guardian of Wang Foo’s tea shop lay helpless, with a gag in his mouth.
The big man lifted him with ease and deposited him in a convenient resting place, out of sight behind a stack of tea boxes. He walked calmly through the shop and found the door at the back.
He stepped back in the corner, and extended his long arm, rapped four times upon the door.
The panel opened. A face appeared - the face of one of the giant Mongols who guarded the stairway to Wang Foo’s sanctum. The Chinaman peered through the door. Seeing nothing, he thrust his head through the opening. A firm hand slapped against the top of his head and pressed his throat against the bottom of the open panel. The Chinaman emitted a choking gasp.
The big man released him. The guard slumped inside the door. Then a hand reached in and found the latch. The door was opened and the visitor stepped in.
He walked boldly up the stairs and strode into the room of Wang Foo. The old Chinaman looked up from the desk.
“Ah,” he exclaimed, in his evenly spoken English. “My friend. My friend, Johnny.”
“None other.”
“I note a box beneath your arm. Do I understand that you have brought me -“
“You’re exactly right, Wang Foo. Take a look.”
The arrival laid the box on the table and lifted the lid. The glittering array of jewels would have brought a cry of amazement from the most lethargic person; but not even an expression of interest appeared on the face of the Chinaman.
“Spread ‘em out,” said the visitor, removing some of the jewels and placing them on the desk. “What do you think of them, Wang Foo?”
“Excellent,” replied the Chinaman, in expressionless tones. “They are very good. They are worth the price that I have agreed to pay for them.”
“Thought you’d like ‘em. The old boy got hold of them quicker than he expected. I got a note from him the same night I was here - after I’d gone home. So we got together in a hurry; and here they are.”
“I trust your meeting was held in a wisely chosen spot,” said Wang Foo with a faint smile.
“Don’t kid me, Wang Foo. You know the old boy well enough to bank on that. Besides, I bet you know all about it. Where we got together, I mean.”
Wang Foo did not reply. He was examining some of the precious stones.
“Well, I pulled the trick,” said the big man. “English Johnny came through with the goods. Say, Wang Foo, where are your big chinks tonight? You oughta have them around with all those sparklers on your hands.”
He strode to the curtained wall as he spoke and brushed the covering aside.
“One of my men was downstairs,” remarked Wang Foo. “Did you not see him?”
“Sure, I saw that fellow. He knew me and let me come up. But you ought to have your other blokes with you.”
“I do not need them.”
“Why not?”
In reply Wang Foo pushed a button on his desk. A portion of the wall revolved on a pivot, five feet to the Chinaman’s right.
“That leads up into the house,” he said with his thin smile. “Before any one could enter this room, I would be gone.”
The big white man marched across the room and glanced through the curtained doorway. Then he turned as though making an entrance, and looked at Wang Foo.
“You’re right,” he said. “Nobody would have a chance to get you. You could hop out all right. But what about the jewels? You couldn’t take them with you.”
“Step forward, Johnny. Come this way.”
The red-faced man obeyed.
“Now look behind you,” said Wang Foo.
The big man saw the Celestial reach to the side of the desk and press another button. He turned quickly. The floor had opened downward at the very spot where he had stood. A double trap was ready for intruders.
The hole closed, just as mysteriously as had the panel in the wall. The big man walked back and tested the spot with his foot. With the trap shut, he could not detect an opening in the surface of the rug. He stood beside the doorway for an instant. Then he walked over to the desk.
“Say, Wang Foo,” he said as he took his position at the right of the old Chinaman. “I’ve found out something. A very strange thing, too. Something useful to our game.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve found out what happened to a certain man who used to be a shrewd worker. Did you ever hear of Diamond Bert Farwell?”
The eyes of English Johnny stared into those of Wang Foo. The Chinaman’s gaze was steady as he stared unblinking through his thick spectacles.
“Diamond Bert Farwell is dead,” he asserted.
“His brother is dead,” came the response. “His brother - the man they thought was Bert. But Diamond Bert is still alive, and I know where he is.”
“Where?”
“Here! Before me!”
With one quick motion, the big man reached toward and plucked the spectacles from Wang Foo’s face. Before the astonished Chinaman could move, his wig had been snatched from his head. He sat there, a blinking, baldheaded American whose face was dyed with yellow stain.
The sound of stealthy footsteps on the stairs had been drowned by the voice of English Johnny as it had poured its message into the ears of the erstwhile Wang Foo. The man behind the desk leaped to his feet, as he saw the curtain of the doorway swing aside.
Detective Joe Cardona entered the room, a revolver gleaming in his hand. Wang Foo’s hand slipped quickly to the button on the right side of the desk There it was trapped by the knee of the big man beside him. The pretended English Johnny was holding both hands in the air.
“Up with your hands,” cried the detective.
The big man’s knee pushed Wang Foo’s hand back from the button. The false Chinaman was trapped. It was too late for him to operate the turning panel. He glowered at the man who had betrayed him, and raised his hands in the air.
Three other detectives were with Cardona. They covered the two men at the desk with their automatics.
“Diamond Bert!” exclaimed the Italian as he approached the corner of the room. “Diamond Bert - fixed up like a chink! Old Wang Foo is Diamond Bert! And with the Laidlow jewels, too!”
He looked at the other man.
“English Johnny, the lunch-wagon king! So you’re in the racket, too. You bring the stuff; Bert peddles it. Well, we’ve got you, boys. This will be great news for Inspector John Malone.”
Handcuffs clicked on the wrists of both men. Cardona made a quick search for guns. He pulled one from the big man’s pocket.
“Got a rod on you, too, eh? That’ll go against you, Johnny.”
The detectives surrounded the prisoners, who stood in silence.
“Move along.”
Cardona nudged Diamond Bert. In response to the detective’s order, the former Wang Foo walked sullenly past the left side of the desk, toward the waiting detectives.
“You, too, Johnny.”
Cardona’s growl came as he surveyed the second prisoner who was following around the desk and was directly in back of it. A sharp exclamation came from the detective as he saw English Johnny stoop.