“I would rather,” said Pu Yee, “that it was your own life, King san, for which you bargained.”
“I do not bargain for that which is my own,” King told him coldly. “If I die, then I do not deserve to live.”
Pu Yee regarded him thoughtfully. “You are a very brave man, King san. You are the very model of what our sacred Kung-Fu-Tze would have called a superior man. I will be grieved when you are dead. Believe me, I shall be very sad.”
King shifted impatiently. “What is your answer to my proposition? I offer you the Manchu skull for the lives of Roxanna Moore and her brother.”
“The girl must also give us the Sung Dynasty rubies. That is part of the price for her life. She has brought much grief to the Sung Tong, and she must pay a high price. It is true that we compelled her to smuggle the Manchu skull. But she took advantage of that to bring the rubies through the customs, hidden in the skull. Those rubies were stolen from an honorable mandarin family who are Sung Tong brothers. She must return them or pay for them.”
“Roxanna Moore hasn't got the rubies,” King said levelly. “She didn't know they were in the skull. It was On Long Sin who did that, on his own hook. He must have had a confederate in Shanghai, who put the rubies in the skull. When Roxanna brought the skull to On Long Sin, someone else put out the lights, killed On Long Sin and took the rubies. The murderer dropped one of them out in the alley, so that suspicion would fall on Roxanna. She—”
He was interrupted by a voice from the doorway.
“He speaks the truth, Venerable Leader!”
King turned, and saw the fat Fung Tze standing in the doorway.
Fung Tze was sweating just a little as he came into the room. He had a leather-covered book in his hand. The edges of the pages were gilt.
“When we moved the furniture from the room where On Long Sin was killed, I found his diary in the desk.”
He opened the book, revealing thick Chinese heiroglyphics covering the pages.
“On Long Sin writes here that the girl knew nothing of the rubies. He says that he did not plan to smuggle them in the skull, but that he received word from Shanghai that they would be in the receptacle. I read no further, but came here quickly—”
Pu Yee snatched the book from him. “It is impossible. No one else could have killed On Long Sin but the girl. Unless—” His eyes rested on Fung Tze, but he did not finish the sentence.
Fung Tze drew himself up proudly. “I have always served the Sung Tong loyally!”
Pu Yee read hastily in the book. His face showed nothing. In a moment he looked up, and sighed.
“I am sorry, King san, but this changes nothing. We must be paid for those rubies—or the girl and her brother will die.”
“In that case,” said King, “there's no use wasting time!”
He slashed down with his cane at the nearest hatchet man, crashing the ferrule against the fellow's skull. Then he leaped forward before the others could bring their knives into play, and seized old Pu Yee by the arm. He yanked the old man from the chair, twisted his arm behind him, then swiveled around, facing Fung Tze and the hatchet men. Pu Yee's body was now a shield for King against thrown knives.
King did not exert pressure against Pu Yee's arm. He merely held him motionless. With his left hand, he flipped the cane so that the scabbard fell away, leaving the blade naked and ready. He placed the point of the rapier against Pu Yee's side.
“Now we can bargain again,” he said calmly.
“Your life, Pu Yee, for the life of Daniel Moore. Order him released at once.”
The hatchet men were crouching, with knives gripped by the blades, ready to throw if they got a chance. Fung Tze's hand stole into his pocket and came out with a gun. But he did not raise it, for it would have been impossible to hit King without striking Pu Yee.
PU YEE stood calmly with King's blade at his side. “It seems,” he said sadly, “that superior force must have its way. The young man shall be released—”
His quiet tone was so deceptive that King was almost lulled into a false sense of security. He was almost unprepared for the swift and deadly jujitsu trick which the old man attempted.
Pu Yee twisted like a contortionist, throwing the weight of his body away from the arm lock, at the same time bringing his free hand around in a savage blow aimed at the side of King's neck.
That blow, with the edge of the hand, has been known to kill a man. King had seen it done. One who was not familiar with that trick might not have understood the danger. But King knew.
He bent his head down, burying his neck, so that the edge of Pu Yee's stiff hand struck the top of his head instead. He dared not let go of Pu Yee, for that would mean an avalanche of knives from the hatchet men. So he kept his grip on the old man's arm, and dropped to the floor, dragging Pu Yee with him. He wound his arm around Pu Yee's waist and lifted him over his shoulder, keeping the bulk of his body between himself and the knife men.
Pu Yee squirmed and clawed, struggling madly. King saw the knife men spreading out in a circle to come at him from all sides. He held the clawing, scratching old man on his shoulder, and began to back swiftly toward the door behind the chair. He did not know where it would lead, but he had no choice.
“Kill him!” screamed Pu Yee. “Do not let him escape—”
And then something happened—something which brought a sudden hush as of death upon the room.
A cascade of lustrous, pigeon-blood rubies began to pour down upon the thick-napped Afghanistan rug.
They were falling from somewhere beneath the ceremonial robe of Pu Yee!
The tong knife men stopped still in their stride. Fung Tze uttered a low gasp. The eyes of all the yellow men became suddenly veiled and ominous.
King breathed a little sigh. Slowly, he allowed the suddenly quiet Pu Yee to slide down from his shoulder. Then he went across the room, past the frozen tong men, and picked up the scabbard from the floor. No one stopped him. No one looked at him. All eyes were focused in silent and dreadful condemnation upon the Venerable Leader of the Sung Tong.
It was Fung Tze who spoke first.
“King san, the Sung Tong owes you apology and reparation. We never thought that our own Venerable Leader had the rubies which we demanded of you. We never thought—that Pu Yee would be a traitor to the tong!”
King sheathed his sword. He smiled grimly. He looked at old Pu Yee, who stood silent and motionless, with the resigned, fatalistic look of the Orient upon his parchmentlike face.
“It was Pu Yee,” said King, “who engineered the smuggling of the rubies in the Manchu skull. It was he who entered the office and killed On Long Sin. When he left the restaurant, he saw me coming up Pell Street and attempted to turn me back, knowing that I would complicate things.”
Pu Yee bowed his head. “It is all true. I saw a vision of wealth and power. With the Sung Dynasty rubies, I could have gone to another land and set myself up as a prosperous mandarin. I could have lived a life of ease.”
Fung Tze motioned to two of the hatchet men. They stepped forward and ranged themselves on either side of Pu Yee. The old man raised his head.
“I am ready!”
Slowly, with the two executioners at his side, he marched out of the room.
“What are you going to do with him?” King asked Fung Tze.