Three saturnine Chinese in black overcoats and pearl grey hats were seated in a corner, calmly hammering a drum, a brass gong and a wooden duck. In the center of the room, an athletic young Chinese in jeans and leather jacket wielded a bamboo staff in the fantastic attitudes of the medieval Chinese warrior. Three small boys with broomsticks were following his instructions.
At the far end of the room was the giant head of a Chinese dragon to which a long accordion-pleated tail was attached. A young man in a sweat suit was doing calisthenics before the head. Then he got inside and the head came to life, jerking and swaying to the deafening percussion. The head spoke. Two boys ducked under the tail, and the entire dragon began moving across the floor.
Gabby had a small pad and pencil out of her purse and was sketching quickly, moistening her finger to smear the lines into broad patches of shadow. The Shroff opened a closet and took out two bamboo staves, two quilted masks and two quilted cotton aprons. He offered a brass-bound staff to Lennox.
"Yes?" he beamed.
"No thanks, Mr. Fu. I don't feel like a fox tonight. You're sure there was nobody named Knott here last Saturday?"
"Oh yes." The Shroff examined Jake's face for a moment. "Ve'y impohtant to find thissa Knott, eh?"
"Very. Where did I go from here, Mr. Fu? Do you know?"
"Oh yes. You ve'y intox'ated. I took you. I take you now."
The Shroff returned the fencing equipment to the closet, waited politely for Gabby to finish her sketching, and then conducted them downstairs. He led them to Chatham Square where three cabs were parked behind a hack sign.
"I take you to taxi," he beamed. "You ve'y intox'ated."