“I don’t think it was a pin. The Japanese know where to touch you so that it will hurt.”
“An’ I didn’t even like to rub the fellow’s ears for fear of hurtin’ him. I heard of a man that was made deaf that way. Smashed his ear-drums.”
“I wonder where the Jap will get off?” said Orme.
“Oh, he’ll go right through to the barns and take a Clark Street car. There’s a lot of them Japs lives over that way. He’ll be one of ’em, I guess.”
“Unless he’s somebody’s cook or valet.”
“I don’t believe he is. But, of course, you never know.”
“That’s true,” said Orme. “One never knows.”
As the car plunged onward, Maku suddenly put his hand in his pocket. He drew it out empty. On his face was an expression which may mean “surprise,” among the Japanese. He then fumbled in his other pockets, but apparently he did not find what he was looking for. Orme wondered what it might be.
The search continued. A piece of twine, a pocket-knife, a handkerchief, were produced in turn and inspected. At last he brought out a greenback, glancing at it twice before returning it to his pocket. Orme knew that it must be the marked bill. But Maku was looking for something else. His cheek glistened with perspiration; evidently he had lost something of value. After a time, however, he stopped hunting his pockets, and seemed to resign himself to his loss—a fact from which Orme gathered that the object of his search was nothing so valuable that it could not be replaced.
When he had been quiet for a time, he again produced the greenback, and examined it attentively. From the way he held it, Orme judged that he was looking at the well-remembered legend: “Remember Person You Pay This To.” Presently he turned it over and held it closer to his eyes. He was, of course, looking at the abbreviated directions.