“After him!” cried Luke.
The three young men dashed from the house, scattering to search for the Chinaman. But he was not to be found anywhere around the house nor in the adjacent garden.
“Well, if he isn’t the limit!” exclaimed Luke, in exasperation. “What do you suppose his game is?”
“Give it up,” remarked Neale. “Maybe he’s hiding in the bushes under the window. We didn’t look there.”
An investigation of the shrubbery, however, failed to disclose any Chinese. But they did see, on the window sill, another note. It was written like the first, on laundry paper.
“Hang the fellow!” chuckled Luke. “He’s as bad at writing notes as Wilkins Micawber. Let’s see what this one says.”
They carried it into the house. There they read this:
“Hop Wong met Korner House gals midlight
under boy-pain tree in glarden.”
“Whew!” whistled Neale. “More of the same mystery! Wants the girls to meet him at midnight, does he? Not much!”