“Didn’t he tell you a thing?” asked Ruth.
“Practically not a thing, my dear girl. He seemed to think he was about to be executed, or, at any rate, jailed. About all the interpreter reported that Hop Wong said was: ‘No can tell,’ and he asserted this over and over again until I wearied of it. No, I think as far as Hop Wong is concerned, there is no mystery.”
“I’m not so sure of that, Mr. Howbridge,” said Luke. “Those Chinese are queer fellows. Once they get frightened they lose their tongues.”
“Yes, but I did my best to assure Hop Wong that he had nothing to fear,” said the lawyer. “I declare, it’s beyond me.”
“But what of the two men—the tramps who struck Luke down?” asked Ruth.
“That may be a different matter altogether,” her guardian admitted. “There, I am willing to confess, may lie some danger and there may be a mystery at the bottom of it. But that it has to do with a fortune—or even a sum of money—I am not so willing to admit.”
“What had we better do?” Ruth inquired. “Shall we tell the police?”
“I say no!” cried Luke, with perhaps more energy than he intended. “I beg your pardon for my excitement,” he went on. “But I think we can solve this ourselves, Mr. Howbridge. At least, we or some of us would like to try it a bit longer. If we call in the police we shall have to report to them every little trifling thing that happens, and they’ll be running to the Corner House at all hours of the day and night.”
“Yes, there is that probability,” admitted Mr. Howbridge. “But have you any plan, Luke?”
“Not yet, no, sir. I’d like to think it over a bit longer.”