“Yet Loy Rook is not wise. He has simply remembered what he has seen. And he has seen much.”
This impersonal manner of talking was a familiar trait of Loy Rook’s. He always adopted it when speaking of himself.
“There is much that is known in China,” declared Loy Rook. “Much that is not known in New York” — he laughed — “but there are people here who think they know much. When there is something to be learned that is known not here, those who are wise come to Loy Rook.”
With this cryptic remark, the old Chinaman busied himself with the papers that Harry had arranged.
Harry went back to his work. He was thoughtful. At last, he was making progress, even though it was not much.
He was here at The Shadow’s bidding. For The Shadow was certain that through Loy Rook the key to Philip Farmington’s murder could be discovered. The poison — li-shun — was known only in Mongolia, of which Loy Rook was a native.
Loy Rook, ostensibly a prosperous merchant, loved money too well not to take part in shady dealings.
So Harry had been posted here, through some mysterious arrangement between The Shadow and Ching Foo, the man who was a friend of Loy Rook’s. Harry’s present job was to keep a watchful eye.
Ching Foo had suavely told him of Loy Rook’s peculiarities. One was that every visitor, no matter what his purpose might be, entered Loy Rook’s office to meet him. The old Mongolian was too canny to overdo his crooked work.
He made every one meet him in what appeared to be an aboveboard transaction. At least, that was supposed to be the case, so Harry had been informed. To date, he had seen nothing to the contrary.