“We await the action of Ling Soo,” asserted the man called Green Eyes. “When he is ready, I shall know. My call shall tell that the time has come. It shall be the last. After it, our work must be done.”
“Green Eyes has spoken,” came a low response.
There was a motion in the subterranean room as the members of the insidious group began to retire, one by one. Those who remained, spoke to each other in low voices.
Ling Soo, with Foy standing at his side, became engaged in conversation with a man in the corner. Their discourse was in the Chinese language:
They formed an odd trio.
Ling Soo, squat, heavy, and owl-eyed; Foy, stooped, silent, and leering; the third man, aged but well-featured. He was listening intently, this stranger, and his face could be seen by both Ling Soo and Foy. The man was Foo Chow, the Chinese actor appearing at the Mukden Theater.
“Our brother from China shall see.” This was the import of Ling Soo’s words. “He shall see the hand of Foy. When that hand strikes, its work is quick and sure. When Foy has failed — as you have heard Green Eyes say — it is only because he has not found the opportunity to strike.”
“Foy deals death to traitors?”
“Yes,” declared Ling Soo. “There was one who died not long ago, but by another hand. It was Green Eyes, himself, who dealt death then. It is seldom that Green Eyes strikes. His hand is firm, but not so certain as the hand of Foy. For Foy is The Slayer.”
The pride in Ling Soo’s voice indicated that Foy was his protege. Foo Chow nodded solemnly.