CHAPTER XIV

THE SUBTLETY OF LING SOO

WHEN Ling Soo planned, he employed an uncanny craftiness that showed a mingling of Oriental wisdom and Occidental efficiency. Behind those bespectacled eyes of his lay a brain that prepared schemes far more practical than the fantastic visions of a future Chinese Empire.

Ling Soo seldom disclosed the workings of his mind. When he did indulge in reminiscent talk, he used the Chinese language, and the man to whom he expressed his views was Foy — the sinister servant whom Ling mildly dubbed The Slayer.

Ling Soo could be stern with Foy. He dominated the man, and thereby assured himself of Foy’s lasting loyalty.

When Foy incurred Ling Soo’s displeasure, the master spoke harshly. But between these occasional outbursts, Ling Soo usually chose to treat his servant as a confidant — although even then, he was careful not to say too much.

Back in Ling Soo’s abode, the squat Chinaman was seated on his picturesque throne. He had adopted his favorite pose — that of leader of the Wu-Fan. Foy, hovering near, awaited his master’s bidding. No orders came. Instead, Ling Soo began to express his inner thoughts.

“Last night, Foy,” he said, in his native tongue, “you failed. Tonight you shall see that Ling Soo never fails. You will learn, tonight, Foy. You will learn much that you should know.”