Cleve felt a nudge beside him. It was from the man who had guided him here.
“The sign,” came the Chinaman’s whisper, in oddly spoken tones. “The sign of Wu-Fan.”
Cleve understood. Deliberately he arose and stood in the center of the group. He felt no fear, whatever. With this formality passed, he believed he would gain the recognition he desired.
He raised his right hand and placed the forefinger to his forehead.
Although he did not realize the fact, Cleve’s finger rested exactly upon that reddish spot — the mark of death. That spot had shown clearly in this shimmering light.
It was hidden now, by the finger that had made it. Cleve, who had made the mark unwittingly, was now indicating it, himself!
It was toward Green Eyes that Cleve was facing; and the glowing rays that sparkled in the light had gained his whole attention.
He did not realize what was happening behind him. His right hand, absent from his pocket, no longer controlled his hidden gun.
The attack came on the instant. The two men nearest Cleve bounded forward. Each seized an arm.
Struggling madly, Cleve was borne backward. Other members of the insidious crew were thronging forward. Their massed attack was overpowering. Cleve’s arms and legs were held as he lay prone upon the floor.