A roll of paper money, tactfully displayed in a Chinese shop, will work wonders. With Cleve — or Hugo, as he preferred to call himself — it had proven a perfect passport.
He had made friends with three Americanized Chinese. From one of them, he had heard of the Wu-Fan. He had mentioned the subject to another. The third had discussed it of his own accord.
Through his expression of admiration for Chinese customs, Hugo Barnes had received an unexpected invitation to be present at the meeting of the order. He had accepted. The place had been named. It was Ling Soo’s.
Cleve paused before the entrance to Ling Soo’s abode, and waited while a Chinaman detached himself from the crowd that lined the curb.
The Celestial entered Ling Soo’s. Cleve gave him time to reach the elevator; then went in alone. He waited for the lift to descend, and rode up to the floor where Ling Soo lived.
He drew the cord at the anteroom door. This was in accordance with instructions. Foy appeared and glared suspiciously. Cleve lost no time in declaring his false identity.
“My name is Hugo Barnes,” he said. “You savvy? Go tellee boss that Melican man is here.”
The words had their effect upon Foy. The stoop-shouldered man evidently recognized the name of Hugo Barnes. He hesitated no longer. He opened the door and allowed Cleve to enter.
There were more than two dozen persons in Ling Soo’s reception room. Cleve stood uncertainly for a moment; then one of his Chinese friends came forward and drew him toward the large chair where Ling Soo sat in state.
Awkwardly following his companion’s gesture, Cleve touched his forehead with his forefinger and received Ling Soo’s salute.