The leader’s eyes were mild, but quizzical, as they rested upon the American. There seemed to be some purpose in Ling Soo’s study. Americans were rare converts to the Wu-Fan, Cleve fancied. There were none here tonight besides himself. Perhaps they were much desired. From what Moy Chen had said, Ling Soo always required capable traveling delegates.
“It is a pleasure, Mr. Barnes,” said Ling Soo, with a friendly smile. “A pleasure, indeed, to have you with us this evening. I have heard about you from my friends. They say that they have told you the purpose of the Wu-Fan.”
“They have,” replied Cleve, in the voice he used for Hugo Barnes. “I was very interested in what they had to say about your order.”
“They have suggested,” continued Ling Soo, “that you be named a member of the Wu-Fan. Is that your wish?”
“I should consider it an honor,” said Cleve.
“So it shall be,” declared Ling Soo.
HE clapped his hands. There was silence in the room. Foy crept forward, and stood beside his master’s throne. Ling Soo, in the singsong words of the Chinese language, made an announcement to the others. A response of approval came in reply.
At Ling Soo’s command, Foy thrust forward a small box. From it, Ling Soo produced a small blue badge that bore the head of a golden dragon. He tendered it to Cleve.
“My comrade,” he said, in slowly enunciated English, “you are now an associate of the Wu-Fan. Those you see here tonight are men high in our order. All who wear the badge of the Wu-Fan shall be your friends. You have received the first honor; the others will be yours, in the future.”
Foy had gone away while his master was speaking. Now the man returned and held a brass dragon head between Ling Soo and the new member.