He had learned that a call had come from the Civilian Committee two days before. Hence, Cleve had called Darley at his home, only to learn that he was out of town.
What had Darley wanted? Did he have new information on the Wu-Fan and its activities?
Cleve smiled in the style of Hugo Barnes. Right now, a stranger in San Francisco, he was in a better position to learn facts pertaining to the Wu-Fan than was Darley.
LING SOO’s firm tones came to Cleve and interrupted his thoughts. The leader was speaking forcefully to one of his subordinates. The man was bowing in apology. Cleve could see the fiery flash in Ling Soo’s eyes.
There was silence as Ling Soo’s voice raised, and he addressed the assembled group. Cleve could not understand the flow of Chinese words. His blank look attracted the attention of a sour-faced Chinaman who happened to be standing beside him.
“You hearee?” asked the Chinaman, in a low voice. “You no savvy? Me tellee you. He say he has go to the Sun Kew. He showee this” — the speaker thumbed his dragon-headed badge — “and tonight he sayee he not go.
“Ling Soo velee angry, him not go. He sayee he send someone else, mlaybee. Tonight blig talkee down at Sun Kew. Velee important one go. Mlaybee more go. They keepee dlagon here. They showee him!”
The man’s action was explanatory. He pointed again to his emblem; then indicated beneath his coat. Cleve understood.
Something was happening at the Sun Kew. The badge of the Wu-Fan would serve as a mark of identity.
Ling Soo’s anger had subsided. One by one, the members were approaching him, and each listened for a few moments; then received a sign of dismissal. Soon all but Cleve had departed. He approached the Chinaman’s throne.