They regarded him as an intruder.
Yet they were not malicious in their actions.
Not one of the crowd seemed to be able to talk English. It began to impress Cleve as ridiculous. They were trying to urge him toward the door.
As the explanation dawned on Cleve, he smiled and let his revolver glide from his hand.
These men must be lesser members of the Wu-Fan. Here they were holding a special meeting, awaiting the arrival of more important members. So Cleve believed, and his assumption was a logical one.
None of the men from Ling Soo’s had appeared. These Chinese did not identify the strange American with their organization. That was all.
Cleve thought of the emblem beneath his coat. He had put it there, because it was to be worn concealed in this place — so his informant had said.
Right now, Cleve decided, that emblem would settle matters much more effectively than his government badge!
Quietly and impressively, Cleve drew back his coat and showed the sign of the Wu-Fan. He stepped back as he did so, in order that all might see.
THE result was entirely opposite from what Cleve had anticipated. Before he could move another step away, a knife gleamed as the nearest Chinaman leaped toward him. A wild, angry shout arose, and with it came the cry, “Wu-Fan!”