To Cleve, after his recent adventures, the luxurious hotel seemed a strange contrast to Chinatown.
Within walking distance of this fine hostelry, where wealthy guests appeared in evening dress, lay the region cut by bizarre streets, where the intrigue of the Orient lay deep. It seemed incredible that these two contrasting districts did not overlap.
Chinatown, true enough, had adopted the mechanical inventions of America. Had social San Francisco, in turn, succumbed at all to the intrigue of the Chinese quarter?
As Cleve’s thoughts dwelt on Chinatown, Joseph Darley’s conversation turned to that very subject. Leaning across the table, he spoke in a low voice.
“I had almost forgotten it,” he said. “I had information for you — that time I phoned to your hotel. Something that I had learned shortly after I gave you my report on the Wu-Fan.”
“Which was—”
“That the Wu-Fan has encountered the open enmity of the Tiger Tong — an organization that has caused a great deal of trouble in the past. It is rumored that the Tiger Tong has been active against members of the Wu-Fan.”
Darley’s statement was intensely interesting. It explained something that Cleve had found perplexing. He realized now why the displaying of the Wu-Fan emblem at the Sun Kew had brought on the sudden attack.
But the Bureau of Investigation agent carefully refrained from giving indication of his extreme interest. He had his own plans to follow.
THERE were matters which Darley should know and matters which he need not know. Facts about Moy Chen belonged in the latter class. So far as any one except Moy Chen was concerned, the connection between Cleve Branch and Hugo Barnes must remain unknown.