“My name Fu Moy,” he announced.
“Oh, you’re the coffee boy?” McCarty remembered his conversation with the butler.
“Can do!” Fu Moy bobbed his head delightedly at the recognition.
“And is Ching Lee your father?” McCarty disregarded the dissimilarity in family names.
“Ching Lee on-clee.” He labored over the difficult word with evident anxiety to make himself understood.
“Uncle, is he?” His questioner paused. “You know Hughes?”
The round face clouded.
“Me catchum Mlistler Hughes. Me no like. Mlistler Hughes gone away. Me glad.”
“That,” observed Dennis judiciously, “was straight from the shoulder. I couldn’t have put it better myself if I’d known the spalpeen!”
Fu Moy hung his head shyly but McCarty pulled a shining new quarter from his pocket and held it out.