“When was this?” McCarty was careful to keep his tone indifferent.
“Yes—yes—!”
“Yesterday?”
Fu Moy’s bullet head bobbed.
“Honorable Lord come takee knifee away from Ching Lee, say no can do, p’leecee man would come. He say Mlistler Hughes hurtee Fu Moy he go! Mlistler Hughes gone. Honorable Lord one piecee gleat man.” He looked down at the coin and then up with a sudden thought. “Lichee nuts no can do! Slipples can do! Slipples ’long Honorable Lord!”
He had gestured toward his feet and Dennis turned puzzled eyes on his companion.
“Does the youngster mean that he wants to buy a pair of slippers for Orbit?” Fu Moy’s expression was sufficient answer, and Dennis suggested: “Sure, he must have plenty of slippers, lad?”
Fu Moy’s head shook decisively.
“Allee blurn. Bang-bang flier Honorable Lord’s loom. Littlee flier, gleat big bang-bang! Slipples ’longside chair, all same blurn.”
“I’ve got him!” McCarty spoke aside in a hurried undertone; to the little boy whose dark, bright, slant eyes were fixed upon him as though for approval, he added: “Sure, son! Get your honorable lord a pair of slippers, and if you can find any for a quarter let me know where. Now you run and tell him that two of the men who were here last night would like to speak to him. Think you can make him know what you mean?”