“Pong Lee said there is a big secret connected with those rings,” Joe resumed.
“That’s right. He did.”
“Then—there’s a chance that they are worth more than their actual gold value. Get my point?”
Bob’s face lightened.
“Golly, Joe. You may be right. But what could the secret be?”
“That’s the mystery of it all. Maybe,” Joe continued, struck with a sudden thought, “there’s a piece of paper or something concealed in the rings. I’m going to find out. It’s light here under this street lamp.”
“Don’t, you sap!” cried Bob, whirling his friend around. “Why, there might be a dozen Chinks spying on us. It would about be our finish if you’d go to examining that ring here at this late hour.”
Joe laughed sheepishly.
“I must be crazy,” he smiled. “Funny, but I never thought of that. We’ll wait till we get back to the hotel.”
Although it was late, the friends walked idly along Grant Avenue, desiring to see everything that had previously escaped their eyes. They wanted to “go off the beaten path,” as Joe expressed it, to see a part of Chinatown that was not spoiled by the Occidental. But as it was late they knew this could not be done.