Chick was sitting up on the floor by this time, and as he felt his head without finding any cut or bruise, he knew that he had been sandbagged—for the second time within a few hours.
“That’s what I was hit with,” he decided judicially. “It is the favorite tool of the Yellow Tong. We knew that before, because two or three people have been laid out that way when some of the tong men were supposed to have done it. Even that poor Brand Jamieson, who got the crossed needles, too, was slammed with a sandbag first of all.”
Chick’s head cleared in the course of a few minutes, and he was able to review the situation in some sort of orderly fashion.
“After all,” he reflected, “it isn’t so bad. The chief wanted to find that fellow with the scarred ear and burned finger. Now I know where he hails from, because Patsy gave us a tip. Patsy knew the name over that laundry was Sun Jin, and that’s what I heard the Jap call the chink I had on the floor. It all fits together like an easy jigsaw puzzle.”
The blow on his head had made Chick feel a little sick, but he was able to get to his feet. When he had opened the study door, the fresher air of the hallways revived him.
He looked at his watch and found that it was five o’clock. There was no sign or sound of activity in the[Pg 29] house. He made his way down the stairs and out to the avenue, without seeing anybody.
“That butler, Ruggins, was just about all in, I reckon,” he thought. “He didn’t care who was in the house, or what was going on, so long as he was not bothered. Well, I guess I’ll get home, report to the chief, and then turn in myself. I know he won’t let me do anything more till I’ve had some sleep. I hope he won’t call me down too hard for what I’ve done. I’ve found out something, anyhow.”
Chick intended to take a Madison Avenue car, as the easiest way to get downtown. So he turned off the avenue to a cross street, to wait for a car at the corner.
But he didn’t have to take a car. To his intense satisfaction a taxi came crawling up behind him, at the leisurely pace which suggested that it had no fare inside. This was confirmed by a husky voice singing out, “Taxi?”
It was the chauffeur of the taxicab. He pulled the machine over to the curb, as he waved one hand to his possible patron, while the other controlled the steering wheel.