“Send Sooey Wan up to me, Julia, please,” he ordered.
“He’s here now, sor.”
“Come in, you yellow idiot,” Dan roared, and the old Chinaman shuffled into the room and stood before him dejectedly, but with eyes that met his master’s glance unflinchingly. “When Miss Larrieau asked you to lend her five hundred dollars, why did you not come up and tell me immediately?” he demanded.
“Sometime, Missa Dan,” Sooey Wan answered humbly, “evlybody klazy. Las’ night I think Sooey Wan klazy, too. After Missa Dan go bed, lady queen knock my door. She say: ‘Sooey Wan, I likee fi’ hund’ed dolla’.’ I think velly funny, so I say ‘Wha’ for?’ and lady queen get velly mad, so Sooey Wan think maybe lady queen wanchee buy plesent Missa Dan, maybe likee make suplise party. Wha’ for Sooey Wan ketchum light for ask question to lady queen? Sooey Wan allee same cook, lady queen allee same lady boss. No can do, Missa Dan.”
“That confounded single-track Oriental mind of yours has broken my heart,” Dan groaned. “Sooey Wan, last night the lady queen offered to give me a quarter of a million dollars, but I would not accept it. It was a trust and I couldn’t take advantage of her generous nature. I dared not risk losing her money. Her father trusted me, and I couldn’t accept money from a woman anyhow. She knows that you offered me money, however, and that I accepted it from you, only she doesn’t know why. She doesn’t understand that you’re a man, Sooey Wan, that you can take a gambler’s chance, that I’ll throw old Casson out of the business and put you in as a silent partner; she doesn’t understand that as a baby I acquired the habit of accepting money from you. You remember how you would give me spending money when my father wouldn’t? You old fool, you’ve spoiled me, but you love me like a son and—well, Sooey Wan, you’re not a Chinaman to me—a servant. You’re my friend—the whitest white man and the truest friend I’ve ever known, God bless you—but oh, I could kill you this morning! You’re such a lovable, loyal old booby, and because of you the girl has gone. She thinks now that I do not want her.”
“Women,” said Sooey Wan, “all klazy.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea where the girl could have gone.”
“I think maybe go back same place lady queen come from,” the crafty Chinaman suggested. “Maybe ketchum steamer today. I think velly good job talkee policeeman, policeeman ketchum velly quick. If lady queen no come back Sooey Wan shootum blains”—and he struck fiercely his bony, yellow temple.
“I have an idea, Sooey Wan. Last Sunday morning we walked along the waterfront together. I had a schooner in from the south and I wanted to talk to the captain. At Pacific Street bulkhead there was a trading schooner, the Pelorus, unloading copra, and Tamea spoke to the Kanaka mate in his own language.”
He reached for the telephone and called up the Meiggs wharf lookout of the Merchants’ Exchange.