With oars flashing in the moonlight, with their crew chanting a weird song, they went sweeping back to Jeanne’s “Big Night.”
All their friends, the movie company, Tom Tobin and even Erik Nord were waiting.
“I have it,” Florence whispered to Erik. “The three-bladed knife.” She slipped it into his hand.
“Wonderful!” He gripped her hand. “But the bell? The banners?”
“There’s something strange about them.”
“Tell me what happened.”
She told him briefly as they hurried along with the others to the little theatre.
“You’ll never see him again,” Erik said with conviction. “The emigration officers are on his trail. They’ll get him. He’ll go back to China.”
“Do you know,” Florence spoke in a low, serious tone, “I feel rather sorry for him.”
“Yes, one does. But that is often so in China. The old is losing out, the new is coming. That is always sad. But it must be.”