“Ho, ho, ho!” interrupted Wau Shun, chuckling softly, and helping himself again from the bottle.
“And the writings of Lee Toy?” asked Quong Lung, after a while.
Without a word Wau Shun laid a packet on the table.
“But these pertain to Sam Lee only,” exclaimed Quong Lung, after he had examined the roll of papers; and his nostrils dilated slightly. “Thou hast, doubtless, others that relate to thee and to me.”
“Now, nay, All-Seeing; the packet is as Lee Toy gave it to me—so Sam Lee will tell thee.”
“If the dead may speak,” said Quong Lung, deliberately.
The other turned toward him with amazement and horror in his looks. It was admirably done, but it did not even attract the attention of Quong Lung, who quietly flicked the ash from his cigar, and went on: “And thou wast seen by two of our brethren in the crowd that witnessed the end of Sam Lee; and ’twere easy, too, to find witnesses who saw thee slay Sam Lee.” Then, after a pause, he went on: “Moreover, only fools tell lies to such as me. None may sit on that chair and lie to me—only lift not thy voice at the proof of it, lest death come to thee suddenly!”
The next moment the horror-stricken highbinder was writhing under the spell of an electric current, strong enough to prevent him from relaxing his hold on the arms of his chair, which he had grasped as he tried to spring to his feet.
After Quong Lung had disarmed his victim, he said: “Thou wilt be here two days hence, and at the same hour, with the other writings of Lee Toy! Two of thy brethren await thee on the street, and will see to thy punctuality. Drink once more, Wau Shun, thou hast need. Ho, ho!”
III.