The Chinese Tapestry

CHAPTER XV. NORTH OF CHINATOWN

NORTHWARD, past the lights of Chinatown. Such was the route The Shadow’s cab was following. The trail was moving into another of San Francisco’s foreign districts, the Latin Quarter beneath the towering slopes of Telegraph Hill.

Extending from the neighborhood where Columbus Avenue makes its diagonal crossing of Broadway, the Latin Quarter forms a picturesque location. Kearny Street, extending northward, makes giant strides on the precipitous climb of Telegraph Hill, where topply buildings cling precariously to the heights.

On the southern fringe lies the business section, as foreign as an old world city. It was to this terrain that Hype Mellick was riding.

The Shadow had lost sight of the cab ahead. He was pursuing a blind course, banking on reaching the destination not far behind Hype’s taxi.

But when the cab swung across a lighted, populated street and stopped upon a steep, dingy thoroughfare, it was plain that The Shadow’s driver had lost precious minutes in the race. Hype Mellick had arrived; his cab had gone.

A gloved hand thrust a fare through the front window. The Shadow stepped from the cab; he swung the door shut and faded into darkness. The cab pulled away; The Shadow’s only clue was the fact that Hype had come here.

For he was sure, from close observation of the gambler, that Hype had not suspected anyone upon his trail. Reasoning thus, The Shadow felt positive that Hype must be in one of the buildings close at hand.

Several of the structures appeared eligible. They were buildings that looked like half-deserted tenements, easy of entrance and with poorly lighted halls. The Shadow entered one of the buildings and began his search.

So stealthy was his action that spying eyes did not discern his cloaked figure. Those eyes belonged to a huddled watcher, crouched in a space between two buildings diagonally across the street.

In fact, the watcher was outside the building that Hype had actually entered. The Shadow had missed on his first choice, but he had puzzled the watching man. That fellow had seen the second cab arrive after the first; but he had not witnessed any passenger alighting from it.

Hence the watcher was half puzzled as he continued his vigil. There was a double reason for the spy’s crouch. In addition to the fact that he was on secret duty, he was one who preferred to keep under cover in the Latin Quarter. The watcher was a Chinaman.

INSIDE the building, Hype had reached a dingy room at the rear of the second floor. Dim light had shown Hype as he rapped cautiously at the closed door. From across the hall, sharp eyes peered through the space of a door that was ajar.

The Chinaman, outside, was not the only watcher on duty about this crumbly building. Hype, however, passed the inspection of the inside guard. No motion came from that partly opened door.

The closed door opened in response to Hype’s knock. The gambler entered; he came face to face with Zack Ruggey, who was standing in the glare of a kerosene lantern that rested on a rickety table. Hype delivered a grin; Zack responded sourly.

“What’s the matter?” growled Hype. “Getting cold feet here in this hideout?”

“Pretty near it,” retorted Zack. His face, unshaven, added to the ugliness of his appearance. “The bulls ain’t going to look forever in Chinatown. This is their next bet, Hype.”

“But they haven’t spotted you yet. Not even when you sneaked down to that Mex restaurant to get my call.”

“No. Nobody’s bothered me. But it won’t be long before Romson wises to himself. He knows we used greasers on that job at the bazaar. He ought to figure that they’d come from hereabouts.”

“Romson is still looking for Tsing Chan.” Hype chuckled. “That’s keeping him busy. Tsing Chan has buried himself so deep that it would take a Chinaman to find him. No Chinaman will talk. For all the bulls know, Tsing Chan may have taken it on the lam.”

Hype paused to look around the room. Zack opened the battered door to a closet and thrust his arm deep into a high shelf. He came out with a blackened object — the teakwood box with the glittering silver dragon!

“Here it is, Hype,” stated Zack. “Time you were coming to take a look at it. What do you make of it?”

As he spoke, Zack opened the teakwood box and extracted a folded silken tapestry. He spread the cloth upon the table. Hype chuckled at the sight of ornamental squares. Each section of the tapestry contained a special symbol. There were twelve squares in all; three in each cross row, and the design was four lines deep.

“Here’s where I match them,” announced Hype. From his pocket he drew a thick wad of prayer papers.

“Let’s see the top line on this tapestry. Blue pagoda — red sun — green spider. Here they are, on the prayer papers.”

“Say!” exclaimed Zack. “Where did you get those? They’ve got words written on them—”

“Sure,” interrupted Hype, with a snort. “That’s why I’m using them. Blue pagoda means ‘key’; red sun means ‘small’; green spider means ‘find.’ That’s pidgin English for you: ‘Small key find,’ for our first line.”

CHOOSING more prayer papers, Hype formed a second line, matching the tapestry symbol for symbol.

The characters were a yellow poppy, a green bell and a purple bird. The words were “unlocks,” “gold, and “treasure.”

“‘Unlocks gold treasure,’” quoted Hype. “Now we’re getting somewhere, Zack.”

“How about the small key we’ve got to find?”

“What do we need a key for? When we locate the swag, we’ll crack whatever holds it. This next line is important, Zack.”

A red lantern, a black pagoda, a green serpent. Hype found the prayer papers and read the words upon them:

“‘Large statue beneath.’”

Zack gave an explanation. Grinning, Hype silenced him and arranged the last line that matched the tapestry: a yellow fish, a green gate and a red coin. He laughed as he read the three words: ‘Casket — one — single.’”

Fingering each paper, following the lines in order, Hype repeated his entire finding aloud, in short, choppy sentences:

“‘Key small find. Unlocks gold treasure. Large statue beneath. Casket one single.’”

Then, looking at Zack, Hype commented:

“Trust a Chinaman to frame a message like that. He tells us about the small ‘key’; and what it does. Then, in three words, he puts us wise to where it is. After that, we find out that the swag is in one casket and to make sure we understand it, he tacks on the word “single’ at the finish.

“What counts is that third line: ‘Large statue beneath.’ Well, Zack, ever since we came in on this racket, we figured that the Chinese room at the Oriental Museum would be the spot. Ku Luan had a chance to bury his dough there, like Wong Soy suggested. That’s why we fixed Singledon to work with us.”

“But we’ve laid off cracking the museum, Hype. After we dug in under the room, from the house next door, you said to quit for a while.”

“Sure I did. There was no use busting in until we knew where the swag was. We’d have queered the racket. Listen, Zack: the walls in that room are smooth. The floor is rock, even though it isn’t thick. The big statue of the Chinese emperor is right in the center.”

“It’s the only big one?”

“Yeah. The nine little ones are set in the walls. Most of them made of silver — one gold one, as I remember it — but they’re anchored. Hollow probably — not worth grabbing, even to melt. What we want is the big swag. It’s going to be a cinch to get it.”

“By shoving the tunnel farther?”

“Sure. Straight under the center, where the big statue is. Singledon is on night duty. He can get into the Chinese room and signal us with taps. I’ll fix all that, Zack. Maybe we won’t have to carve up through the floor at all. This is what we wanted — the secret we were after.

“We’d have had it the first night, if Wong Soy had let that mug Kelroy find what he was after. We could have bumped Kelroy and grabbed this teakwood box. Well, we got it, thanks to that Mex crew of yours. Everything’s jake.”

“What about Kelroy?” inquired Zack. “Ain’t he due to be rubbed out anyway?”

“Later, maybe,” decided Hype, “but after we grabbed the box, Kelroy didn’t count. We’re leaving him alone tonight. He’s down at the Thurbley Hotel.”

“When did he blow in there?”

“This afternoon. I got the dope when I picked up these prayer papers. Forget Kelroy. When he’s slated for a bump, we’ll decoy him to the spot. Right now, the swag is more important. We want to snatch the casket.” Hype chuckled as he copied the prayer-paper message upon the back of an envelope. “The ‘one single casket.’ Well, one’s all we’ve got to find under that large statue.”

HYPE folded the tapestry and replaced it in the teakwood box. He handed the latter to Zack and motioned toward the closet shelf.

“Stow it,” ordered Hype. “We’ll scram by the back door. I’m on my way to spill the news and give back these goofy prayer papers. You round up the regulars and head for the old house next to the museum.”

“You’ll be up at the Club Monterey?”

“Not a chance. I’m through with that joint from now on. I’ve got a meeting away from there; after that, I’ll join you and pass the word. Say, what about the mugs you’ve got around here? You ought to pay them off.”

“Slip me the dough.”

Hype pulled out a roll of bills, the same money that Durling had seen him receive from Colin Eldreth. He counted off some large denomination currency. Hype took the bills.

“I’ll hand this to the boss Mex across the hall,” said Zack. “He can fix the guys with him. He’ll take care of the other guys outside, too. I’ll tell ‘em to lock this room and stay away from it. Unless you want to take the box along with us.”

Hype shook his head.

“The box is safer here,” he decided. “We’ve got to move careful when we get outside, Zack. Nobody knows about this joint. Let the box stay here in the hideout.”

Zack went across the hall. He returned and motioned to Hype. They extinguished the lantern, stole through the gloomy hall and descended the stairway. After they were gone, two Mexicans came from the room across the way. One motioned the other to watch the stairs while he went to lock the door of the abandoned hideout.

As the Mexican stooped beside the door, he heard a sudden gasp from the gloomy stairway. Swinging about, drawing a machete, he saw his companion locked in a sudden struggle. A weird, black-cloaked being had sprung suddenly from the lower darkness, to battle with the Mexican on the stairs.

THE SHADOW had arrived at the right house, just too late to spot Hype and Zack in their departure through a lower rear door. Coming up, he had encountered the Mexican. He had caught the fellow’s throat in a choking grasp. For The Shadow knew that he was dealing with one of those invaders who had carried away the teakwood box at the Chinese bazaar.

Twisting as he battled, The Shadow spied the Mexican above. The fellow was coming from the door, in one terrific leap. His hand was already driving forward, to loose the machete in a deadly whirl. Locked with one antagonist, The Shadow had no chance to dive from the well-aimed blade.

Instead, he wrenched his foe about. With one hard twist, The Shadow threw the fellow’s body straight into the path of the glimmering blade. The machete whistled to a human mark, the back of the Mexican with whom The Shadow wrestled. The blade drove deep, clear to its hilt. The Shadow’s antagonist emitted a gargled cry and sagged, clawing helplessly at the air.

The driving Mexican stopped, weaponless. Then, with a snarl at his adversary, he sprang bare-handed upon The Shadow. The cloaked figure came up to meet him at the head of the stairs.

The Shadow dropped as the Mexican struck him; then the cloaked shoulders launched upward.

Head-foremost, the leering attacker went hurtling down the steps, to strike the wall with a smashing thud.

The Shadow surveyed the thwarted cutthroats. The first man had ceased writhing. The knife blade had done its deadly work. The one who had hurled the knife was motionless. His head had been cracked when it struck the crude brick wall at the landing of the stairs. His neck was broken also; the twist of his head gave proof of that.

The would-be killers were finished.

Noting the open door, The Shadow hoisted one body and carried it into an empty room. He did the same with the other. He closed the door and stepped across the hall Well had The Shadow guessed what had happened before his arrival. Hype Mellick had met with some subordinate, probably Zack Ruggey. The two had left the hideout and would not return.

It would be long before the bodies of the Mexicans were discovered. That was to The Shadow’s liking; it meant that he could set out on a trail, without the likelihood of the crooks learning that he had waged a battle here. But before departing, The Shadow intended to search that room where he had first seen the stooping Mexican at the door.

The Shadow entered the hideout. He left the door open, to gain slight light from the hall. He spied the closet door; he opened it and saw the shelf. The Shadow reached up; his gloved hands found the teakwood box.

Drawing it from the shelf, The Shadow carried his prize toward the hall. Dull light brought a glint from the silver dragon. Then came startling surprise.

For once, The Shadow was too intent upon a discovery. His hands were already lifting the cover of the box; even his keen ears had failed to hear a sound. It was the sight of two driving hands that woke The Shadow into belated action.

Swift, yellow claws, they thrust themselves straight beneath The Shadow’s eyes and grabbed the teakwood box. Looking up, The Shadow stared squarely into the face of a glaring Chinaman clad in a loose-bloused native costume. It was the man who had been on watch outside. He had not seen The Shadow enter; but he had caught sounds of the fray with the Mexicans. Arriving with surprising stealth, the Chinaman had come in time to snatch the teakwood box from The Shadow’s very clutch. Nor did he stop with that defiant deed.

WHEELING, the Chinaman made one long bound for the stairs. He reached the landing with a single leap, as The Shadow, whisking forth an automatic, came after him.

Rebounding as he hit the wall, the Chinaman dived for the bottom of the stairs, still ahead of his cloaked pursuer. Before The Shadow could overtake him, he had scurried through the rear door, to dash off amid the darkness.

The Shadow stopped in the lower hall. Pursuit was useless; he had been balked in a fashion that he had never before experienced. Yet from his lips came a whispered laugh, grim and prophetic.

For in this loss of the teakwood box, The Shadow had gained proof that forgotten factors were still at work. Though he held his prize no longer, he knew where it had gone.

A new, swift quest would be The Shadow’s. One that he had dropped because of others, a trail which he had expected to take later, after other matters had been finished. Urgency now compelled him to alter the course that he had previously chosen.

Again The Shadow laughed. His whispered mirth faded with his figure. Lost in blackness, The Shadow was bound on the trail of the Chinaman who had vanished with the all-important teakwood box.