The Chinese Tapestry

CHAPTER II. FRISCO NIGHT

EIGHT o’clock had brought a glow to the streets of San Francisco’s Chinatown. Through the early mist of an incoming sea fog, many lights were gleaming in a galaxy of Oriental glamour.

In contrast, and as reminders that this was America, not China, huge structures loomed high above the bizarre Oriental district. Massive gray ghosts amid the increeping fog, these were the towers of the business section. Just beyond the outskirts of Chinatown, these modern skyscrapers told that San Francisco thrived on finance and big business.

The blanketing fog would have completely obliterated them except for the presence of scattered lights that shone from a few high windows, where a few offices were still open for night workers.

IN one such office, on a twentieth floor, a weary, gray-haired man was seated behind a mahogany desk.

Wizened of face and bespectacled, he was eyeing a young man who stood beside the window puffing at a cigarette. The young man was wearing a tuxedo; he seemed anxious to leave the office.

“Your extravagance must cease!” The gray-haired man pounded the desk as he spoke. “I tell you, Colin—”

“Let me ask you a question, Mr. Dryer,” put in the young man, impatiently. “Just what right do you have to criticize the way in which I spend my money?”

“Every right!” snapped Dryer. “As the administrator of the estate of Tobias Eldreth, it is my duty to see that no funds are wasted. Your grandfather was a careful man—”

“I know all that,” interrupted Colin. “But your duty, Mr. Dryer, concerns only the funds that are under your direct management. My grandfather’s will provided that I was to receive a definite income, with no strings attached. What I do with the money I receive is my business. Not yours.”

“What insolence! Before your grandfather died, he told me specifically that I was to act as adviser to both his grandsons. He mentioned you by name: Colin Eldreth and Mark Eldreth. He said that I was to advise—”

“Save your advice for my cousin Mark. If he wants it, he can have it.”

“But you must take my advice also, Colin. That was your grandfather’s express command.”

Colin Eldreth smiled as he stepped from the window and extinguished his cigarette in an ash tray.

“I’ll take your advice, Mr. Dryer,” he said, indulgently, “but I don’t intend to use it. There is no clause in the will that says I have to follow what you tell me.”

“But you have become a ne’er-do-well — a spendthrift — a wastrel—”

“And I intend to keep on with it. That’s why I’m here tonight. To get my regular quota. The monthly cash and that special quarterly allowance that we were talking about last week.”

DRYER shrugged his shoulders in resigned fashion. He opened a desk drawer and brought out a large, flat check book. Colin Eldreth saw him tear out a check which bore the printed statement “Weldon Dryer, Attorney-at-Law” along the perforated end. The young man smiled and shook his head.

“No checks for me, Mr. Dryer,” he declared. “I would prefer cash. One thousand dollars as the monthly stipend; three thousand for the quarterly. Four thousand total.”

“Four thousand in currency?” questioned Dryer. “That is a large order, Colin. I would much rather give you a check.”

“But I want cash tonight. The full amount. Come along, Dryer; open that safe of yours. You have plenty of money in it. Count out four thousand. I’ll sign a receipt.”

Dryer hesitated, almost timidly. Colin chuckled and lighted another cigarette. He strolled toward the window.

“I won’t be watching while you turn the combination,” informed the young man. “I’ll be looking at the city — that is, as much of it as I can see, through all this fog. Hurry it, Dryer. I have an appointment.”

The lawyer arose. Creaky of gait, bent of frame, he crossed the office and stopped before the front of a large safe. While he manipulated the dial, Dryer threw suspicious glances over his shoulder. These assured him that Colin Eldreth was actually looking out the window.

In fact, the young man was utterly oblivious to Dryer’s actions. Colin had found a sight that intrigued him, the lights of Chinatown. They rose in vivid, changing colors that blinked a swath through the evening fog.

Exotic, mysterious, that glow compelled attention.

Colin Eldreth’s gaze was fixed, almost as though his eyes had sought chosen points amid the Oriental district. The smile upon his lips was reminiscent, an indication that he remembered certain spots in Chinatown.

It was not until Dryer spoke to him that Colin came out of his reverie. The young man swung about to see the lawyer back at the desk. Dryer was counting out four thousand dollars in crisp bank notes.

COLIN approached the desk and picked up a pen. He signed a printed receipt slip that lay beside the money. Folding the bills, he thrust them into his pocket. With a friendly grin, he clapped Dryer upon one stooped shoulder.

“I’ll be seeing you later, old chap,” remarked Colin. “Probably next month, at the earliest. I may be needing some money by the first.”

“What?” demanded Dryer. “You intend to spend all that you have received tonight?”

“Why not?”

“Because you should be storing for the future.”

“While I still have half a million held in trust? Be yourself, Dryer.”

“You cannot touch the trust fund, Colin.”

“All the more reason why I should not worry about saving money.”

“But you still have opportunity to accumulate—”

Dryer broke off as the door opened. A round-faced, moony-looking man stepped into view. Like Colin, this visitor was attired in a tuxedo. His face bore a slight resemblance to that of the young man at the desk.

“Well, well!” laughed Colin. “If it isn’t Cousin Mark. Hello, old bean. Haven’t seen you in a long while.”

“Good evening, Colin,” returned Mark Eldreth, in a cold tone. “Good evening, Mr. Dryer. Shall I wait in the outer office until your business is transacted?”

It was Colin who replied for Dryer. Strolling toward the door, Colin stopped beside his cousin. He and Mark made a definite contrast, for their resemblance ended with a slight facial likeness.

Colin was taller than his cousin. He was also more limber and looked younger, for Mark was somewhat portly. In addition, Colin possessed a nonchalance that was apparent in every action. His smile was one of sarcasm, his chuckle was tinged with unmasked disdain.

MARK, staring through large spectacles, looked troubled and disturbed at his cousin’s contemptuous attitude. Serious of expression, Mark drew away to make a path for Colin’s exit. He winced when Colin gave him a friendly jab in the ribs. That punch was more than the slight poke it appeared to be.

“Stay here, Mark,” snorted Colin. “Talk to Dryer. Let him talk to you. He has plenty of wise advice on investments and you’re the sort who would take it seriously.

“Say, old man!” Colin stepped back and pretended to notice Mark’s tuxedo for the first time. “You’re all dressed up! Don’t tell me that you’re stepping out for once?”

“I dined at the St. Francis,” responded Mark, seriously, “and this evening, I am entertaining guests at my home. We are having a musicale, Colin. We expect an excellent cello soloist. If you would care to hear his recital—”

“Sorry, old top. I have another engagement. I may drop in some evening, though. Say!” Colin snapped his fingers. “I might be coming past your house later this evening. If it isn’t too late, I may drop in, just to say hello and catch a glimpse of that long-haired cello player.”

“Stofsky is not long-haired. In fact, he is almost bald.”

“Indeed! A bald-headed cello player. That’s worth seeing. Baldheaded, eh? You’ll be that way soon, Mark.”

Thrusting out his hand, Colin rumpled Mark’s thin hair in a manner that was half rough, half good-natured.

Mark made a grab to protect his spectacles. Colin took advantage of the move to give his cousin another poke in the ribs.

As Mark doubled, spluttering, Colin waved to Dryer and strolled from the office giving the door a slam as sequel to his departure.

“Outrageous!” stormed Dryer. “That young upstart nearly broke the glass panel in the door. It is becoming unbearable, Mark. Never have I seen such insolence!”

“Colin’s all right, Mr. Dryer,” puffed Mark. “He’s — he’s just — just happy-go-lucky. Even if he does have the habit — the habit of punching the breath from people. Whoo!”

“You call him happy-go-lucky?” quizzed Dryer, as Mark seated himself in front of the desk. “I have a different term for Colin. I say that he is a ne’er-do-well.”

“Rather a harsh decision, Mr. Dryer.”

“One that is justified by circumstances. You have always stood up for Colin, Mark, even though he holds nothing but contempt for you.”

“We were boys together, Mr. Dryer. Almost like brothers.”

“You have become grown men, well in your thirties. You have taken up the serious affairs of life, Mark. Like Colin, you have an annual income of approximately twenty-five thousand dollars. You have handled it wisely, putting much of your money into sound investments.”

“Thanks to your advice, Mr. Dryer.”

“That is the very point, Mark. I have given Colin the advantage of my same sound judgment. He has refused to take it.”

“We discussed that fact a month ago, Mr. Dryer. I told you then that I was sure Colin was really saving money.”

“YOU are wrong, Mark.” Dryer paused, then continued. “Colin throws away every dollar that he gains. In fact, I suspect that he may even be in debt.”

“In debt? With all the money he receives? Impossible!”

“I have had him watched, as I told you I intended to do. Even if I cannot cut off his income, I can perform my duty to your grandfather and keep an eye on Colin’s affairs.”

“But is it fair to Colin? Suppose he learns—”

“He will not discover that he is being watched. I have hired an excellent investigator, a private detective named Durling. He has reported that Colin goes regularly to the Club Monterey.”

“Dreadful! That place has a terrible reputation.”

“It is infested by gamblers. It leads to bad associations. Yet Colin continues to go there nightly. Though he did not mention it, the Club Monterey is his destination tonight.”

Mark stared, aghast. Dryer shook his head in sorrowful fashion, then opened a drawer and brought out a stack of papers which he placed beside the check book.

“Let us talk about investments,” suggested the lawyer. “Since you will probably wish to purchase more securities, we should utilize the remainder of your time here to discuss sound offerings at present on the market.”

The conference began, with Colin Eldreth forgotten. That, in a sense, was unfortunate. For that young man was destined to play a part in coming circumstances that would involve the affairs of both Weldon Dryer and Mark Eldreth.