The Fate Joss

CHAPTER II SEEKERS OF THE JOSS

YAT SOON had spoken wisely when he had told The Shadow that there were others who sought the Fate Joss. As arbiter of Chinatown, Yat Soon was well acquainted with the devious motives that actuated those within the boundaries of the Oriental district. In fact, Yat Soon’s status was unique; his own appointed duties brought him into frequent contact with representatives of many minor Chinese factions.

His position, however, was that of judge rather than investigator. Those with grievances came to Yat Soon, bringing facts and statements concerning their wrongs. The arbiter’s decisions were invariably wise ones — often dependent upon his own knowledge of Chinatown affairs. As a one-man supreme court, Yat Soon found it good policy to acquaint himself with conditions that might later develop into arguments that would be brought before him.

Yat Soon had heard the rumors concerning the Fate Joss. He knew that if trouble followed, he would be forced to render a verdict that would satisfy those who believed in the idol’s mystic power. With the wisdom of a Solomon, Yat Soon had already planned to meet such contingency. He had decided that the Fate Joss could never be classed as stolen property, because of its own reputed ability to control its destiny.

Yat Soon, himself, did not believe in the power of the Fate Joss. Tradition stated that it had previously vanished from the temple of Je Ho, in China, always to return. Yat Soon doubted such legends; nevertheless, he never disputed the beliefs of others. His fame as arbiter was grounded upon his policy of recognizing the viewpoints and privileges of all classes.

Moreover, Yat Soon never interfered in Chinese affairs. He waited until cases were brought to him; then issued mandates that were recognized as law.

“When Yat Soon speaks, all must do his bidding—”

That statement had become proverbial in Chinatown; but the strength of it lay in the fact that Yat Soon never spoke without just cause.

Hence Yat Soon himself could not have named “those others” who might be seeking the Fate Jass. He had indicated only that some might be good; and that some might be bad. Should the two conflict, Yat Soon could deliver final judgment. Meanwhile, he had done no more than learn the names of Americans who might be concerned in the matter of the Fate Joss.

For Yat Soon’s policy of non-interference with those who lived in Chinatown did not apply to persons foreign to the district. He frequently kept watch on Americans who mingled in Chinese affairs, knowing that they might later be beyond his jurisdiction.

Chichester Laudring and Raymond Roucard. To Yat Soon, Laudring was no more than a name. Roucard, however, had been seen in Chinatown. Should he appear here again, making inquiries regarding the Fate Joss, Yat Soon would surely delve deeper into the man’s affairs.

Raymond Roucard, however, had ceased to make such inquiries; Yat Soon had accepted that as proof that the American had paid no recent visit to Chinatown. In that assumption, Yat Soon was wrong.

AT the very time of The Shadow’s departure, Raymond Roucard was in Chinatown — but not where he could be openly seen. He was present in a lavish room, a place that formed a scene of Oriental splendor — where gorgeous dragon tapestries vied with thick Chinese rugs in the luxury of the surroundings.

A sallow, dapper man, slight of build but shrewd of eye, Roucard was seated in a massive teakwood chair. He was puffing at a cigarette, compressing it between lips that were topped by a pointed mustache.

Opposite him sat an elderly Chinaman, garbed in robes of vivid crimson. This Celestial was one whom Yat Soon would have immediately recognized. The red-clad Oriental was Shan Kwan the Mandarin.

Known and esteemed in Chinatown, Shan Kwan was one who had preserved the ancient customs of his native land. A survivor of the old caste system, he maintained an abode that would have rivaled a palace in old Peking. Shan Kwan had servitors who shared his traditions; he ruled them as loyal subjects of a tiny principality. For years his influence had prevailed; but never beyond his own portals. King in his little domain, Shan Kwan had stayed apart from the hubbub and confusion of modern Chinatown.

The presence of Raymond Roucard was proof that the American had gained answer to his inquiry. He had learned of Shan Kwan and had come to see the mandarin. The conversation that passed between the two was proof that this visit was not Roucard’s first.

“You have told me,” Shan Kwan was saying, in perfect English, “that you can obtain the Fate Joss of Je Ho; that you can obtain it for a price.”

“I can,” acknowledged Roucard, with a smile of self-assurance. “I can get it for fifty grand. In cash.”

“Fifty thousand dollars,” declared Shan Kwan, “is not an exorbitant price. You have not, however, given me assurance that you can find the person who now holds the Fate Joss.”

“I admit that, Shan Kwan. I wasn’t sure of it before; but I am right now. I can pull the deal tonight, if I have the money.”

Roucard eyed Shan Kwan; he noted the old Chinaman’s wrinkled face and thought that he detected an expression of gladness upon the impassive countenance. There was a kindliness in Shan Kwan’s air, a gentle attitude that showed the mandarin to be a man of great patience.

“When you pay money for the Fate Joss,” questioned Shan Kwan, “how will you bring it from the place where it is at present?”

“Easy enough,” laughed Roucard. “I’ll have it crated and shipped out by truck. Along with the two War Dogs; they’re a couple of funny cannons that were swiped along with it, from the temple.”

“And where will the Fate Joss and the War Dogs be delivered?”

“In back of the old Calumet Theater. The truckmen won’t think anything of dropping three crates there. The theater’s due to be opened in a couple of weeks; they’ll think that the stuff is equipment.

“Leave that part of it to me, Shan Kwan. I’ll get the Fate Joss there along around midnight. The crates can lay for a couple of hours; then your own men can pick them up and bring them here.”

Shan Kwan studied the speaker. He noted that Roucard was sincere, despite his crafty look. Roucard, however, felt uneasy as he met the mandarin’s quiet gaze.

“I’m on the level, Shan Kwan,” insisted Roucard. “I know I haven’t told you the name of the man I intend to deal with. But I’m not going to tell him your name, either. That makes it fair both ways.

“Don’t worry about trusting me with the fifty grand. All I want is a ten percent commission for the sale. I’ll get that from the fellow who has the Fate Joss. I’m not going to take it on the lam with the dough. I don’t want to be in wrong with you, and the law besides.

“Hand me the fifty grand and I’ll give you a receipt for it. If you don’t get the Fate Joss, you can have me pinched. But you’ll get the idol all right; and I’ll trust you to tear up the receipt—”

SHAN KWAN interrupted by rising. He clapped his hands twice; golden curtains spread, to admit a bowing servant who was clad in Chinese costume. Shan Kwan spoke, the servant retired.

A minute later, a Chinese girl entered the apartment. Roucard blinked as he observed the new arrival.

Possessed of rare and exotic beauty, the girl was the most charming person that Roucard had ever seen. Her features were exquisite; her complexion had a semblance to the color of old ivory. Dark, limpid eyes met Roucard’s gaze; the American noted long black eyelashes that matched the raven color of the girl’s smooth, perfect hair.

Marvelous in a golden Oriental robe, the girl advanced and stretched forth a shapely hand that held a ring of glistening keys. Shan Kwan spoke; the girl smiled and turned toward Roucard. Shan Kwan bowed an introduction.

“This is my niece,” stated the mandarin. “Her name is Loy Ming. She will take us to the temple that I have provided for the Fate Joss.”

Loy Ming led the way through the curtains. She unlocked a huge brass door; the barrier opened under the girl’s slight pressure. Shan Kwan and Roucard followed Loy Ming down a flight of stairs. The girl unlocked another barrier; they reached a long, wide corridor.

On the left were two mammoth doors of brass, swung wide. Through these open portals the trio descended a short flight of wide steps. They stood in a large square room, surrounded entirely by panels that were formed of decorated brass.

Except for screens of the same metal, the room was entirely unfurnished. A square pedestal of teakwood marked the exact center of the apartment; but it could hardly have been classed as furniture. The pedestal, however, was the object to which Shan Kwan pointed.

“It is for the Fate Joss,” stated the mandarin. “I shall have it stand here until I have arranged for it to return where it belongs: In the temple of Je Ho.”

“You’re going to send the Joss back to China?” queried Roucard, incredulously. “I thought you wanted to keep it for yourself, Shan Kwan.”

“Where the Fate Joss is,” returned the mandarin, solemnly, “that is where the Fate Joss chooses to be. To human beings belong the privilege of serving the Fate Joss. What we may decide to do is controlled by the power of the Joss.”

“Sounds screwy to me,” grinned Roucard. “But I don’t object. If the Fate Joss wants you to make the deal that brings it here, so much the better. Same with keeping it here or sending it to that temple in China.”

“The temple of Je Ho belongs to the faithful,” pronounced Shan Kwan. “That is where the Fate Joss has chosen to be, for centuries.”

“Well, you’re one of the faithful, aren’t you?” objected Roucard. “This joint of yours ought to be good enough for the Joss. Did you ever figure it that way?”

“When the Fate Joss decides,” returned Shan Kwan with a note of solemnity, “men are but instruments who serve him.”

TURNING, the mandarin spoke to his niece. Roucard watched the girl unlock a panel at the back of the brass-walled room. She entered a passage, closing the barrier behind her.

Roucard strolled about, studying the deep-set bas-relief of the panels. Looking upward, he noticed that the ceiling was also a mass of ornamental brass.

The floor, however, was entirely covered by a thick, tufted carpeting of Chinese design.

While Roucard was mentally trying to guess the sum that had been spent in equipping this Joss room, the back panel opened and Loy Ming returned. The girl gave a large envelope to Shan Kwan. The mandarin opened it and extracted a bundle of crisp bank notes. There were fifty in all, each of one thousand dollar denomination. Shan Kwan tendered the sum to Roucard.

Loy Ming led the way back to the lavish room above. There a servant appeared at Shan Kwan’s order. The mandarin shook hands with Roucard; the servitor conducted the visitor down another flight of stairs and opened a door to a quiet street. He made a signal that must have been caught by a man further down the street. Soon a cab rolled into view and Roucard entered it.

The taxi man was an American; the cab was a chance one that Roucard had hired to bring him to Chinatown. He had told the driver to wait around the corner until called. Roucard had entered Shan Kwan’s inconspicuous doorway unseen. With fifty thousand dollars in his pocket, he was leaving this border district of Chinatown. Roucard’s sallow lips wore a shrewd, pleased grin as they spoke a destination to the driver.

AS the cab rolled along a street that fringed the lighted center of Chinatown, a sharp-eyed man noticed it. This observer was a Chinaman, clad in American attire. Turning about, he hurried to the entrance of a small Chinese restaurant. He slackened pace as he entered and strolled past a group of Chinamen who were busy with chopsticks and bowls of rice.

Entering a rear room, the American-clad Chinaman found another who looked very much like himself. This was the proprietor of the restaurant, who was seated at a desk. The two spoke in English, their tones no more than whispers.

“What is it, Leng?” inquired the proprietor. “Have you seen the man, Roucard?”

“I have seen him, Tuan,” replied Leng. “He was in a taxicab, driving away from Shan Kwan’s. Doctor Tam must know of it.”

“Doctor Tam shall know,” returned Tuan, solemnly. He arose from his desk. “Remain here, Leng, until I return.”

Bitter grins appeared upon the faces of the Chinamen. Tuan arose and Leng took his place at the desk. Tuan departed by a door at the back of the little office.

Yat Soon had spoken true when he had told The Shadow that there were others who might seek the Fate Joss; and that their purposes might differ. Evil and good were due for conflict, following this detection of Raymond Roucard’s new visit to Chinatown.

Opposed to the hopes of Shan Kwan the Mandarin were the purposes of another Chinaman, whose followers called Doctor Tam. Already Tuan, informed by Leng, was on his way with word to the chief whose power they obeyed.