The Living Joss

CHAPTER VI. KWA PREPARES

THE hidden temple was not long deserted after Hugo Urvin had left it. As soon as the sightseers had gone, Chon Look went to one side of the shrine and pressed his hand against the side of a five-shelved rack which contained ornaments of jade and china.

The rack moved upward to reveal a gaping hole in the wall. Chon Look entered the passage, and the rack smoothly descended without disturbing the objects on its shelves.

At the same time, a similar scene was taking place in another part of Chinatown, nearly a block away from the Buddhist shrine. A Chinese merchant, whose little shop bore the name of Soy Foon, along with Chinese characters, closed the front door of his place, and went into a back room.

Soy Foon — the merchant was attired in his native costume — approached a rack which resembled the one in the Buddhist shrine. He performed the same action that Chon Look had exerted. The rack raised upward with its load of curios; Soy Foon entered an open passage, and the barrier slid down in back of him.

When he came to a final barrier, Soy Foon pressed a catch, and a panel arose to admit him to Kwa’s temple. Chon Look was already there. The Buddhist had arrived by a different entrance than the one used by the merchant. Thus there were two passages to the hidden temple, starting from places a block apart.

Chon Look picked up the gong and gave it a soundless stroke. Both Chinamen blinked solemnly toward the heavy taboret. A terrific puff of smoke came from the burners. When it cleared away, the glaring figure of Kwa was in view. The Chinamen bowed to this creature, whom they hailed as a Living Joss.

Kwa was the first to speak. His words were crackling and slowly accented, but now they came in the Chinese tongue. He questioned these men who came to serve him, and they made their replies.

“The man is gone,” announced Chon Look. “He will do your bidding, great Kwa.”

“My men are prepared, great Kwa,” declared Soy Foon. “They are ready to do the bidding of Kwa. I have spoken with them tonight; with Koy Shan, the Mighty; with Chun Shi, the Crafty.”

Delight gleamed upon the hideous face of Kwa. The protruding teeth that extended from the puffy, snarling lips were fierce as they champed.

“It is well,” stated Kwa. “To you, Chon Look, belongs one duty; to you, Soy Foon, another. Those of the other race” — it was plain that he referred to Americans — “shall come to you, Chon Look. Those of our race” — both listeners bowed, as though accepting Kwa as a Chinese — “shall come to you, Soy Foon.

“Guard well the gates” — Kwa laughed scornfully — “for although Kwa needs no guarding, he is but seldom in his temple. Even now, I, Kwa, shall soon depart.”

The Living Joss ceased speaking. His wild, glaring eyes stared at one Celestial; then at the other. Chon Look and Soy Foon stood in apparent awe. While they watched, a puff of smoke came from the incense burners. The steamy cloud cleared. Kwa was gone from his throne.

The atmosphere seemed to absorb these jets; its heavy fragrance had become almost sickening, but the Chinese appeared used to it. Without another word, each man turned. Chon Look left by one entrance; Soy Foon by the other.

BACK in his shrine, Chon Look stood pondering while he awaited the arrival of another crowd of tourists. Chon Look had fared well since he had become a follower of Kwa. Once an obscure merchant in Chinatown, he had mysteriously received funds with which to establish his shrine as one gate to Kwa’s hidden temple.

The shrine was hardly more than a fake; nevertheless, Chon Look had not been criticized for opening it.

In fact, other Chinese admired his enterprise. American sightseers were considered open game in parts of Chinatown, and Chon Look, by a tie-up with the bus owners, soon had a going enterprise.

Backed by funds, he was in a position to defy would-be competitors. It was generally believed that Chon Look had been smart enough to turn the earnings from his old shop into this profitable business. Many Chinese would have been surprised had they known the true source of Chon Look’s funds.

The artificial Buddhist shrine formed the best possible blind for the hidden temple of Kwa. With a constant stream of sightseers pouring into it, Chon Look had no need for other revenue. Hence, the police who patrolled the Chinatown zone classed this place as one that needed no watching.

Chon Look knew this. His bland face indicated the fact after his return from Kwa’s inner temple.

Moreover, he understood Kwa’s wisdom in using this shrine as a place for contact with Americans.

The young man who had come here tonight had merely been an odd member of a bus party seeing Chinatown. That same man could come again — and yet again — always in the same capacity!

WHILE Chon Look was quietly engaged in his pretended shrine, Soy Foon was also contemplative. The Chinese merchant was in the rear room of his shop; and there he, too, was considering the power of Kwa.

Soy Foon was conducting a legitimate business. In every way, he did his utmost to keep his shop in proper order, and to make it look like a place of normal trade.

For Soy Foon had a more dangerous work than Chon Look. The front of his shop was the blind. The rear was a rendezvous for certain Chinamen who were of questionable character.

Like Chon Look, Soy Foon stayed within beck and call of Kwa. An electric light upon the wall of Soy Foon’s shop served as the signal. When that light glimmered, it meant that Kwa demanded an interview.

Such a light, Soy Foon knew, was also placed upon the wall of Chon Look’s shrine.

At present, Soy Foon’s light was extinguished. That was because Kwa no longer needed him tonight. The inner temple was empty. Kwa had gone. But others were coming — here, to this back room of the shop — and even while Soy Foon waited, a light tapping marked the arrival of those whom he expected.

The merchant opened a rear door. Two yellow-faced men entered the dim light of the little room. Both were dressed in American clothes, and might easily have concealed their Chinese identity by keeping in the semidarkness.

These men formed a remarkable contrast. One was tall, heavy-built, and stalwart — a giant when compared with Chinese of average stature. The other was a short, wiry creature of scarcely more than dwarfish proportions.

The huge man had a flat, expressionless face that bore several wide, reddish scars. These were the marks from tong battles in which he had participated. His latent strength was apparent in his actions.

Soy Foon gazed at him with a pleased grin. This fellow was well fitted to serve Kwa. For the powerful Chinaman was one who could summon other henchmen of his own. He was known as Koy Shan, the Mighty.

Soy Foon’s almond eyes turned toward the dwarfish man who accompanied Koy Shan. Here, Soy Foon observed a shrewd, leering face — a countenance that betokened both stealth and swiftness.

The lightness of the little man’s body was emphasized by the greater proportions of his arms and legs. He seemed like a yellow spider, ready to crawl upon its prey.

Here, too, was one who would do well for Kwa. This distorted creature was the one whom Soy Foon had termed Chun Shi, the Crafty.

The Chinese merchant faced this pair of ruffians, and began to speak in singsong lingo. His words brought evil smiles to the faces of Koy Shan and Chun Shi.

“Kwa has spoken.” Such was the gist of Soy Foon’s talk. “He states that the time is here. Each of you must serve. Great work lies before you. When your tasks have been accomplished, you will receive the rewards of Kwa.”

The grinning faces leered.

“Where might is needed,” continued Soy Foon, “Koy Shan will be the one to serve great Kwa. Where craft is required, Chun Shi will perform the duty. That is all. Each may return at the hour which I have appointed. When Kwa speaks again, one of you will be called upon to act.”

The evil-faced Chinamen bowed. They did not repeat the name of Kwa. That privilege belonged only to one like Soy Foon — a favorite who had actually met the Living Joss face to face.

Both Koy Shan and Chun Shi hoped that their reward would be promotion to the inner group — those members of the secret band of followers who were allowed to speak with Kwa himself.

Soy Foon returned the bow. Koy Shan and Chun Shi departed. The merchant was alone. A slow smile appeared upon his bland face. Soy Foon was pleased.

Like Chon Look, the Buddhist, Soy Foon, the merchant, was sure that he was worthy of the confidence given by Kwa.

Important service lay ahead. Kwa had prepared!

Koy Shan and Chun Shi had their orders. Hugo Urvin, too, had his instructions. Kwa was about to strike — where, no one knew.