The Manchu Skull

CHAPTER III. TRAPPED!

OUTSIDE, something had happened to the bright neon sign in front of the building. It had gone out, as had the street lamp directly opposite. This portion of the block was now in almost total darkness.

King discerned the skulking shadows of the two Sung Tong hatchet men, down near the mouth of the alley.

He transferred the sword-cane to his left hand and the hatbox to his right. Then he started to walk slowly toward the corner. The two tong men came after him, not trying to catch up, but keeping him in sight.

At first, King was puzzled by this. For if they intended to attack, there was no better place than right here.

A moment later, he understood the strategy. He caught sight of several other shapes, waiting ahead. There were men at either end of the block, so that no matter which direction he had taken from the Far Long Sin building, they could intercept him.

There was another thing which puzzled him, too. He couldn't decide whether Fung Tze had acted independently in setting the two broad-swordsmen upon him, or whether he was in league with the Sung Tong. Also, he could not bring himself to believe that the girl with the dark hair had cut On Long Sin's throat.

In any event, he understood clearly that the Sung Tong did not intend to allow him to leave Chinatown alive. They must know that he had the hundred thousand dollars in his pocket, for they had known of his appointment. They must also know what he was carrying in the hatbox. The Manchu skull was worth a small fortune—far more than the hundred and seven Sung Dynasty rubies. The Sung Tong was not going to let him take it away.

He saw those shadows ahead of him converge toward a spot about a hundred feet ahead, to cut him off! There were two men on the sidewalk, and two more were crossing the street.

He did not slacken his pace. But as he walked he twisted the knob of his cane, so that a single flip of the wrist would send the scabbard slithering away, leaving the naked blade in his hand.

At the same time he did not allow those converging shadows to monopolize his attention. He was aware that these hatchet men of the Sung Tong knew his reputation. In the past, many men here in Chinatown had tried, for one reason or another, to kill the Left- handed Swordsman. None of those were alive today!

These hatchet men might be trying a trick. They might be hoping to attract his attention, while one of their number ambushed him with a thrown knife from one of the dark doorways or alleys along the route. So King kept his eyes on the buildings he passed, watching for any sign of stealthy movement.

Now, only twenty feet separated him from the hatchet men ahead, while those behind were hurrying a little so as to come up with him. They meant to overwhelm him by the very weight of their numbers.

King gripped the knob of his sword-cane tightly. He wondered if this was to be his last adventure. He stopped walking, and put the hatbox down at his feet. He drew the sword out of its scabbard.

The hatchet men crowded in toward him. Knives appeared in their hands. They held them by the tips. They were going to throw. They knew very well that King never carried a gun, relying always upon his sword-cane. So they had the advantage of him.

King started to leap back toward a doorway. And, suddenly, a long black coupe, which had been parked down near the corner, came roaring down the street with its horn screaming.

King's eyes glittered. He couldn't be mistaken. That was the coupe of the black-haired girl.

The hatchet men turned, startled at the sudden clamor of sound in the street which had, until a moment ego, been deathly quiet. And then their voices rose in screams of terror. For the coupe jumped the curb and headed directly for them.

They scattered headlong before that monster of steel, frantically throwing themselves out of the way.

THE black-haired girl was at the wheel. King could see her face, white and strained. She twisted the car back into the gutter, and raced on toward King. When she came abreast of him, she clamped down on the brake and flung the door open.

“Get in!” she gasped breathlessly. King snatched the hatbox, and leaped into the car. A knife whined past his ear, and clanged against the metal framework. He slammed the door shut just as a second knife keened through the air. The closing door caught the blade, smashing it. And then the coupe was in motion, with the black-haired girl's foot all the way down on the accelerator.

She held the wheel tightly, and her knuckles showed white with the strain as they zoomed past the hatchet men, past the Far Long Sin Restaurant and down the dark length of narrow Pell Street toward the corner.

“Turn right!” King ordered.

She obeyed without hesitation. She drove silently for two blocks, and then King said: “Turn left!”

In the middle of the next block he said: “Stop here!” She slowed down and came to a stop. Then she turned and looked at him questioningly.

King twisted around and glanced through the rear window. There was no sign of pursuit. He fixed his eyes on the girl.

“Why did you come back?” he asked. The great black coils of hair which crowned her head were disarranged. There was a long rip in her black silk evening gown. Her eyes, black enough to match her hair, were wide open, flashing with excitement.

King decided that she was much younger than he had thought she was. Also that she was certainly no harpy of evil, as old Pu Yee had hinted.

“Why did you come back?” he repeated, a little more gently. “You got away safely.”

“I hated myself!” she said quickly. “I hated myself for running away and leaving you like that. I came back to see what had happened to. you.” She hesitated an instant, then: “I heard what those knife men called you. You are King, the Left-handed Swordsman.”

“You've heard of me?”

“Indeed, yes. I've lived in China for five years. I'm Roxanna Moore. I traveled up and down the Yangtze with my father, who was a missionary. Your name is a byword throughout Shansi and Hopei Provinces. They still talk of the time when you rescued Chiang Kai-Chek from the bandits in the hills behind Tientsin—with only a sword-cane for a weapon.”

“Thank you,” King said coldly. “But let's talk about something more important. A man was murdered tonight in the Far Long Sin Restaurant. That man was supposed to sell me something. You climbed out of the window of the restaurant. Fung Tze says it was you who cut the throat of On Long Sin.”

Roxanna Moore's eyes grew even wider. “No, no! On Long Sin was alive when I came into that room. Then the lights went out, and someone came in and grappled with me. There was more than one man, for someone was fighting with On Long Sin. On Long Sin cried out something, but it was in a dialect I didn't understand. Then the attackers ran from the room. I groped my way into the hall and saw the window; so I climbed out. Those knife men were waiting in the alley. They attacked me, and you came.”

“What were you doing in the office of On Long Sin?” King asked.

SHE studied his face for a long minute, as if wondering how far she could trust him. Then she seemed to make up her mind.

“I've got to trust someone tonight. I... I brought the Manchu skull to On Long Sin. It was in this hatbox.

I... I smuggled it in when I came back from China.” King's eyes narrowed. “You smuggled it? For Heaven's sake—why?”

She gulped. Her lower lip began to tremble just a little. “The Sung Tong made me do it. My brother, Dan, has been living here in New York. He worked for an importing house, and he got to know On Long Sin and Fung Tze. He played fan-tan upstairs in the gaming rooms, and he lost heavily. He forged a check and gave it to On Long Sin, and they found him out. The Sung Tong kidnaped him, and they sent word to me that if I wanted ever to see Dan alive again, I must smuggle in the Manchu skull, They arranged everything, and all I had to do was to carry the hatbox off the boat. I had the skull covered with an ordinary hat, but it wasn't necessary. The customs officer didn't even open the hatbox. I brought it directly to On Long Sin.”

King stared at her almost suspiciously. “Do you mean to say that the Sung Tong is holding your brother a prisoner—here in New York?”

“I don't know where, but I know he's a prisoner. They brought me a letter from him to prove it.”

“All right,” said King. “Go on! What happened when you brought the hatbox to On Long Sin's office?”

“I've told you.”

He smiled faintly and shook his head. “You haven't told me everything. You haven't told me about the rubies.”

Roxanna Moore looked utterly blank. “What rubies?”

Silently he took the pigeon-blood ruby from his pocket and held it up. “Haven't you seen this before? With a hundred and six like it?”

She shook her head. “It's beautiful. But this is the first time I've seen it.”

King sighed. “Those rubies were hidden in the Manchu skull. There is a cunning receptacle in it. The rubies came in the skull.”

She stared at him, aghast. “You. . . you think I'm lying to you?”

“I don't know what to think,” he said wearily. “But if your story is true, I'll help you. Come with me.”

He helped her out of the car, and picked up the hatbox. Then he guided her to a doorway a few feet back.

“This is my office,” he told her. “It's the only place in New York where you'll be safe tonight. The Sung Tong is after your life.”

King's office was a small street-front store. The glass window and the glass panel of the door were protected by heavy steel-wire grating. The glass itself was bullet proof. On the window there appeared Chinese lettering, and alongside it, the same words in English:

CHRISTOPHER KING

Resident Buyer

Of

ORIENTAL ANTIQUES

King opened the door and led her inside. He went to the back of the office and placed the hatbox with the Manchu skull in the wall safe.

He saw Roxanna watching him. “What are you going to do?” she asked in a small voice.

“I'm going to check on your story,” he informed her. “If it's true that your brother is a prisoner of the Sung Tong, I'll find him for you. And incidentally, I intend to find the murderer of On Long Sin!”'

He swung the safe door closed and twirled the dial. “Stay right here,” he told Roxanna. “You'll be as safe here as in a fortress. Open for no one—no one at all. Understand?”

She nodded. “But why should you do all this for me? I'm a stranger to you. Because of me, you've made enemies of the powerful Sung Tong. They'll kill you on sight—”

He smiled. “I was in a pretty tight place when you appeared with your coupe. I'm grateful for that.”

Suddenly there were tears in the eyes of Roxanna Moore. “I'm afraid—for you. A Mongolian fortuneteller read my palm in Shanghai just before I embarked. He said that I would bring death wherever I went. I laughed at him then. But so many men have died tonight. And now you're going—”

He stroked her hair. “Don't worry. The Left-handed Swordsman is pretty hard to kill. I think you've told me the truth, Roxanna. I'll find your brother for you.”

He pulled down the Venetian blinds over the window, so that no one could look in. Then he left her and went out, setting the double locks on the door so that they clicked shut behind him.

He got into Roxanna's coupe and drove it around the block. It was a rented Drive-Yourself car. But the hatchet men of the Sung Tong would recognize it, and he didn't want it in front of his office as a signpost for them.

He left the car and walked slowly back to Pell Street.