earlderrbiggers.thehousewithoutakey-第42节

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　〃Of　course；〃　John　Quincy　replied。　〃Don't　let　me　keep　you。〃
　She　smiled　at　him　and　fled　with　Johnnie　at　her　side。　Looking　after　them；　John　Quincy　felt　his　heart　sink　to　his　boots；　an　unaccountable　sensation　of　age　and　helplessness。　Youth；　youth　was　going　through　that　door；　and　he　was　left　behind。
　〃A　great　pity　she　had　to　run；〃　said　Egan　in　a　kindly　voice。
　〃Why；　that's　all　right；〃　John　Quincy　assured　him。　〃Old　friend　of　the　family；　this　Lieutenant　Booth？〃
　〃Not　at　all。　Just　a　lad　Cary　met　at　parties　in　San　Francisco。　Won't　you　sit　down　and　have　a　smoke　with　me？〃
　〃Some　other　time；　thanks；〃　John　Quincy　said　wearily。　〃I　must　hurry　back　to　the　house。〃
　He　wanted　to　escape；　to　get　out　into　the　calm　lovely　night；　the　night　that　was　ruined　for　him　now。　He　walked　along　the　beach；　savagely　kicking　his　toes　into　the　white　sand。　〃Johnnie！〃　She　had　called　him　Johnnie。　And　the　way　she　had　looked　at　him；　too！　Again　John　Quincy　felt　that　sharp　pang　in　his　heart。　Foolish；　foolish；　better　go　back　to　Boston　and　forget。　Peaceful　old　Boston；　that　was　where　he　belonged。　He　was　an　old　man　out　here　…　thirty；　nearly。　Better　go　away　and　leave　these　children　to　love　and　the　moonlit　beach。
　Miss　Minerva　had　gone　in　the　big　car　to　call　on　friends；　and　the　house　was　quiet　as　the　tomb。　John　Quincy　wandered　aimlessly　about　the　rooms；　gloomy　and　bereft。　Down　at　the　Moana　an　Hawaiian　orchestra　was　playing　and　Lieutenant　Booth；　of　Richmond；　was　holding　Carlota　close　in　the　intimate　manner　affected　these　days　by　the　young。　Bah！　If　he　hadn't　been　ordered　to　leave　Hawaii；　by　gad；　he'd　go　to…morrow。
　The　telephone　rang。　None　of　the　servants　appeared　to　answer　it；　so　John　Quincy　went　himself。
　〃Charlie　Chan　speaking；〃　said　a　voice。　〃That　is　you；　Mr。　Winterslip？　Good。　Big　events　will　e　to　pass　very　quick。　Meet　me　drug　and　grocery　emporium　of　Liu　Yin；　number　927　River　Street；　soon　as　you　can　do　so。　You　savvy　locality？〃
　〃I'll　find　it；〃　cried　John　Quincy；　delighted。
　〃By　bank　of　stream。　I　will　await。　Good…by。〃
　Action　…　action　at　last！　John　Quincy's　heart　beat　fast。　Action　was　what　he　wanted　to…night。　As　usually　happens　in　a　crisis；　there　was　no　automobile　available；　the　roadster　was　at　a　garage　undergoing　repairs；　and　the　other　car　was　in　use。　He　hastened　over　to　Kalakaua　Avenue　intending　to　rent　a　machine；　but　a　trolley　approaching　at　the　moment　altered　his　plans　and　he　swung　aboard。
　Never　had　a　trolley　moved　at　so　reluctant　a　pace。　When　they　reached　the　corner　of　Fort　Street　in　the　center　of　the　city；　he　left　it　and　proceeded　on　foot。　The　hour　was　still　fairly　early；　but　the　scene　was　one　of　somnolent　calm。　A　couple　of　tourists　drifted　aimlessly　by。　About　the　bright　doorway　of　a　shooting　gallery　loitered　a　group　of　soldiers　from　the　fort；　with　a　sprinkling　of　enlisted　navy　men。　John　Quincy　hurried　on　down　King　Street；　past　Chinese　noodle　cafes　and　pawn　shops；　and　turned　presently　off　into　River　Street。
　On　his　left　was　the　river；　on　his　right　an　array　of　shabby　stores。　He　paused　at　the　door　of　number　927；　the　establishment　of　Liu　Yin。　Inside；　seated　behind　a　screen　that　revealed　only　their　heads；　a　number　of　Chinese　were　engrossed　in　a　friendly　little　game。　John　Quincy　opened　the　door；　a　bell　tinkled；　and　he　stepped　into　an　odor　of　must　and　decay。　Curious　sights　met　his　quick　eye；　dried　roots　and　herbs；　jars　of　sea…horse　skeletons；　dejected　ducks　flattened　out　and　varnished　to　tempt　the　palate；　gobbets　of　pork。　An　old　Chinese　man　rose　and　came　forward。
　〃I'm　looking　for　Mr。　Charlie　Chan；〃　said　John　Quincy。
　The　old　man　nodded　and　led　the　way　to　a　red　curtain　across　the　rear　of　the　shop。　He　lifted　it；　and　indicated　that　John　Quincy　was　to　pass。　The　boy　did　so；　and　came　into　a　bare　room　furnished　with　a　cot；　a　table　on　which　an　oil　lamp　burned　dimly　behind　a　smoky　chimney；　and　a　couple　of　chairs。　A　man　who　had　been　sitting　on　one　of　the　chairs　rose　suddenly；　a　huge　red…haired　man　with　the　smell　of　the　sea　about　him。
　〃Hello；〃　he　said。
　〃Is　Mr。　Chan　here？〃　John　Quincy　inquired。
　〃Not　yet。　He'll　be　along　in　a　minute。　What　say　to　a　drink　while　we're　waiting。　Hey；　Liu；　a　couple　glasses　that　rotten　rice　wine！〃
　The　Chinese　man　withdrew。　〃Sit　down；〃　said　the　man。　John　Quincy　obeyed；　the　sailor　sat　too。　One　of　his　eyelids　drooped　wickedly；　he　rested　his　hands　on　the　table　…　enormous　hairy　hands。　〃Charlie'll　be　here　pretty　quick；〃　he　said。　〃Then　I　got　a　little　story　to　tell　the　two　of　you。〃
　〃Yes？〃　John　Quincy　replied。　He　glanced　about　the　little　vile…smelling　room。　There　was　a　door；　a　closed　door；　at　the　back。　He　looked　again　at　the　red…haired　man。　He　wondered　how　he　was　going　to　get　out　of　there。
　For　he　knew　now　that　Charlie　Chan　had　not　called　him　on　the　telephone。　It　came　to　him　belatedly　that　the　voice　was　never　Charlie's。　〃You　savvy　locality？〃　the　voice　had　said。　A　clumsy　attempt　at　Chan's　style；　but　Chan　was　a　student　of　English；　he　dragged　his　words　painfully　from　the　poets；　he　was　careful　to　use　nothing　that　savored　of　〃pidgin。〃　No；　the　detective　had　not　telephoned；　he　was　no　doubt　at　home　now　bending　over　his　chess…board；　and　here　was　John　Quincy　shut　up　in　a　little　room　on　the　fringe　of　the　River　District　with　a　husky　sailorman　who　leered　at　him　knowingly。
　The　old　Chinese　man　returned　with　two　small　glasses　into　which　the　liquor　had　already　been　poured。　He　set　them　on　the　table。　The　red…haired　man　lifted　one　of　them。　〃Your　health；　sir；〃　he　said。
　John　Quincy　took　up　the　other　glass　and　raised　it　to　his　lips。　There　was　a　suspicious　eagerness　in　the　sailor's　one　good　eye。　John　Quincy　put　the　glass　back　on　the　table。　〃I'm　sorry；〃　he　said。　〃I　don't　want　a　drink；　thank　you。〃
　The　great　face　with　its　stubble　of　red　beard　leaned　close　to　his。　〃Y'　mean　you　won't　drink　with　me？〃　said　the　red…haired　man　belligerently。
　〃That's　just　what　I　mean；〃　John　Quincy　answered。　Might　as　well　get　it　over　with；　he　felt；　anything　was　better　than　this　suspense。　He　stood　up。　〃I'll　be　going　along；〃　he　announced。
　He　took　a　step　toward　the　red　curtain。　The　sailor；　evidently　a　fellow　of　few　words；　rose　and　got　in　his　way。　John　Quincy；　himself　feeling　the　futility　of　talk；　said　nothing；　but　struck　the　man　in　the　face。　The　sailor　struck　back　with　efficiency　and　promptness。　In　another　second　the　room　was　full　of　battle；　and　John　Quincy　saw　red　everywhere；　red　curtain；　red　hair；　red　lamp　flame；　great　red　hairy　hands　cunningly　seeking　his　face。　What　was　it　Roger　had　said？　〃Ever　fought　with　a　ship's　officer　…　the　old…fashioned　kind　with　fists　like　flying　hams？〃　No；　he　hadn't　up　to　then；　but　that　sweet　experience　was　his　now；　and　it　came　to　John　Quincy　pleasantly　that　he　was　doing　rather　well　at　his　new　trade。
　This　was　better　than　the　attic；　here　he　was　prepared　and　had　a　chance。　Time　and　again　he　got　his　hands　on　the　red　curtain；　only　to　be　dragged　back　and　subjected　to　a　new　attack。　The　sailor　was　seeking　to　knock　him　out；　and　though　many　of　his　blows　went　home；　that　happy　result　…　from　the　standpoint　of　the　red…haired　man　…　was　unaccountably　delayed。　John　Quincy　had　a　similar　aim　in　life；　they　lunged　noisily　about　the　room；　while　the　surprising　Orientals　in　the　front　of　the　shop　continued　their　quiet　game。
　John　Quincy　felt　himself　growing　weary；　his　breath　came　painfully；　he　realized　that　his　adversary　had　not　yet　begun　to　fight。　Standing　with　his　back　to　the　table　in　an　idle　moment　while　the　red…haired　man　made　plans　for　the　future；　the　boy　hit　on　a　plan　of　his　own。　He　overturned　the　table；　the　lamp　crashed　down；　darkness　fell　over　the　world。　In　the　final　glimmer　of　light　he　saw　the　big　man　ing　for　him　and　dropping　to　his　knees　he　tackled　in　the　approved　manner　of　Soldiers'　Field；　Cambridge；　Massachusetts。　Culture　prevailed；　the　sailor　went　on　his　head　with　a　resounding　thump；　John　Quincy　let　go　of　him　and　sought　the　nearest　exit。　It　happened　to　be　the　door　at　the　rear；　and　it　was　unlocked。
　He　passed　hurriedly　through　a　cluttered　back　yard　and　climbing　a　fence；　found　himself　in　the　neighborhood　known　as　the　River　District。　There　in　crazy　alleys　that　have　no　names；　no　sidewalks；　no　beginning　and　no　end；　five　races　live　together　in　the　dark。　Some　houses　were　above　the　walk　level；　some　below；　all　were　out　of　alignment。　John　Quincy　felt　he　had　wandered　into　a　futurist　drawing。　As　he　paused　he　heard　the　whine　and　clatter　of　Chinese　music；　the　clicking　of　a　typewriter；　the　rasp　of　a　cheap　phonograph　playing　American　jazz；　the　distant　scream　of　an　auto　horn；　a　child　wailing　Japanese　lamentations。　Footsteps　in　the　yard　beyond　the　fence　roused　him；　and　he　fled。
　He　must　get　out　of　this　mystic　maze　of　mean　alleys；　and　at　once。　Odd　painted　faces　loomed　in　the　dusk；　pasty…white　faces　with　just　a　suggestion　of　queer　costumes　beneath。　A　babel　of　tongues；　queer　eyes　that　glittered；　once　a　lean　hand　on　his　arm。　A　group　of　moon…faced　Chinese　children　under　a　lamp　who　scattered　at　his　approach。　And　when　he　paused　again；　out　of　breath；　the　patter　of　many　feet；　bare　feet；　sandaled　feet；　the　clatter　of　wooden　clogs；　the　squeak　of　cheap　shoes　made　in　his　own　Massachusetts。　Then　suddenly　the　thump　of　large　feet　such　as　might　belong　to　a　husky　sailor。　He　moved　on。
　Presently　he　came　into　the　parative　quiet　of　River　Street；　and　realized　that　he　had　traveled　in