Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 089 - The Chinese Tapestry

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THE CHINESE TAPESTRY
Maxwell Grant
This page copyright © 2001 Blackmask Online.
http://www.blackmask.com
? CHAPTER I. EAST MEETS WEST
? CHAPTER II. FRISCO NIGHT
? CHAPTER III. AT THE CLUB
? CHAPTER IV. THE DEAD MAN SPEAKS
? CHAPTER V. THE SHADOW'S MOVE
? CHAPTER VI. STABS IN THE DARK
? CHAPTER VII. A FRIEND IN THE FOG
? CHAPTER VIII. KELROY TAKES ADVICE
? CHAPTER IX. THE CHINESE AUCTION
? CHAPTER X. FLIGHT IN THE DARK
? CHAPTER XI. NEW PLANS BEGIN
? CHAPTER XII. AT THE OFFICE
? CHAPTER XIII. AT THE MUSEUM
? CHAPTER XIV. THE SHADOW FOLLOWS
? CHAPTER XV. NORTH OF CHINATOWN
? CHAPTER XVI. A FRIENDSHIP RENEWED
? CHAPTER XVII. THE BURIED LAIR
? CHAPTER XVIII. THE SHADOW'S ALLY
? CHAPTER XIX. THE SHADOW'S RETURN
? CHAPTER XX. KU LUAN'S MESSAGE
? CHAPTER XXI. CROOKS STAND REVEALED
? CHAPTER XXII. SPOILS RECLAIMED
CHAPTER I. EAST MEETS WEST
THE man at the desk was a Chinaman.
An odd fact, considering his guise, his garb and his surroundings. Firm-faced, square-jawed, this
individual had the air of an American business man. He was wearing American clothes. His office was
fitted with a flat-topped desk, straight-backed chairs and a metal filing cabinet.
A stack of envelopes lay on the desk, close by the telephone. The Chinaman was opening one envelope;
like the others, it was addressed to Doctor Roy Tam. Removing the letter from within the envelope,
Doctor Tam read it carefully, then laid it aside and picked up the next envelope.
The office was lighted only by a desk lamp. Doctor Tam was in the center of the glare. Hence it was not
strange that he had failed to detect a movement in the haziness beyond. The door of the office had
opened while the Chinese physician had been reading the first letter. The door had closed again without
Tam noting it.
Something, however, caused the Chinaman to look up while his fingers stopped upon the second
envelope. Perhaps the cause was a faint swish that might have barely reached Tam's cars. The effect
upon the Chinaman was instantaneous. Doctor Tam's square face became rigid. His eyes remained fixed
upon the figure that they saw before them.
On the far side of the desk stood a being in black. A shrouded shape, this visitor had taken definite form
in his approach to the lamplight.
His shoulders were mantled by a sable-hued cloak. His head was topped by a broad-brimmed slouch
hat. Of his features, only his eyes were discernible. Fiery, they glowed from beneath the hat brim.
Doctor Tam's visitor was The Shadow. The rigidity of Tam's features showed a startlement that the
Chinese doctor could not repress. Then the slow smile that appeared upon Tam's yellowish face was
proof that the visit was a welcome one.
RISING, Doctor Tam bowed and indicated a chair close beside The Shadow. The cloaked visitor
seated himself; Tam did the same. Leaning both elbows upon the desk, Tam spoke in perfect English.
"I had not expected you to arrive so soon," stated the physician. "It is a long journey from New York to
San Francisco, even when one travels by air."
"Speed was imperative," replied The Shadow, his voice a weird whisper. "Our friend, Yat Soon,
informed me that you had immediate need of my presence."
"That is true," nodded Tam. "The cause was urgent, although time still remains. Here, in San Francisco, I
have encountered one of the strangest cases that I have ever seen in all my career as a physician.
"That is why I telegraphed Yat Soon, asking that he communicate with you at once. I urged that you
should come here, to take my place, my hope being that you could gain the answer which I have failed to
obtain."
The Shadow remained silent. Doctor Tam took this as a sign that he was to continue. Briskly, the
Chinaman resumed his statements.
"I came to San Francisco," declared Tam, "to continue the work that I had begun when we first met:
namely, to aid fellow Chinese in their efforts to adopt American ways and methods, to throw off
superstition and achieve progress.
"In this work, I discovered that my fame as a physician was valuable. I was recognized because of my
medical knowledge. As a consultant, I was welcomed in many quarters where ordinarily a man of my
advanced views might not have been received. It was in the capacity of physician that I visited the home
of Ku Luan."
There was something significant in the way that Doctor Tam pronounced the name Ku Luan. His
emphasis expressed both awe and admiration.
"A dead man who lives."
DOCTOR TAM pronounced the sentence solemnly. His face was tense; his eyes strained as he stared
toward The Shadow. Sincerely hoping to gain belief, Tam repeated the amazing statement.
"A dead man who lives!" Awe tinged Tam's tone. "That is the only way to describe Ku Luan. He is of old
China, Ku Luan. He is one who served the Manchu dynasty in the last years of its reign. When the
Emperor Suan-t'ung abdicated, nearly twenty-five years ago, Ku Luan left China. He came to America
and has lived in San Francisco ever since.
"Five days ago" - Doctor Tam raised his right hand; outstretched thumb and fingers indicated the number
- "five days ago, Ku Luan died. I say 'died' because he has shown no sign of life; yet in a sense he lives.
Wearied, he knew that death was coming. Voluntarily, he chose the semblance of death before his hour
had come.
"We know the reason why. Ku Luan has words to speak. He was living in hopes that he could talk to
someone who is not yet here. Who that person is, we cannot guess; nor can Ku Luan's servants tell us.
But of this, I am certain. Ku Luan, knowing that he had but ounces of strength left within him, showed the
amazing power to reserve that last-minute effort until a future time.
"One might say that Ku Luan is in a trance; yet that does not properly describe his true condition. It is
rarely true that a man can assume a trance at will; even more seldom can anyone rally from such a
condition. Yet Ku Luan has taken on a condition that looks like death; and somehow I believe that he
will shed it when he chooses."
When Tam delivered his final statement, The Shadow spoke in return. His whispered tone was one of
analysis.
"You have spoken of Ku Luan," declared The Shadow. "Ku Luan is one who holds a message. He will
resume life only when he is visited by a person to whom he is willing to entrust his secret. He will know
when that person has arrived."
Doctor Tam nodded eagerly. Such were the very thoughts that he was holding.
"Though Ku Luan seems dead," added The Shadow, "you have tried to impress him with your will. You
have hoped that he might speak to you."
"That is true. On my last visit to Ku Luan, I nearly gained success. As I spoke to him, I sensed that his
life force was gathering for its final effort. I lacked the will, however. Ku Luan did not speak."
"You believe that Ku Luan would speak to me?"
"I do. My hope is that you will visit Ku Luan in my stead. He has accepted me as a friend, if not as a
confidant. If he will accept you as he has accepted me"
Doctor Tam broke off, staring. Gloved hands were moving upward from the front of The Shadow's
cloak. Blackclad fingers brushed away the slouch hat, then plucked loose the collar of the cloak.
Falling garments revealed a square-jawed visage. It was sight of that countenance that had caused
Doctor Tam's astonishment.
THE Chinaman was looking at his own face, as clearly as if he had been staring into a mirror. The
Shadow had taken Tam's request literally. A master of make-up, The Shadow had adopted a
countenance that was the exact duplicate of Doctor Tam's.
"I am prepared," announced The Shadow. His voice had become the choppy speech that characterized
Tam's own tone. "At what time shall Doctor Roy Tam visit Ku Luan, to learn a dead man's secret?"
Doctor Tam gasped. Then, managing a smile, he reached for the telephone. He spoke in Chinese, giving
the name of Doctor Doi Yan. For the Chinese in San Francisco use their own exchange, where the
names of fully one thousand subscribers are known and recognized by Chinese telephone operators.
Doctor Tam referred to this fact while he waited for the connection.
"Although I consider myself to be American," stated Tam, "I wisely established my office within the
boundary of Chinatown, in order to be closer to those whom I meet.
"Doctor Doi Yan is Ku Luan's physician. I shall learn at what hour he intends to visit his patient. I shall
arrange for you" - with a broadening smile, Tam corrected himself - "I shall arrange for myself to
accompany Doctor Doi Yan this evening."
The connection was completed, a few moments later. The Shadow listened while Doctor Roy Tam held
a brief conversation with Doctor Doi Yan.
"It is nearly eight o'clock," Tam told The Shadow. "At nine, Doctor Doi Yan will stop at the new Sun
Kew Restaurant. There he will meet Doctor Roy Tam. Together, they will visit the living dead man, Ku
Luan."
THE SHADOW arose. Tam watched him fold cloak and hat, to place them within a flattened briefcase
that opened from its collapsed condition and became a small satchel.
The Shadow was wearing street clothes; his attire resembled that of Doctor Tam. The square-jawed
Chinaman smiled. His part was to remain here, out of sight, while The Shadow roamed as Doctor Roy
Tam.
"At Ku Luan's," remarked Tam, "you will meet two servants. One is Tsing Chan, the steward; the other is
Wong Soy, who is merely an attendant. I mention these names because I have met both Tsing Chan and
Wong Soy. It would be natural for me to recognize them."
The Shadow bowed in Tam's own fashion, then responded with a perfect imitation of the physician's
voice.
"I thank you," said The Shadow. "I shall remember the names that you have spoken. I shall meet Doctor
Doi Yan when he comes to the Sun Kew.
"Meanwhile, you may call the Aldebaran Hotel and ask for Mr. Vincent. He accompanied me from New
York by plane. Tell Vincent who you are and tell him the exact location of Ku Luan's house. Also tell
Vincent that he is to be outside that house by half past eight, with 'Miles' Crofton."
Doctor Tam bowed. With one hand on the telephone, he watched The Shadow turn about and walk
toward the door. Even to his gait, The Shadow was giving a perfect impersonation of Doctor Roy Tam.
This was not surprising, for in the past, when Tam had lived in New York, The Shadow had gained much
knowledge of The Chinese physician's ways and manners. (Note: See "The Fate Joss," Vol. XIV No.
3.)
The door closed to mark the departure of the pretended Doctor Tam. Lifting the receiver of the
telephone, Doctor Tam put in the call to the Aldebaran Hotel. Tam was smiling as he waited for the
connection; and his smile was one of true satisfaction. For Doctor Tam was convinced that tonight would
bring success.
He was sure that The Shadow would return with Ku Luan's secret, straight from the lips of the living
dead man!
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.
CHAPTER III. AT THE CLUB
IT was twenty minutes after eight when Colin Eldreth had left Weldon Dryer's office. Fifteen minutes
later, an expensive coupe drew up in front of the pretentious Club Monterey. The driver of the coupe
was Colin Eldreth. He was glancing at his watch when he alighted.
Ascending a flight of stone steps, Colin entered the portals of the gambling casino. As soon as he was out
of sight, a stocky observer stepped into view from a doorway across the street. This lurker followed the
path that Colin had taken.
Only privileged persons were allowed admittance to the Club Monterey. The stocky man was evidently
one of these, for when he rang at an inner door, an eye observed him through a peephole and bolts
unclicked immediately afterward.
But when the stocky man stepped past the inner portal, he was stopped by a big husky who drew him
into a corner of the little anteroom.
"Listen, Durling," whispered the husky, "I'm takin' a chance on lettin' you in here. If the boss knowed you
was a dick -"
"Forget it, Pete," returned the stocky man. "You know I'm not working with the force. I'm a private
investigator."
"But that don't mean you won't be makin' trouble -"
"Who for?"
"For the boss, or maybe some of the boys -"
"Not a chance, Pete. Listen: Stew Randler is welcome to all the dough he can make out of this joint. The
more suckers he takes over, the better."
"Then you ain't tryin' to drag nobody out o' here?"
"Not by a long shot. I'm watching that guy Eldreth, who just came in; but he don't know it. Where he
goes, I go - that is, when he's loose around town. When he comes here, I've got to come here, too.
That's all, Pete."
"All right. Go on in."
DURLING shoved a bill into Pete's fist. The husky grinned and pocketed the money. He unlocked an
inner door. Durling strolled into a room where a crowd was thronged at tables and a bar.
This was the direct route to the roulette room, but before proceeding, Durling looked about for Colin
Eldreth. He spied his man near the end of a bar.
Colin was talking to a tuxedoed roue whom he addressed as Reggie. Apparently the fellow was a
wealthy young man of Colin's social set. Durling approached and ordered a drink. He listened to the
conversation. Reggie was talking in maudlin fashion.
"Wish I had money like you have," announced Reggie. "Wish I did, Colin. You know what I'd do?"
Leaning half over the bar, Reggie stared at Colin, gesturing with a glass from which liquid spilled.
"You know what I'd do?" Reggie cocked his head as he repeated the question. "I'd clean up. Clean up,
right here in this good old Club Monterey, at that good old roulette table. Yes, sir.
"I've picked up a system, Colin. Good system, too, but it takes money. If I had a piece of paper and a
pencil, I'd show you the system. It works, it does."
Colin was smiling, shaking his head, to indicate his disbelief. Reggie grabbed the lapel of Colin's tuxedo.
"You have a million dollars," he announced. "A couple of million, Colin Eldreth"
"Certainly. But my cousin and I did not receive much of the money. The rest all went to colleges,
museums and what not."
"That's too bad, Colin. Too bad, old fellow. Still, you have enough money to gamble with."
"I know it. That is what I have been doing, Reggie."
"Winning a lot of money?"
"No. Losing too much."
Reggie eyed his companion in disbelief. Colin strolled away, apparently anxious to end the conversation.
Durling watched his quarry. He saw Colin stop and look toward the door. Following the direction of the
young man's gaze, Durling observed a new entrant.
THIS was a man of medium height, broad-shouldered and hard-faced. Like Colin, he was wearing a
tuxedo, and the smooth fit of his garb served well to modify his tough appearance. Durling knew the
newcomer by sight. The fellow was "Hype" Mellick, a gambler of notorious repute.
More than that, Hype was a man of many connections, none of which were too definitely known. He had
gained his nickname from a shady past in which he had been recognized as an ace at the "hype" game, a
specialty among short-change artists.
Hype was looking for someone. It turned out to be Colin Eldreth. Watching both men, Durling saw a
gesture pass between them. Colin swung about and strolled toward the roulette room. Hype approached
the bar, loitered there a few moments and then followed. Durling waited a half minute before taking up
the trail.
The dick had no trouble in looking for the faces that he wanted. A brief inspection showed him that Colin
Eldreth and Hype Mellick were absent, although the pair had certainly come into this room. Durling
stared about at curtained walls and doorways.
A man was entering the roulette room from a door at the opposite side. It was "Stew" Randler, the
proprietor, a big, red-faced man with short-clipped hair.
Durling had met Randler and did not want the man to see him. Accordingly, the dick edged off past one
of the roulette tables.
As soon as Randler had gone through to the barroom, Durling headed toward the door from which the
proprietor had come. Entering, he found a passage, with doors on both sides. One barrier was ajar.
Durling approached it and peered into a lighted room. He saw Colin Eldreth seated opposite Hype
Mellick, a card table between the two.
Durling had arrived too late to catch the opening conversation. However it had started, the matter was
apparently reaching a settlement, for Colin had taken a roll of crisp bills from his pocket and was
counting off bank notes of one-hundred-dollar denomination.
"Thirty-three - thirty-four -"
Colin stopped to add one more bill to the lot. He passed the cash to Hype with the comment:
"Thirty-five hundred."
Hype crinkled the bills as he received them, then eyed the money that Colin still held. Hype growled a
reminder.
"It was supposed to be five grand coming to Zack and me."
"What of it?" queried Colin. "You know that I'll have the rest of the money for you."
"You've got it now. Right there in your fist."
"Only five hundred dollars. I need that much."
摘要：

THECHINESETAPESTRYMaxwellGrantThispagecopyright©2001BlackmaskOnline.http://www.blackmask.com?CHAPTERI.EASTMEETSWEST?CHAPTERII.FRISCONIGHT?CHAPTERIII.ATTHECLUB?CHAPTERIV.THEDEADMANSPEAKS?CHAPTERV.THESHADOW'SMOVE?CHAPTERVI.STABSINTHEDARK?CHAPTERVII.AFRIENDINTHEFOG?CHAPTERVIII.KELROYTAKESADVICE?CHAPTER...

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