The Golden Horseshoe and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF Page B

time ahead for this Hook!
    â€œThis is the lay—” Hook began, and stopped, tongue-tied.
    A step had sounded in the next room.
    Immediately the British voice came through the portières, and there was an edge of exasperation to the drawl now:
    â€œThis is really too much! I can’t”—he said reahly and cawnt —“leave for a moment without having things done all wrong. Now just what got into you, Elvira, that you must go in and exhibit yourself to our detective friend?”
    Fear flashed into her smoke-grey eyes, and out again, and she spoke airily:
    â€œDon’t be altogether yellow,” she said. “Your precious neck can get along all right without so much guarding.”
    The portières parted, and I twisted my head around as far as I could get it for my first look at this man who was responsible for my still being alive. I saw a short fat man, hatted and coated for the street, and carrying a tan traveling bag in one hand.
    Then his face came into the yellow circle of light, and I saw that it was a Chinese face. A short fat Chinese, immaculately clothed in garments that were as British as his accent.
    â€œIt isn’t a matter of color,” he told the girl—and I understood now the full sting of her jibe; “it’s simply a matter of ordinary wisdom.”
    His face was a round yellow mask, and his voice was the same emotionless drawl that I had heard before; but I knew that he was as surely under the girl’s sway as the ugly man—or he wouldn’t have let her taunt bring him into the room. But I doubted that she’d find this Anglicized oriental as easily handled as Hook.
    â€œThere was no particular need,” the Chinese was still talking, “for this chap to have seen any of us.” He looked at me now for the first time, with little opaque eyes that were like two black seeds. “It’s quite possible that he didn’t know any of us, even by description. This showing ourselves to him is the most arrant sort of nonsense.”
    â€œAw, hell, Tai!” Hook blustered. “Quit your bellyaching, will you? What’s the diff? I’ll knock him off, and that takes care of that!”
    The Chinese set down his tan bag and shook his head.
    â€œThere will be no killing,” he drawled, “or there will be quite a bit of killing. You don’t mistake my meaning, do you, Hook?”
    Hook didn’t. His Adam’s apple ran up and down with the effort of his swallowing, and behind the cushion that was choking me, I thanked the yellow man again.
    Then this red-haired she-devil put her spoon in the dish.
    â€œHook’s always offering to do things that he has no intention of doing,” she told the Chinese.
    Hook’s ugly face blazed red at this reminder of his promise to get the Chinese, and he swallowed again, and his eyes looked as if nothing would have suited him better than an opportunity to crawl under something. But the girl had him; her influence was stronger than his cowardice.
    He suddenly stepped close to the Chinese, and from his advantage of a full head in height scowled down into the round yellow face that was as expressionless as a clock without hands.
    â€œTai,” the ugly man snarled; “you’re done. I’m sick and tired of all this dog you put on—acting like you was a king or something. I’ve took all the lip I’m going to take from a Chink! I’m going to—”
    He faltered, and his words faded away into silence. Tai looked up at him with eyes that were as hard and black and inhuman as two pieces of coal. Hook’s lips twitched and he flinched away a little.
    I stopped sweating. The yellow man had won again. But I had forgotten the red-haired she-devil.
    She laughed now—a mocking laugh that must have been like a knife to the ugly man.
    A bellow came from deep in his chest, and he hurled one big fist into the round blank face of the yellow