Adventure Magazine Cover — page 92: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

86 middle-aged man who to Jerry’s mind always dressed with a show of affluence unwarranted in a Government clerk, merely looked up from the papers on which he was working and then resumed his task. Jerry stood close to the acting chief’s desk, his sleeve all but brushing the official’s bald head with its rim of white hair—for Dobson was of that age when in the matter of appointment to office recognition of ability leaves off and political patronage begins. “Chief,’’ said Jerry, unconsciously dra- matic, “the Chinese quarter is full of Chinks!”’ “Eh?” Dobson, startled by the other’s proxim- ity, sat up so quickly that his gold-rimmed spectacles all but slipped off. The interruption nettled him. Besides, it was such a silly statement. As well say the sea is full of fish! “T dare say, Lynch,”’ he remarked sar- castically. “If it were full of Italians it wouldn’t be the Chinese quarter, would it?” Then thé published words of a senator regarding the outlook for the party caught his eye, and his attention focused entirely on the dispatch. Haight, the secretary, apparently saw something humorous in the reports he was checking, for he smiled. Jerry felt his cheeks burn and a wave of the disgust that had been growing in © him for weeks sweep over him. This was politics. A doddering old incompetent in a position of authority in such an im- portant branch of the Government, and the yellow school swimming through the net as if its meshes were of gossamer. He was sick of the whole thing. it; he’d go back to the force! He opened his mouth to tell the acting’ chief his personal opinion of the situation in its entirety when his eye caught some one standing at the door at the far side of the room. It was Clarke, the assistant chief; the real chief, said his friends. Clarke laid a finger on his lips, and beck- oned to Jerry. And the latter, with his ultimatum to Dobson undelivered, crossed the room and entered Clarke’s office. Clarke closed the door. “Sit down, Lynch,” he said with a genial smile, ‘and give me the facts. I know what you mean by saying the Chinese quarter is full of Chinks; what I want to know is, how?” Adventure Jerry had respect for Clarke. The as- sistant chief was but slightly older than himself, and that he was efficient and wrapped up in his work there could be no gainsaying. He it was who had been instrumental in bringing Jerry into the service, for inability to block the Asiatic horde had piqued his professional pride. “How, can’t tell you,. Mr; Clarke,” replied Jerry Lynch, enthusiasm gaining the upper hand once more. “But that’s what I propose to find out,”’ he continued. ‘All I know is that every rabbit-warren in the quarter is alive with coolies today. We can throw a dragnet through the district, and make every one account for himself. But even then it is doubtful if we’d get half of them, with nearly every building there undermined by dugouts and secret passages.” Clarke nodded agreement. ““We can’t raid them for another reason,”’ he supplemented. ‘‘Our reputation is at stake. Already the wealthy and influential Chinese are kicking about what they term unnecessary raids and the newspapers are agreeing with them to the extent of saying that the contraband coolies should be caught before they ever reach the Chinese quarter. If we raid them again, we court a grilling by the press. And that is what will make the department heads at Wash- ington sit up and take notice.”’ “But what is your theory about how this last bunch got in?” Jerry turned to the window, from which one could gaze on the sweep of the harbor as if it were a mill-pond. It was a peaceful view; the small shipping clustered along the wharves or dotting the placid surface here and there; a ferry plowing her way laboriously while steamers of varying sizes | headed inward or outward; a peaceful view that did not suggest from a distance the bustling activity it really represented. “There!” said Jerry, pointing. | CLARKE’S eyes followed the di- @@ rection of the other’s forefinger. Far out in the bay, on the fringe of the anchorage, was a large steam yacht. Her lines were of the clipper order, the overhang of her proboscis-like prow being accentuated by a long bowsprit. Smoke curled from a thick funnel placed midway between her two masts. From waterline to truck she was painted ° Gomichbooks (F@)