Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

822 Me no Me ‘“Me catchum Mlistler Hughes. like. Mlistler Hughes gone away. glad.” “That,” observed Dennis judiciously, ‘‘ was straight from the shoulder. I couldn’t have put it better myself!” Fu Moy hung his head shyly, but Mc- Carty pulled a shining new quarter from his pocket and held it out. ‘You catchum some of those nuts with the raisins inside for yourself—lichee. But tell me first why you no like Hughes.” The small, yellow, clawlike hand closed avidly over the coin. “When Hon. Gleat Lord come, Mlistler Hughes say Fu Moy velly nice boy. When Hon. Lord no come, Mlistler Hughes kickee, stlikee, hurtee head, allee time say Fu Moy go hellee.”’ The little slippered foot shot out sugges- tively and he rubbed his ear in realistic fashion. “The dirty hound, for abusing and curs- ing a little shaver, heathen or no!” Dennis exclaimed. ‘‘ Who’s the honorable lord, youngster? Mr. Orbit?” Again Fu Moy nodded and a look of adoration shone on the childish face. “Can do!” His tone was fervid. Lord Orbit velly gleat man!” ‘So that’s that! We know how he stands with the kid, all right,” McCarty in- terposed as Dennis started to speak again. But Fu Moy had evidently struck a con- genial topic. ‘Ching Lee catchum Mlistler Hughes make do.” He pulled up the sleeve of his embroidered silk jacket disclosing the fresh, livid marks of five thick fingers on his arm. ‘‘ Ching Lee gettee knifee, can do!” Fu Moy drew his hand across his throat, and Dennis shuddered. “ For the love of the saints!”’ “ When was this?” McCarty was careful to keep his tone indifferent. “ Ves—yes—”’ ‘““ Yesterday?” Fu Moy’s bullet head bobbed. “Hon. Lord come takee knifee away from Ching Lee, say no can do, p’leecee- man would come. He say Mlistler Hughes hurtee Fu Moy, he go! Mlistler Hughes * Hon. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. gone. Hon. Lord one piecee gleat man.’’ He looked down at the coin and then up with a sudden thought. ‘ Lichee nuts no can do! Slipples can do! Slipples ‘long Hon. Lord!” He had gestured toward his feet, and Dénnis turned puzzled eyes on his com- panion. ‘“ Does the youngster mean that he wants to buy a pair of slippers for Mr. Orbit?” Fu Moy’s expression was sufficient answer, and Dennis suggested: ‘“ Sure, he must have plenty of slippers, lad?” Fu Moy’s head shook decisively. “Allee blurn. Bang-bang flier Hon. Lord’s loom. Littlee flier, gleat big bang- bang! Slipples “longside chair, all same blurn.” “ve got him!” McCarty spoke aside in a hurried undertone; to the little boy whose dark, bright, slant eyes were fixed upon him as though for approval he added: ‘Sure, son! Get your honorable lord a pair of slippers, and if you can find any for a quarter let me know where. Now you run and tell him that two of the men who were here last night would like to speak to him. Think you can make him understand?” “Hon. Lord—speakee—Mac and me— here?” Dennis interpreted unexpectedly. The child nodded gravely. “Can do. Hon. Lord talkee my talk.” With another bow he turned and trotted from the room, and Dennis murmured: ‘Could you beat that? Mr. Orbit speaks Chinee! That kid was talking about the fire last night, but what did he mean by ‘ bang-bang ’? Did somebody fire a shot?” “They did not!” McCarty replied im- patiently. ‘ Something exploded in Orbit’s room and set fire to a chair and the slippers under it, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s a bright kid, little Fu Moy, with a gift of the gab that I’m wishful his uncle had! Only yesterday this Ching Lee tried to murder Hughes for mistreating the child, but Orbit stopped him. Fu Moy’s just been told that Hughes has gone away, Den- ny, and he thinks Orbit discharged him and worships the boss accordingly. I wonder if maybe Ching Lee tried again? I wonder if he ever heard of the Calabar bean?”’ TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK Oo CoOmicoookSs.se©