The Manchu Skull

     He was interrupted by a voice from the doorway.

     “He speaks the truth, Venerable Leader!”

     King turned, and saw the fat Fung Tze standing in the doorway.

     Fung Tze was sweating just a little as he came into the room. He had a leather-covered book in his hand. The edges of the pages were gilt.

     “When we moved the furniture from the room where On Long Sin was killed, I found his diary in the desk.”

     He opened the book, revealing thick Chinese heiroglyphics covering the pages.

     “On Long Sin writes here that the girl knew nothing of the rubies. He says that he did not plan to smuggle them in the skull, but that he received word from Shanghai that they would be in the receptacle. I read no further, but came here quickly—”

     Pu Yee snatched the book from him. “It is impossible. No one else could have killed On Long Sin but the girl. Unless—” His eyes rested on Fung Tze, but he did not finish the sentence.

     Fung Tze drew himself up proudly. “I have always served the Sung Tong loyally!”

     Pu Yee read hastily in the book. His face showed nothing. In a moment he looked up, and sighed.

     “I am sorry, King san, but this changes nothing. We must be paid for those rubies—or the girl and her brother will die.”

     “In that case,” said King, “there's no use wasting time!”

     He slashed down with his cane at the nearest hatchet man, crashing the ferrule against the fellow's skull. Then he leaped forward before the others could bring their knives into play, and seized old Pu Yee by the arm. He yanked the old man from the chair, twisted his arm behind him, then swiveled around, facing Fung Tze and the hatchet men. Pu Yee's body was now a shield for King against thrown knives.

     King did not exert pressure against Pu Yee's arm. He merely held him motionless. With his left hand, he flipped the cane so that the scabbard fell away, leaving the blade naked and ready. He placed the point of the rapier against Pu Yee's side.

     “Now we can bargain again,” he said calmly.

“Your life, Pu Yee, for the life of Daniel Moore. Order him released at once.”

     The hatchet men were crouching, with knives gripped by the blades, ready to throw if they got a chance. Fung Tze's hand stole into his pocket and came out with a gun. But he did not raise it, for it would have been impossible to hit King without striking Pu Yee.

     PU YEE stood calmly with King's blade at his side. “It seems,” he said sadly, “that superior force must have its way. The young man shall be released—”

     His quiet tone was so deceptive that King was almost lulled into a false sense of security. He was almost unprepared for the swift and deadly jujitsu trick which the old man attempted.

     Pu Yee twisted like a contortionist, throwing the weight of his body away from the arm lock, at the same time bringing his free hand around in a savage blow aimed at the side of King's neck.

     That blow, with the edge of the hand, has been known to kill a man. King had seen it done. One who was not familiar with that trick might not have understood the danger. But King knew.

     He bent his head down, burying his neck, so that the edge of Pu Yee's stiff hand struck the top of his head instead. He dared not let go of Pu Yee, for that would mean an avalanche of knives from the hatchet men. So he kept his grip on the old man's arm, and dropped to the floor, dragging Pu Yee with him. He wound his arm around Pu Yee's waist and lifted him over his shoulder, keeping the bulk of his body between himself and the knife men.

     Pu Yee squirmed and clawed, struggling madly. King saw the knife men spreading out in a circle to come at him from all sides. He held the clawing, scratching old man on his shoulder, and began to back swiftly toward the door behind the chair. He did not know where it would lead, but he had no choice.

     “Kill him!” screamed Pu Yee. “Do not let him escape—”

     And then something happened—something which brought a sudden hush as of death upon the room.

     A cascade of lustrous, pigeon-blood rubies began to pour down upon the thick-napped Afghanistan rug.

     They were falling from somewhere beneath the ceremonial robe of Pu Yee!

     The tong knife men stopped still in their stride. Fung Tze uttered a low gasp. The eyes of all the yellow men became suddenly veiled and ominous.

     King breathed a little sigh. Slowly, he allowed the suddenly quiet Pu Yee to slide down from his shoulder. Then he went across the room, past the frozen tong men, and picked up the scabbard from the floor. No one stopped him. No one looked at him. All eyes were focused in silent and dreadful condemnation upon the Venerable Leader of the Sung Tong.

     It was Fung Tze who spoke first.

     “King san, the Sung Tong owes you apology and reparation. We never thought that our own Venerable Leader had the rubies which we demanded of you. We never thought—that Pu Yee would be a traitor to the tong!”

     King sheathed his sword. He smiled grimly. He looked at old Pu Yee, who stood silent and motionless, with the resigned, fatalistic look of the Orient upon his parchmentlike face.

     “It was Pu Yee,” said King, “who engineered the smuggling of the rubies in the Manchu skull. It was he who entered the office and killed On Long Sin. When he left the restaurant, he saw me coming up Pell Street and attempted to turn me back, knowing that I would complicate things.”

     Pu Yee bowed his head. “It is all true. I saw a vision of wealth and power. With the Sung Dynasty rubies, I could have gone to another land and set myself up as a prosperous mandarin. I could have lived a life of ease.”

     Fung Tze motioned to two of the hatchet men. They stepped forward and ranged themselves on either side of Pu Yee. The old man raised his head.

     “I am ready!”

     Slowly, with the two executioners at his side, he marched out of the room.

     “What are you going to do with him?” King asked Fung Tze.

     The fat Chinaman looked away. “Do not ask, King san.

The Sung Tong has its own mode of punishment for traitors. It were better that you did not know. I shall order that the boy, Daniel Moore, be freed. These rubies—they are yours for the price which On Long Sin set: one hundred thousand dollars.”

     King nodded. He took the money out of his wallet and handed it over. The hatchet men, at a nod from Fung Tze, began to pick up the scattered rubies.

     “Get them ready,” said King. “I'll be back to pick them up in twenty minutes—and to get Daniel Moore. I'll have the Manchu skull with me. It's yours.”

     He started for the door. “Where do you go, King san?”

Fung Tze inquired. At the door, King turned and grinned slowly. “There's a black-haired girl in my office who thinks she's a jinx. I'm on my way to tell her different!”