he so blithely intended for others.
Sheriff Nesbitt has done his best to track down the accused arsonist, and his office has sent telegraph alerts to every county in the state, but Nesbitt is still at a loss for a clue in any direction. It is as though O’Flynn and his people have simply dropped off the earth. This mystery can only lead me to believe that there has been a criminal conspiracy afoot all along, and that O’Flynn, on behalf of the propertied interests, played a key role. The obvious motive aimed at driving the Chinese from China Point so that property values adjacent to that location would find parity with the rest of Pacific Grove.
Still waters may run deep, but any competent douser can find them, and though the truth of the matter may not have been spoken of openly, it was known to most thinking citizens. Unfortunately, few people chose to speak out with anything akin to a moral opinion that might muddy their own wells. Too many people had too much at stake to indulge a controversy that would only come back to haunt other aspects of their commercial and political interests. So in the end I believe nothing viable will be done to compensate the Chinese for their losses.
I personally, and on my own account, went so far as to follow O’Flynn’s parting suggestion. I therefore advertised for two months on the message page of Railroad News. Without mentioning O’Flynn’s name, in case it had been changed recently, I requested only that “a recently departed employee of Hopkins Laboratory in Pacific Grove contact me on a matter of mutual interest and dire importance.” As I should have suspected from the first, no response has been forthcoming, nor do I really expect that I will hear any word from that quarter again.
December 18, 1906
THOSE IN POLITICAL CIRCLES HEREABOUTS have informed me that the case for the people at China Point will not be resolved any time soon. Some interests are predicting a year or two, but the odds in favor of the plaintiffs are slim indeed. Unfortunately, this eventuality only fuels my sense of injustice and the absolute need for fair dealings all around.
Embracing a circling flock of guilt-tinged sentiments, I determined at least to restore what little remained of the treasure Red Billy O’Flynn had discovered and sequestered away for his own profit. I began to believe that perhaps the return of my historically pertinent documents (in lieu of the artifacts themselves) might at least mitigate some small portion of the loss the Chinese community had recently experienced. Either way, my evidence could be of little use to anyone beyond a truly dedicated scholar of fifteenth-century Chinese inscriptions, or to the local Chinese themselves.
I berated myself again and again for not insisting that O’Flynn tell me where he had hidden the stones before he departed. But then I have to acknowledge that I’m not really a person who finds overt confrontation a viable approach. Such a coarse contention between us might have inspired O’Flynn to make off with the rubbings and photographs as well.
Since I could do little at present to alleviate my sense of culpability, I determined to unburden myself of the problem as best I could. With this in mind I sent word to Master Ah Chung, who I was given to understand was now the majordomo of the local tong at Point Alones. He soon returned a polite reply by messenger requesting I pay him a visit at the tong’s meeting hall on the following day at noon, which I did.
Master Ah Chung met me promptly at noon and invited me to share tea. The small meeting hall was deserted except for three tong elders who sat to one side and said nothing during the whole proceedings. Ah Shu Chung, to use his formal name, spoke an educated English that was flawed only by the chronic Chinese difficulty with the consonants l and r, which one might easily get past with patience and a close attention to context.
It was affirmed that he was acquainted with my erstwhile employee, Mr. Bill O’Flynn. He said that many people in the village had done business with Mr. O’Flynn, and that he was always held in high regard for his fair and honorable dealings. I then took the opportunity to inform him that, after what I had to impart, such an opinion might be significantly degraded. He invited me to speak at liberty, and so I went on to tell him everything I knew of O’Flynn’s activities and his subsequent discoveries at Cypress Point. I told Master Ah Chung all I knew of the Chinese artifacts that O’Flynn had unearthed under the fallen cypress and then brought to me for a scholarly examination and appraisal. I then presented Master Ah Chung with the portfolio containing the stone rubbings and photographs. I invited him to inspect the material in detail.
What followed surprised me more than I can say. Master Ah Chung opened the folio and examined the contents in what appeared to be a very cursory fashion. Though he examined the rubbings and seemed to be reading a small part of the text, he showed no outward emotion whatsoever. Indeed, after a short perusal, he closed the folio and passed it back across the table to me without comment.
This gesture so surprised me that I found myself at a loss for words. I was stunned that there should be so little interest or recognition of the obvious. My frustration instantly inspired me to stir the pot in the opposite direction. I changed the subject by asking my host if he was aware that there was an official contention that the fire that destroyed the fishing village had in fact been a matter of arson, and the suspected perpetrator was none other than their friend Mr. Billy O’Flynn. I further stated that there were several reliable witnesses who would attest to the fact that O’Flynn had been seen leaving the China Point barn after the flames broke out. Again I was surprised by the lack of appreciable reaction on the part of my interlocutor.
After a few moments of silence, my host turned to the three elders discreetly seated at the side of the hall and spoke to them in Chinese. These gentlemen spoke among themselves for a few moments, and then turned back and nodded to Master Ah Chung. He in turn pleaded for my patience and requested that I not speak of this matter with anyone else until our next interview, which he proposed should take place the following Monday at the same location.
I agreed, of course, but in a state of some confusion, which led to several sleepless nights as I speculated and wondered just what the Chinese had perceived from my statements. I was also puzzled by the fact that Master Ah Chung had so easily, and without the least hesitation, returned my evidence as though it was only a matter of passing interest at best.
I arrived back at the tong hall on the appointed day and time, and was again kindly received by my host, Master Ah Chung. However, this time he was accompanied not by the silent elders, but by a Chinese gentleman of unusual aspect. This gentleman was introduced to me as Dr. Lao-Hong, and a more prepossessing figure would be hard to imagine. Unlike Master Ah Chung and many others who still wore Chinese dress and kept their hair in the traditional queue, Dr. Lao-Hong was Western in every possible detail. His hair was fashionably dressed, he wore an expensive gray suit, and he sported a blue silk waistcoat and highly polished boots. The doctor peered through gold-rimmed spectacles, and across his waistcoat hung a heavy gold watch chain from which was suspended a unique-looking fob of translucent amber mounted in gold. But what astounded me most was the fact that Dr. Lao-Hong spoke perfect English without the least trace of an accent, though his pronunciation hinted that he might have studied somewhere in the east, perhaps Boston or New York.
Again tea was served, and it was then that I was introduced to the purpose of Dr. Lao-Hong’s visit. The gentleman explained that he functioned as a trade representative for the Three Corporations of San Francisco. In that capacity he handled the export of dried squid for the local fishing villages. He also dealt in exports of salt-cured eels, smoked abalone, and quality abalone shells, which were used in China to manufacture mother-of-pearl buttons and other decorations.
