CHAPTER XIII
A MIDNIGHT TRYST
There could be no question but what the message was from a Chinese. Everything about it indicated that—the paper, the ink, and the peculiar manner in which even the English letters were formed with a brush in its bamboo holder, worked in an upright manner, after the style of Chinese from time immemorial.
“Yes, I guess Hop Wong wrote it all right,” agreed Neale. “But wait a minute. I have one of his laundry checks in my pocket now, and I mustn’t forget to call for my clean shirts. You’re going to have some more parties, aren’t you?” he appealed beseechingly to Ruth and Agnes.
“Oh, I suppose so, silly boy!” laughed Agnes. “But what has that to do with this?”
“A lot, maybe,” declared Neale. “I’ll compare a laundry check that Hop Wong positively gave me with this paper and we’ll see if they are alike.”
“I’m pretty sure they will be,” remarked Luke. “Though, after all, it isn’t much of a test.”
“Why not?” demanded Neale.
“Because these Chinese laundrymen get all their paper and other supplies from the same wholesale house, and the stuff seldom varies. However, it will do no harm to make the comparison.”
When the two pieces of paper were placed in conjunction, Neale’s laundry check and the strange message left in the apple tree, they were identical, and so was the hue of the ink.
Again Ruth read the message which seemed particularly hers, since the Chinese had sent word to her first that he wanted to see her.
“Korner Hous gals pay Hop Wong 100 dols
Hop Wong mak grat much money gals.”
“What in the world does it mean?” demanded Nalbro, clinging to Hal with a pretty air of proprietorship. “It sounds like a comic opera. What’s that one we went to see in Boston, Hal?”
“You mean the Mikado?”
“That was it. Wasn’t it lovely? Dear Little Buttercup—” and she hummed the air.
“Only that happened to be Japanese instead of Chinese, and ‘Dear Little Buttercup’ wasn’t in the Mikado at all! That’s the only difference,” observed Luke, with a grim chuckle.
“Oh, well, the idea is the same,” Nalbro asserted. “But what does it mean, anyhow?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” said Ruth.
“Isn’t it plain?” asked Agnes. “Hop Wong, for all his meekness, wants us to pay him a hundred dollars so he’ll make a great lot of money.”
“That isn’t the way I read it,” declared Neale.
“What do you make of it?” asked Luke.
“It seems to be a sort of promise,” went on Neale as he again studied the note. “Translating—ahem—I’ll pretend I’m in high school now, giving a recitation in Latin. Translating, I should say it ought to read like this:
“‘If the Corner House girls will pay Hop Wong one hundred dollars, Hop Wong, in return, will make a greater amount of money for the Corner House girls.’ That’s what it means.”
“Well, perhaps,” admitted Luke. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“But how does he propose to make money for us?” asked Ruth.
“Perhaps by enlarging his laundry,” suggested Agnes. “That’s it, I’ll wager a cookie!”
Neale, who had started toward her, turned aside with a disappointed air.
“I thought you were going to say—kiss!” he sighed.
“There is a time and place for everything!” Agnes told him.
“Go on with your theory, Agnes,” begged Luke. “It sounds interesting, to say the least.”
“Well, couldn’t it be that Hop Wong wants to do more business?” asked the girl. “You know how those Chinese are. They come over here, start a little place, and then get in a partner who does most of the work. I think Hop Wong wants to expand—to get in a partner—and he needs a hundred dollars to finance it. If we advance it he’ll give us a share in his laundry—make us stockholders, perhaps. Fancy being in the Chinese laundry business, Ruth! Wouldn’t it be grand?”
“I don’t know,” and Ruth spoke doubtfully. “If I thought he meant that I’d try to help him get a partner.”
“It would be just like your unusual kind spirit,” said Luke. “But I am not sure it does mean that. Read it again, Neale, just as it sounds.”
Neale read:
“‘Korner House gals pay Hop Wong 100 dols——’”
He was stopped by a cry from Dot.
“Oh, don’t give him my Alice-doll!” she begged.
“Silly child, what do you mean?” asked Agnes.
“Well, doesn’t that Chinaman want a hundred dolls?” asked Dot, tears coming into her eyes. “We haven’t got that many—not even Tess and me together. And, anyhow, I won’t give that Chinaman my Alice-doll and I don’t see why they call ’em Chinamen anyhow, ’cause they aren’t made of china. But he can’t have my Alice-doll!”
“He doesn’t want her, Dottie!” explained Ruth. “That’s just his way of saying dollars.”
“Oh! Are you sure?”
“Certainly she is,” put in Agnes. “And, Ruth, if you let these children stay up any later, eating ice cream and cake, they’ll be sick to-morrow and you’ll have to look after them alone, for Neale and I are going away.”
“Oh, are you, indeed?”
“Yes. But, seriously, Tess and Dot ought to go to bed.”
Instantly the little ones began begging for a half hour more, but Ruth decided that Agnes, for once, was right, and off to bed they were sent.
“I s’pose that means I’ve got to go,” sighed Sammy.
“Well—” began Ruth, with a look at Luke.
“Wait a minute, Sammy,” suggested the collegian. “We must get to the bottom of this,” he went on. “And to do so we must have a talk with this Chinese laundryman. Now it would seem that he trusts Sammy, though he may be very fond of you and Agnes, Ruth, for what you have done for him. Are you and Hop Wong good friends, Sammy?”
“Sure we are! I always take my pa’s collars there and he gives me those funny lichi nuts—I mean Hop Wong does.”
“Then Sammy is the boy to proceed with this,” went on Luke.
“What do you mean to do?” Ruth wanted to know.
“I want to send word to Hop Wong to come and explain this note, and I think if Sammy goes to the laundry alone and asks Hop Wong to come here, it will do the trick. If one of us goes, or if all of us go, it will look as though we suspected something. But we can safely send Sammy.”
“Will he go?” asked Ruth, half doubtfully.
“Sure I’ll go!” declared Sammy. “I’d like to. Maybe he’ll give me lichi nuts.”
“Oh, forget the nuts!” advised Luke. “This may mean business! Skip along, Sammy, and go in casually. Wait a minute!”
“What’s cas-casally?” inquired Sammy.
“I mean as if you just happened in,” explained Luke. “But I have a better plan. Can’t you send some laundry to be done up?” he appealed to Ruth.
“Yes, I could make up a bundle.”
“Please do so. We’ll make this seem as natural as possible.”
“Will he be open as late as this?” asked Hal.
“Oh, sure!” asserted Sammy. “He’s workin’ all night, Hop Wong is.”
A little later Sammy was dispatched with a bundle of things which needed the peculiar attention of the Chinese, and then the party of young folks at the Corner House waited.
Sammy came back much more quickly than they expected him. He gave the peculiar check to Ruth and said:
“He wasn’t there.”
“How did you leave the laundry then?” asked Luke.
“Oh, there was another Chink in the place—his partner, I guess. I asked him when Hop Wong would be back, but I couldn’t make out anything he said except ‘Tlhusdlay.’ I guess he meant Thursday.”
“But surely Hop Wong wouldn’t remain away that long!” said Agnes.
“No, he meant the laundry would be ready then,” suggested Neale. “That’s the first thing a new Chinese learns to say—the days of the week. So you didn’t see any sign of Hop Wong, Sammy?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe one of us had better go,” suggested Hal.
“Guess we had,” agreed Luke. “Come on, we three will stroll down there. Maybe Hop Wong will be back soon.”
But when the three young men reached the steaming laundry, with its peculiar acrid smell, Hop Wong was not in sight. A shuffling, slant-eyed and smiling representative came out from behind the calico curtains, however, and stretched forth a very clean hand with long nails.
“You got chleck?” he clicked.
“No check,” said Luke.
“No lauldly,” was the sententious reply.
“We haven’t any laundry,” went on Luke. “But listen here, friend, where is Hop Wong?”
“Hop Wong gone.”
“When Hop Wong come back?” and Luke tried not to listen to the chuckles of his friends at his vernacular talk.
“Hop Wong clum black mebby t’mollo.”
“Not until to-morrow? But maybe he come back to-night?”
“Maybe. You no glot lauldly?”
It seemed to worry Hop Wong’s partner (if such he was) that the visitors had neither laundry to leave nor a check with which to claim shirts and collars.
“No laundry,” said Luke again. “I think I’ll leave a note for the jolly beggar to call at the Corner House,” he said to Neale and Hal. “What do you say?”
“Can he read it after you write it?” asked Neale.
“Oh, I guess so. ‘Friend,’” and he turned to the other laundryman, “Hop Wong read let-letter—English letter—not Chinese?” His tone was questioning.
“Oh, shlure! Hop, he lead Englis’!”
“All right—here goes,” and Luke printed with the bamboo brush on a piece of laundry wrapping paper a request in as simple words as he could for Hop Wong to call at the Corner House as soon as he returned.
“There! Give it to Hop Wong as soon as he comes in,” said Luke. “Pronto! Quick, you know!”
“Pronto is Spanish—not Chinese,” chuckled Neale.
“Oh, well, what is it you say when you want a Chinese to hurry?”
“Chop-chop!” declared Hal.
“All right—chop-chop it is,” said Luke. “You give Hop Wong this chop-chop,” and he handed the other the message.
“All lite,” was the bored answer, and they filed out, leaving Hop Wong’s partner gravely trying to read the note which he held upside down.
“I only hope he doesn’t think ‘chop-chop’ means that he’s to bring up a bowl of rice and chop sticks,” said Neale, as they were on their way back.
“We’ll have to trust to luck,” replied Luke.
They found the girls eagerly and anxiously awaiting their return.
“Well?” asked Ruth.
They told her what had taken place.
“Then the only thing to do is to wait,” observed Agnes.
It seemed a long time, but really it was not more than an hour. Sammy had been sent home and Luke was about to propose that he and Neale and Hal should pay another visit to the laundry, when there came a tapping on the window of the room where they were all sitting. It happened to be the only window that was not raised, for the night was warm.
“What’s that?” exclaimed Nalbro, as the tapping on the glass sounded very loud, coming, as it did, after a period of silence.
“Look!” exclaimed Ruth.
She pointed to the casement, and in the light from the room they all saw the face of a Chinese peering at them.
“Hop Wong!” exclaimed Neale. “Hey, you!” he shouted, “come in here and stop playing your tricks!”
But, even as he spoke, the face of Hop Wong faded away and disappeared from sight.
“Well, what do you know about that!” cried Hal.
“After him!” cried Luke.
The three young men dashed from the house, scattering to search for the Chinaman. But he was not to be found anywhere around the house nor in the adjacent garden.
“Well, if he isn’t the limit!” exclaimed Luke, in exasperation. “What do you suppose his game is?”
“Give it up,” remarked Neale. “Maybe he’s hiding in the bushes under the window. We didn’t look there.”
An investigation of the shrubbery, however, failed to disclose any Chinese. But they did see, on the window sill, another note. It was written like the first, on laundry paper.
“Hang the fellow!” chuckled Luke. “He’s as bad at writing notes as Wilkins Micawber. Let’s see what this one says.”
They carried it into the house. There they read this:
“Hop Wong met Korner House gals midlight
under boy-pain tree in glarden.”
“Whew!” whistled Neale. “More of the same mystery! Wants the girls to meet him at midnight, does he? Not much!”