"Say, you'll sure pay the ten, will ye?" whined the fellow.
"Where's the place?" questioned Tom Halstead.
"Do you know where Yum Kee's restaurant is?"
"O' course. They call Yum Kee the Chinatown Delmonico."
"Lead me back there, then, and we'll get the carriage."
Tom Halstead had been around so many corners in this crowded, complex quarter of San Francisco that he had lost his bearings. The guide, however, piloted him back to the waiting cab within two minutes.
First of all, however, the young skipper peered in at the restaurant. Messrs. Baldwin and Ross were at one of the rear tables, eating.
"Tell the driver where to go, now, and we'll make the start," Tom instructed the guide. Soon afterwards they alighted before a brightly-lighted Chinese grocery store. Besides the proprietor, there were three or four clerks and a dozen yellow-skinned, pig-tailed customers in the place. The guide, with an air of being at home here, led the way straight back, pushing ajar a door at the rear. The instant they entered this rear compartment the sickening odor of sizzling opium greeted Captain Tom's nostrils. This proved to be the inevitable outer room, but the guide led into the adjoining bunk-room. In this latter apartment were half a dozen doors.
"Just look through 'em," whispered the guide. "Don't talk to me none. Remember, if there's a row here, I've got to make up a yarn that will square things for me."
Two of the private rooms into which Halstead boldly intruded proved to be empty.
In the third room a weazened little old Chinaman crouched over a lamp and a tray holding an outfit. He was preparing to remove these things. In the bunk, sprawled out, with glassy eyes, was a young man whom Tom Halstead recognized in a flash--weak, vice-ridden Gaston Giddings!
"Maybe what you likee here?" demanded the little old Chinaman, looking up with a snarl.
The guide had approached, taking a swift, shifty look in at the bunk.
"That's Doc Gaston, isn't it?" whispered Tom, over his shoulder.
"Don't ye know him?" queried the guide, suspiciously.
"He looks strange, with that glassy look in his eyes."
"That's Doc Gaston, all right. 'Least, that's what he calls himself in Chinatown."
"You allee same git--chop-chop," snarled the Chinaman, savagely. He had put the smoking outfit on the floor once more, and now pushed against the motor boat boy with both hands, trying to force him from the room. Tom, however, coolly and gravely picked the short Chinaman up off his feet, wheeled and put him down again on the floor of the bunkroom beyond.