“Chinese,” he said, “an’ awful quick with their knives. I’m warnin’ ye. That’s all.”
Thereupon Murphy fell silent, standing beside Mr. Temple. And the group ahead, between the prisoners and the dark mouth of the alley exit to the streets of Chinatown, also was motionless. A slight sound, sibilant, as of whispering, came from it. Murphy, however, vouchsafed no conversation.
“What are we waiting for?” whispered Frank, the irrepressible.
“Ye’ll see in a minute,” answered Murphy, shortly.
Out of the doorway behind them, a moment later, debouched a little cavalcade. In the center of a group of six or eight bobbing heads rose a dark object that swayed perilously as it lurched through the door. Murphy sprang toward it with a low-voiced curse.
“Careful there, ye haythens,” he commanded.
The object steadied and came closer. Then the boys could see it was a closed palanquin, borne by eight Chinese.
“Whew,” whispered Frank, impressed in spite of himself. “I didn’t know there were any of those things left in existence.”
“Must be that old Chinaman we laid out,” ventured Bob.
The burden bearers passed the little group. Silken curtains were drawn tightly about the palanquin, and the boys could not see within. It disappeared with its bearers, looking in the darkness like some gigantic spider, into the mouth of the alley across the court. Murphy joined them.
“Come,” he said. “An’ remember. One cry out o’ ye an’ ye are all dead.”
“Was that the old Chinaman?” whispered Frank.
Murphy, a talkative man himself, already had noted that irrepressible quality in Frank. He chuckled grimly.
“Ye’d talk in hell, youngster, wouldn’t ye?” he said. “No old Wong Ho stays here. That was the Big Boss.”
They were moving across the courtyard, obedient to Murphy’s command. The guard of Chinamen had closed around them.
“But, say,” asked Frank, “will they carry that thing through the streets?”
“Shut up,” growled Murphy, “an’ do what you’re told. Here we are. Now in with you.”
They had emerged upon the dimly lighted street of Chinatown whence they had approached the courtyard trap under the impression they were being taken to a Joss House. Not a shuffling sandal slithered up or down the block. All was deserted as a graveyard. There was a reason. Guards at either end of the block, unostentatiously loitering on the sidewalk, had dropped a word, and in that quarter it was sufficient. No whites happened to be passing, and as for the Chinamen they scurried away without looking back.