Tales of Chinatown

Sax Rohmer
Tales of Chinatown, by Sax
Rohmer

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Title: Tales of Chinatown
Author: Sax Rohmer

Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5697] [Yes, we are more than one
year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on August 9, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF
CHINATOWN ***

Produced by Alan Johns

TALES OF CHINATOWN
BY SAX ROHMER
1916

CONTENTS
THE DAUGHTER OF HUANG CHOW KERRY'S KID THE
PIGTAIL OF HI WING HO THE HOUSE OF GOLDEN JOSS THE
MAN WITH THE SHAVEN SKULL THE WHITE HAT
TCHERIAPIN THE DANCE OF THE VEILS THE HAND OF THE
MANDARIN QUONG THE KEY OF THE TEMPLE OF HEAVEN

THE DAUGHTER OF HUANG CHOW

I

"DIAMOND FRED"

In the saloon bar of a public-house, situated only a few hundred yards
from the official frontier of Chinatown, two men sat at a small table in
a corner, engaged in earnest conversation. They afforded a sharp
contrast. One was a thick-set and rather ruffianly looking fellow, not
too cleanly in either person or clothing, and, amongst other evidences
that at one time he had known the prize ring, possessing a badly broken
nose. His companion was dressed with that spruceness which belongs
to the successful East End Jew; he was cleanly shaven, of slight build,
and alert in manner and address.
Having ordered and paid for two whiskies and sodas, the Jew, raising
his glass, nodded to his companion and took a drink. The glitter of a
magnificent diamond which he wore seemed to attract the other's
attention almost hypnotically.
"Cheerio, Freddy!" said the thick-set man. "Any news?"
"Nothing much," returned the one addressed as Freddy, setting his glass
upon the table and selecting a cigarette from a packet which he carried
in his pocket.
"I'm not so sure," growled the other, watching him suspiciously.
"You've been lying low for a long time, and it's not like you to slack off
except when there's something big in sight."
"Hm!" said his companion, lighting his cigarette. "What do you mean
exactly?"
Jim Poland--for such was the big man's name--growled and spat
reflectively into a spittoon.
"I've had my eye on you, Freddy," he replied; "I've had my eye on
you!"
"Oh, have you?" murmured the other. "But tell me what you mean!"

Beneath his suave manner lay a threat, and, indeed, Freddy Cohen,
known to his associates as "Diamond Fred," was in many ways a
formidable personality. He had brought to his chosen profession of
crook a first-rate American training, together with all that mental
agility and cleverness which belong to his race, and was at once an
object of envy and admiration amongst the fraternity which keeps
Scotland Yard busy.
Jim Poland, physically a more dangerous character, was not in the same
class with him; but he was not without brains of a sort, and Cohen,
although smiling agreeably, waited with some anxiety for his reply.
"I mean," growled Poland, "that you're not wasting your time with Lala
Huang for nothing."
"Perhaps not," returned Cohen lightly. "She's a pretty girl; but what
business is it of yours?"
"None at all. I ain't interested in 'er good looks; neither are you."
Cohen shrugged and raised his glass again.
"Come on," growled Poland, leaning across the table. "I know, and I'm
in on it. D'ye hear me? I'm in on it. These are hard times, and we've got
to stick together."
"Oh," said Cohen, "that's the game, is it?"
"That's the game right enough. You won't go wrong if you bring me in,
even at fifty-fifty, because maybe I know things about old Huang that
you don't know."
The Jew's expression changed subtly, and beneath his drooping lids he
glanced aside at the speaker. Then:
"It's no promise," he said, "but what do
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