The Romance of Elaine | Page 9

there is no test, none?" he asked.
"There is one that is brand new," replied Kennedy slowly. "It is the new
starch-grain test just discovered by Professor Reichert, of the
University of Pennsylvania. The peculiarities of the starch grains of
various plants are quite as great as those of the blood crystals, which,
you will recall, Walter, we used once.
"The starch grains of the poison have remained in the wound. I have
recovered them from the dead man's blood and have studied them
microscopically. They can be definitely recognized. This is plainly a
case of aconite poisoning--probably suggested to the Oriental mind by
the poison arrows of the Ainus of Northern Japan."
Dr. Leslie and I both looked through the microscope, comparing the
starch grains which Kennedy had discovered with those of scores of
micro-photographs which lay scattered over the table.
"There are several treatments for aconite poisoning," ruminated
Kennedy. "I would say that one of the latest and best is digitalin given
hypodermically." He took down a bottle of digitalin from a cabinet,
adding, "only it was too late in this case."

. . . . . . .
Just what the relations were between Long Sin and the Chong Wah
Tong I have never been able to determine exactly. But one thing was
certain: Long Sin on his arrival in New York had offended the Tong
and now that his master, Wu Fang, was here the offence was even
greater, for the criminal society brooked no rival.
In the dark recesses of a poorly furnished cellar, serving as the Tong
headquarters, the new leader and several of his most trusted followers
were now plotting revenge. Long Sin, they believed, was responsible
for the murder, and, with truly Oriental guile, they had obtained a hold
over Wu Fang's secretary.
Their plan decided on, the Chinamen left the headquarters and made
their way separately up-town. They rejoined one another in the shelter
of a rather poor house, before which was a board fence, in the vicinity
of a fashionable apartment house. A moment's conference followed,
and then the secretary glided away.
. . . . . . .
Wu had taken another apartment up-town in one of the large apartment
houses near a parkway; for he was far too subtle to operate from his
real headquarters back of the squalid exterior of Chinatown.
There Long Sin was now engaged in making all possible provisions for
the safety of his master. Any one who had been walking along the
boulevard and had happened to glance up at the roof of the tall
apartment building might have seen Long Sin's figure silhouetted
against the sky on the top of the mansard roof near a flagpole.
He had just finished fastening to the flagpole a stout rope which
stretched taut across an areaway some twenty or thirty feet wide to the
next building, where it was fastened to a chimney. Again and again he
tested it, and finally with a nod of satisfaction descended from the roof
and went to the apartment of Wu.

There, alone, he paused for a few minutes to gaze in wonder at the
cryptic ring which had been the net result so far of his efforts to find the
millions which Bennett, as the Clutching Hand, had hidden. He wore it,
strangely enough, over his index finger, and as he examined it he shook
his head in doubt.
Neither he nor his master had yet been able to fathom the significance
of the ring.
Long Sin thought that he was unobserved. But outside, looking through
the keyhole, was Wu's secretary, who had stolen in on the mission
which had been set for him at the Tong headquarters.
Long Sin went over to a desk and opened a secret box in which Wu had
placed several packages of money with which to bribe those whom he
wished to get into his power. It was Long Sin's mission to carry out this
scheme, so he packed the money into a bag, drew his coat more closely
about him and left the room.
No sooner had he gone than the secretary hurried into the room, paused
a moment to make sure that Long Sin was not coming back, then
hurried over to a closet near-by.
From a secret hiding-place he drew out a small bow and arrow. He sat
down at a table and hastily wrote a few Chinese characters on a piece
of paper, rolling up the note into a thin quill which he inserted into a
prepared place in the arrow.
Then he raised the window and deftly shot the arrow out.
Down the street, back of the board fence, where the final conference
has taken place, was a rather sleepy-looking Chinaman, taking an
occasional puff at a cigarette doped