A MIDNIGHT CONFERENCE
TWO men were seated in the living room of an elegantly furnished apartment. One, the host, was attired in evening clothes. He was a man about fifty years of age.
His gray hair gave him a firm dignity. His eyes, mild and kindly, showed passivity, but with it, human understanding.
The visitor, plainly dressed, was about fifteen years younger. He had an air of assurance, and his chin portrayed the man of action. But now he possessed a patient attitude that seemed at odds with his natural inclinations.
It was he who was speaking; and he was choosing his words as he uttered them.
“I have come to you, Mr. Darley,” he said, “because you are a man who keeps confidence. You may be surprised by my visit. You may wonder what it is about. But you will quickly understand.
“I told you that my work concerned the Civilian Committee of San Francisco, of which you are the head; but I must explain that it is also of a nature that will make it a private matter between you and myself.”
Joseph Darley nodded slowly. He knew that this was an important meeting. He had received a telephone call that afternoon, from this man, who called himself Cleve Branch. Darley had arranged the appointment for midnight.
As chairman of the Civilian Committee, Darley held a most important executive position, and special meetings of this type were not foreign to his work. Therefore, he was definite in his reply.
“Whatever your purpose,” he said, “you can rely fully upon my keeping it confidential, Mr. Branch. I understand that you seek my cooperation in a certain enterprise. Whether or not I can give that cooperation, you have my absolute promise that whatever you may tell me shall reach no other person.”
“Very well,” said Branch. “My work, Mr. Darley, is in behalf of the Bureau of Investigation, Department of Justice of the United States government.
Darley leaned forward in his chair. He realized now the prime importance of this visit. On former occasions, Darley had supplied valuable data to the government. Now, he understood, his services were to be sought.
“I have come to San Francisco,” continued Branch, “to make a thorough investigation of the activities of the Wu-Fan — and to learn more about its organizer, the Chinaman, Ling Soo.”
DARLEY leaned back in his chair. He considered the ceiling thoughtfully. When he spoke, it was plain that his mind was reverting to facts which he knew well, and was seeking to give in detail.
“Do you know Ling Soo?” inquired Branch.
“Yes,” said Darley. “I do. More than that; I know him well. He is a man with a complex brain. A Chinese idealist; and being such, he is difficult for us to understand.”
“What of the Wu-Fan?” asked Branch.
“Before I answer that question,” replied Darley, with a thoughtful smile, “I should like to know what impression you have already formed of the Wu-Fan. I ask that, because you are probably acquainted with its activities outside of San Francisco.
“In other words, you may have seen something of the effects; while I believe myself to be acquainted with the cause. Shall we work back from effect to cause? Or from cause to effect?”
“I can tell you what I know,” said Branch. “That is not difficult. When we first encountered the organization, we supposed it to be an offshoot of some Chinese tong. But we soon discovered that it was a different proposition.
“Our agents began to report that in virtually every city where Chinese lived, there were men of that race who appeared to be identified with the order. They are chiefly Chinese of the more enterprising class — restaurant owners rather than laundrymen.
“All wear an emblem like this” — from his pocket, Branch drew a white button that bore a golden dragon head — “and these are of different colors. We have seen many variations; and we have learned that there are certain rovers in the outfit — Chinese who move from one city to another.
“We have observed, also, that payments have been made by stationary members to the travelers. Questioning of members has produced only vague answers. There’s no one in the world who can tell you less than a Chinaman when he doesn’t feel like being questioned.
“But we have learned, from isolated cases, that some of these Chinamen have a pretty big idea of their importance. But more than that” — Branch extended his forefinger as he spoke — “it appears that there are a few Americans tied up with the outfit. They might speak — if we could locate them. But, though we hear of them, we never see them.”
“Americans,” said Darley thoughtfully. “Yes, Ling Soo knows a number of Americans; but I did not know that they were actively interested in his picturesque plans.”
“One was,” declared Branch shortly, “but he isn’t any more. That’s the reason why I am here.”
“You knew one?”
“I knew of him. He knew of me. He was to communicate with me. I was waiting. But he happened to die very suddenly.”
“How?”
“He was murdered. Not so many nights ago. Stabbed to death on the Mountain Limited, going East.”
“You mean the man Laird?” questioned Darley, in a surprised voice. “The man who was found dying on the observation platform?”
“THAT’S the one,” declared Branch. “If you read the newspaper reports, you may have learned that Laird wrote a letter shortly before he was killed. I rather suspect that the letter was addressed to me.”
“Remarkable!” exclaimed Darley. “This is somewhat amazing to me. You are sure that his death was caused by the Wu-Fan?”
“Not at all,” replied Branch. “I believe that his death was connected with the Wu-Fan; but how, I cannot tell.”
“Ah,” said Darley, nodding. “That is an important point. It brings up other elements. I may be able to offer a possible solution. Nevertheless, this theory comes as a surprise to me. Tell me, have you seen any other cases that resemble that of Laird?”
“No,” said Branch.
“You know nothing more about the Wu-Fan?”
“Nothing of importance.”
“Then,” said Darley, tapping the arm of his chair, “it is time that I told you what I know. You have seen only the confusing angles of the Wu-Fan situation.
“If you understand the Chinese nature, you will know that every individual has a habit of interpreting all important matters in his own way. That is one reason why centralized government has never been highly effective in China. It is the reason why a clear idea of the Wu-Fan and its purposes can be gained only by a study of Ling Soo himself.”
“And you know Ling Soo?”
“I do. The Wu-Fan, Mr. Branch, is primarily a San Francisco problem. It began here; it took hold here; and the Civilian Committee looked into it. I made the acquaintance of Ling Soo himself.”
“What did you find out about him?”
“I found him to be a cultured Chinese gentleman, an Oriental idealist, whose plans are as astounding as they are absurd.
“The Wu-Fan, Branch, is a curious paradox. It is both an imaginative dream of useless ceremony, and at the same time a gigantic scheme to make Ling Soo’s own race the dominating power in America!”
“You mean that Ling Soo thinks he can—”
“I mean that Ling Soo prides himself as being the emperor of a colossal domain that takes in all the United States; that when he says the word, his faithful followers will rule all! But at the same time, he is too wise to ever say the word.”
“But these men who work for him—”
“Ah! They are believers. He has divided the whole of this country into imaginary provinces. He has appointed viceroys and prefects. From them he collects tribute. In true Chinese fashion, he sells his great offices to the highest bidders.”
“Then there is danger that Chinese outbursts may occur throughout the country?”
“A danger?” Darley laughed. “Theoretically, yes. Practically, no. Ling Soo’s empire is a dream of the future.
“He estimates that the Chinese population is increasing more rapidly in America than the white. Today, the Chinese occupy what may be termed a subservient position, because they are such a small minority. But in years to come, they will increase until they constitute a powerful minority.
“Ling Soo foresees that, at that time, they will encounter persecution. They will be restrained by laws directed against them.
“Then — and then only — will the ruler of the invisible empire of these Chinese give the word. His viceroys will call upon their subjects to arise.
“The whole scheme of Ling Soo’s well-planned government will — according to his beliefs — go into effect. It will replace the existing government. Quickly and speedily.”
“The man must be crazy,” declared Branch. “It will take hundreds of years—”
“The Chinese think in terms of centuries — not in terms of years.”
“But the man’s schemes are treasonable!”
“If taken seriously, yes. But Ling Soo is too cagy for that. His organization cannot be considered as more than a harmless order with scattered members.
“On the surface, it is so vague and theoretical that to attack it would mean ridicule. Ling Soo is accumulating wealth, which he intends to pass to his successor, that the great cause may go on.
“Those traveling representatives of his are like the collectors whom the ancient Chinese emperors used to send into their provinces to gather funds for the support of the imperial Peking government.
“But in actual practice, these disciples of Ling Soo are the most law-abiding of all Chinese in America. As a result, our Civilian Committee organization felt that they needed our friendship rather than our opposition.”
“Because they behaved themselves?”
“Yes; and because they have incurred the enmity of lawless Chinese. The members of the Wu-Fan; peaceful and idealistic, feel that the tongs, with their wranglings, are detrimental to the progress of the great cause. They try to keep clear of the secret societies known as the tongs.
“In turn, the tongs see loss of power threatening them. So they are hostile, and the only thing that has prevented an outburst has been the fact that the Wu-Fan is large enough in San Francisco to protect itself if openly attacked.
“So, when you speak of death from the Wu-Fan, I know that you are mistaken. There have been deaths because of the Wu-Fan, but the Wu-Fan itself is free from blame.”
“I’m getting the point of it now,” said Branch. “This fellow Laird, who was undoubtedly doing some work for the Wu-Fan, may have crossed some tong leaders.”
“Exactly,” declared Darley. “If I had known more about the traveling activities of the Wu-Fan, I would have informed the government long ago — just as I have done in certain other matters.
“But I should state emphatically that if the Wu-Fan can be considered as a menace, all that lies in the distant future, and to oppose it at the present would be making great oaks out of newly planted acorns.”
“WELL, Mr. Darley,” said the Bureau of Investigation agent, “you’ve given me a real slant on this affair. You seem to know the inside workings; and from what you say, the Wu-Fan won’t cause us any worry.
“However, I’m here for one important purpose — to get a report at first hand. I want to see how the Wu-Fan works. I want to know all I can about Ling Soo. I want to get the real lowdown on Stephen Laird’s death.
“That’s a State affair — not a government proposition — unless it’s directly traceable to a widely working organization. I can use a complete report from your committee. But I won’t need it until after I’ve made my own.
“That’s what I’m out to get now — facts on the Wu-Fan. I want to know the best way to go at it. You’ve done your bit, but you can probably suggest the way for me to proceed.”
“By seeing Ling Soo,” responded Darley. “That takes you right to the source. He is quite willing to talk. Why not see him?”
“In what capacity?”
“As my friend — he never questions them. I have always taken members of the Civilian Committee with me when I have visited Ling Soo. Your name will mean nothing to him. In fact, I do not even have to introduce you, other than as an associate from my office.
“The membership of our committee undergoes constant changes as the members — outside of executives like myself — serve as volunteers without fee. We investigate affairs of the community and report them to the authorities if we deem it necessary.”
“And you have never reported the Wu-Fan?”
“Never — outside of stating that such an order happened to be in existence.”
“Then you have sanctioned it?”
“Practically. We have not censored it.”
Cleve Branch arose and walked in short paces, hands in pockets. He swung toward Joseph Darley and extended his hand.
“Thanks, Mr. Darley,” he said. “I have come to the right man. I’m leaving now — and when you’re ready — soon — I’ll count on you taking me to see this chap Ling Soo.”
“That will be tomorrow,” responded Darley, with an agreeable smile.
“Great!” said Branch. “I’ll phone you at your office.”
With that declaration, the government operative made his departure. Joseph Darley was alone, smiling to himself, as he recalled the interview. How vague, he thought, were the idea’s of those who saw things from the outside.
If the visit were to be made tomorrow, Darley realized, it must be planned at once. For the Chinese liked to arrange their affairs well in advance.
So Joseph Darley sat down at the telephone table in his apartment and called the Chinaman, Ling Soo, to tell him that he could expect visitors on the morrow.