NINE

The three men backed towards the wall, surprise and alarm in their eyes. The uniformed officers following Whitbread parted to allow a shorter man to enter. He stepped through their ranks with an air of privilege. By a slight hunch of his shoulders, I perceived a certain irritation from Detective Whitbread.

The small man kept his eyes on the three scared Chinese men until he reached the table. Stopping, he took off his bowler hat and brought out a white handkerchief with which he wiped first his face and then his bald crown. He had a fringe of sparse salt-and-pepper hair, a brush of a mustache under his nose, and tiny deep-set eyes. There was an unhealthy grayish cast to his skin, and his face was mapped with wrinkles, yet he moved with a physical ease.

He sighed. “I am Officer Lewis of the Bureau of Immigration of the United States government. Your papers.” He held out a hand. “Papers, now.”

The three men suddenly understood. They dug in their suit coats and each brought out a carefully folded sheaf of papers. “I son of Wang,” announced the first, placing his packet in Lewis’s outstretched hand.

“I son of Chou.” “I son of Yang.” The others proffered their papers and Lewis spread them on the table, where he began perusing them.

“Chou,” he snapped. “I see you’re from Jiujiang. What’s the name of the mayor?”

“Mao Lin-chu,” the man responded.

Lewis stared at him. “You are well coached. We shall see exactly how well.” He turned to the uniformed officers. “Put them in the wagon.”

The policemen herded the men out the door but, before Officer Lewis and Detective Whitbread could follow them, I stepped forward. “Detective, what is going on here? Where are you taking those men?” I had worked with many immigrants, from many places, in my time at Hull House but I had never seen people treated like this before.

The small man turned and squinted at those of us in the back of the room. Before Whitbread could respond, Lewis pointed a finger in our direction. “Just a minute. Who is that woman? I want to see her papers.” He kept pointing rudely at Ida as he strode towards us.

Miss Howe stepped forward. “How dare you? This is Dr. Ida Kahn who has recently received a medical degree from the University of Michigan and she is my adopted daughter.” She loomed over Lewis before he could reach Ida, who continued to smile politely while tilting her head away from the onslaught.

“Is that so?”

“Lewis, mind your manners,” Detective Whitbread intervened. “This is Miss Howe and Miss Ida Kahn, they are accompanied by Mrs. Chapman and Mr. Fitzgibbons, who are well-known local citizens and can vouch for Miss…I mean Dr. Kahn. Ladies, Officer Lewis is here from the immigration authorities. He had a tip that these men entered the country illegally.”

“But why are you arresting those men, when they have papers?” I demanded. Miss Howe appeared to be simmering towards an outburst at my side. I put a calming hand on her arm.

“We are upholding the law of the land,” Lewis announced. He was a pompous little prig. “It’s the law of the Congress of the United States that forbids entry of Chinese laborers, in order to stem the tide of yellow peril that threatens to overwhelm the Western states. Recently, they’ve been trying to enter illegally through Canada into this area, and I’ve been sent here to stop them.”

“Yellow peril!” Miss Howe scoffed. “What rubbish. And, despite the Geary Act, scholars, merchant classes, and relatives of residents are allowed to enter. These men said they are sons come to join their fathers. That is allowed.”

“Hah! And have you heard of ‘paper sons’?” I noticed Whitbread and Fitz both rolled their eyes at this exclamation, but Lewis was just hitting his stride. “There’s a lucrative business in illegal documentation. Because your laws only allow a man to enter the country if he is sponsored by a close relative—a father or uncle—many men who want to get into the country arrange to be sponsored by someone already here who is not really a relative. They pay well for the privilege. They’re given information to memorize about the town or village, and the family. The young man pretends to be related. He stays working for the man who sponsored him for some months and then starts a business or gets a job of his own. In eighty-five percent of the cases, extended interrogation will force them to trip up. You’ll see, these ones will break.”

“Break!” I said, glancing at Whitbread. “How long do you keep them until they ‘trip up,’ as you say?”

“As long as it takes.” He pursed his lips.

Shocked at the idea that this little despot could keep the men for as long as he wanted, I was about to object when there was a commotion at the door. A large Chinese man in a long black silk gown and a square hat moved slowly into the room. Wide sleeves with beautiful embroidery hung down to cover his hands. He had a graying, thinning queue down his back and a mustache with ends trailing down to a long, sparse beard. His face was plump with round cheeks that nearly hid small black eyes beneath wiry eyebrows.

“Hip Lung,” Fitz said, stepping forward. “It’s good to see you.”

So, this was the famous Hip Lung, oldest of the Moy brothers who were so powerful in the city. He looked to be nearing sixty. I thought of his young bride in the quiet room scented with blossoms. What must her life be like?

Charlie Kee stepped out from behind Hip Lung and Lewis greeted him. “Charlie, where have you been? I’ve got some paper sons needing translations.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“He works for you?” I asked in disbelief. “But he was just helping some men with the police.”

“Charlie Kee acts as a translator in all sorts of situations,” Detective Whitbread told us.

“Well, his translations are pretty poor,” Miss Howe announced. “We caught him lying back at the police station.”

Hip Lung folded his hands carefully in front of him. Charlie Kee glanced at him and said, “Misunderstanding. All a misunderstanding. Hip Lung will make it right.”

Lewis looked around the room as if to be sure he didn’t miss anyone. “What about this woman?” he asked, pointing at Ida again. “What do you know about her?”

At this point, Hip Lung stepped forward and spoke to Ida in Chinese. The words rolled out over the heads of all of the Westerners except Miss Howe. He finished with a formal bow to the ladies. They responded in kind, bowing from the waist, eyes on the floor, as they spoke a stream of Chinese.

Charlie Kee interpreted in his own way. “Hip Lung says he is very honored to meet scholarly lady of many accomplishments. She is very fine lady.”

“Huh.” Lewis was unimpressed. “You’d better be right about that, Whitbread. The only Chinese women who get smuggled into the country are prostitutes. Everyone knows that.”

There was a gasp from several people, including me.

“That is quite enough,” Miss Howe began, but Detective Whitbread stopped the argument by taking Officer Lewis by the arm and forcing him down the length of the room to the door.

“Come on. You have your men. Go interrogate them.” He shoved the little man towards the door. Lewis exited unwillingly, looking back over his shoulder at us, but Whitbread closed the door firmly and strode back. “I apologize for his behavior, madam. The man is overly conscientious.”

“The man is a bigoted, petty tyrant!” Miss Howe responded.

“Will they really keep those men indefinitely?” I asked.

Whitbread grimaced. “He is within his rights. He is working under the provisions of the Exclusion Act of 1882, which restricts Chinese immigration to only those who are not laborers. It was extended and made even stricter by the Geary Act of 1892. Any Chinese who are now in the country legally must present a certificate of identity and answer any questions as to its authenticity. Practically speaking, he’ll ask repeatedly about their supposed home villages, families, and all of that. If they are in fact ‘paper sons’ he’ll probably prove it. However, that’s no reason to be insulting to Miss Kahn.”

“Dr. Kahn,” Miss Howe corrected him.

Ida was deep in conversation with Hip Lung during this exchange. Now the man turned to Fitz and spoke in English. “Has Dr. Stone been released?”

Fitz’s ruddy face turned even redder. “She has not, at the moment, but Hinky was contacting the lawyers. Cantwell should be at the courthouse now.”

Whitbread groaned.

“Hip Lung,” Miss Howe attacked, “it was your man who told the detective here that Mary Stone had an argument with Mr. Lo. It’s not true, but you paid the man to lie. I suggest you get him to withdraw his false testimony.”

Hip Lung’s eyes narrowed as he turned towards Miss Howe. Ida said something in Chinese, which made him pause. By her gestures I understood that Ida was introducing her adoptive mother. Hip Lung frowned. “There was a mistake. My wife has told me about it. The man in question will never speak against Miss Stone again.” He was a man used to being obeyed.

I was surprised to realize that, like Wong Chin Foo, his English was extremely fluent. This was in contrast to the English of Charlie Kee, despite the fact that he acted as an interpreter. I supposed it was necessary for an important businessman like Hip Lung to be able to communicate well, especially since he seemed to act as the chief contact between the Chinese and the rest of the city. I was impressed with his ability to speak English with an educated accent as he did.

Detective Whitbread responded. “If you are so convinced, now, that Dr. Stone did not cause the man’s death, how do you think it happened? There are other witnesses who saw the same thing, including his son here.”

The man behind the counter glanced at Hip Lung and quickly looked away again.

“Here, now, Whitey,” Fitz intervened. “Mr. Hip Lung is an upstanding citizen, as you well know. He’s known to the deputy mayor, the aldermen, and even judges. I’m sure he was only trying to do his duty as a community leader.”

“I’m aware of his connections and pull with local politicians,” Whitbread said. “That will not prevent me from questioning him in an attempt to find the truth of what happened.”

Before Fitz could try to placate the incorruptible detective, Hip Lung spoke up. “Herbalist Lo was a longtime member of our community but, lately, he had become distant. There was something very strange, something new, in his manner.” Hip Lung’s voice was deep and slightly hoarse. “Possibly he suffered some disease for which he was seeking a cure from your medicine. He had business with many more of those outside our community this past year. Your Western medical men. On the other hand, he also had visitors from China not known to us. Men whose backgrounds were misted over. For the most part, we know all our people and where they are from at home. But he entertained men we did not know. He had met some of them through Wong Chin Foo. That I do know. These men today,” he gestured towards the door, “they were not known to us.” I had the impression that men like the three who had been taken away might well be known to Hip Lung and his associates. I suspected that he would be fully capable of arranging for a “paper son” to get the help he needed, for a price. I wondered if the dead man had been starting a rival organization, and if Hip Lung had even been the one to tip the authorities to the presence of the three who had just been taken away.

Whitbread stared at the plump Chinese man with speculation, as if he shared my suspicions. “We will certainly look into whether Lo was involved with smuggling men illegally. You wouldn’t go in for that yourself, now, would you, Hip Lung?”

“Now, now,” Fitz interrupted. “Enough of that. You’ve heard the man has retracted his accusations about Dr. Stone. You’ll have to release her now and look elsewhere. There’s no need to be rude to Hip Lung.”

Hip Lung turned to leave, but stopped to bow and speak to Ida and Miss Howe and they responded in kind. Then he stopped beside Whitbread. “You would be wise to investigate Lo’s association with the Western doctors.” Having had his say, he continued towards the door.

Whitbread did not appreciate being instructed by a man he suspected of being involved in criminal activities. He moved restlessly, as if to shake off the influences. It was not until the bell jangled at the door, confirming the man’s exit, that he spoke. “He is right about one thing. With that statement withdrawn, we’ll have to release Dr. Stone.” Miss Howe and Ida smiled at him. “But, let me be very clear, she is not to leave the city until all of this is straightened out.”