TWENTY-FOUR

Ida asked me to accompany her to visit Hip Lung’s wife. As we left, Wong Chin Foo bowed us out at the top of the stairs. He seemed quite pleased with the results of the visit. I wondered a little about Whitbread’s final questions. Was it possible that Wong was behind the attack on Charlotte? He claimed he was not involved, but could the attack be part of some struggle between Wong and Hip Lung, as Whitbread seemed to suggest? I had no way to tell.

Ida informed me of Mary’s current plight while we walked. It was not good. Dr. Erickson continued to storm around the hospital demanding that his daughter be moved home, and that Mary be arrested for the assault on her. Whitbread had refused. It gave me some hope that he had not ruled out the doctor himself as a suspect. Meanwhile, the detective intended to detain Mary as a precaution but a compromise had been reached. Mary was staying at the hospital in a room next to Charlotte’s, with a police guard in the hall. She was allowed into the presence of the unconscious woman only in the company of other hospital staff. While this appeased Dr. Erickson to some extent, as he convinced himself this meant she was under house arrest, the hospital staff were grateful for Mary’s assistance in caring for the gravely ill young woman.

Ida told me there was very little hope now that Charlotte would recover. While her skull was not fractured there had been damage to her brain. It was impossible to know the extent of that damage but the fact that she had not recovered consciousness was not good. Her other injuries were also quite severe and it was necessary to closely monitor her movement to prevent further damage. The fact was, they did not expect her to live out the week.

“And then what will happen?” I wondered out loud. “Will Whitbread have to arrest Mary to placate her father?”

“That is what I fear,” Ida told me. “And how can my mother and I abandon her here and return to China if that is the case?”

We reached the doorstep of Hip Lung’s household. Ida knocked and exchanged words with a little boy who led us upstairs to Hip Lung’s wife and her sister-in-law.

The scene was much calmer than the previous day. Once again the two women sat quietly in the high-ceilinged room. I still remembered the smell of blood that had assaulted my senses when we had hurried to the bedroom where Mary tended Charlotte the night before. Today all was serene, with a scent of jasmine in the air.

The women conversed with Ida. The worry they expressed at the beginning soon gave way to smiles as Ida told them the outcome. “They asked about the police raid on Wong Chin Foo’s association,” she told me. I nodded. It seemed apparent that they knew about it, which made me more sure than ever that they were the ones who had warned Wong. Had he found dynamite before Whitbread’s arrival? If so, what had he done with it? It was unlikely the Moy ladies or even Ida would confide in me, knowing my connection to the police. It seemed to me that none of them had any intention of harming Viceroy Li. They were more intent on their own rivalries. I was surprised the women had dared to go against the wishes of their husbands, even if they had done so secretly.

After a discussion about Charlotte and Mary, the conversation moved to more domestic topics. The women ordered their little maid to bring in the children for us to admire. Ida told me there was an infant and a toddler, one belonging to each of the wives. While we waited, Charlie Kee suddenly appeared and spoke to the women.

Ida translated for me. “It seems the husbands have heard of our visit to the ladies. Hip Lung has sent Mr. Kee to bring us to talk to him. He is particularly anxious to talk to you.”

“Me? I can’t imagine why.” Somehow the thought of facing the man without Whitbread made me uneasy—especially since I suspected his plot against Wong Chin Foo. I remembered the dark blood stain on the ground at the doorstep. What if it was Hip Lung and his associates who were behind the attack on Miss Erickson? “I don’t think I should talk to Mr. Hip Lung without Detective Whitbread,” I told her.

“I don’t think you have a choice. Hip Lung is a very powerful man. If he wants to see you he will find a way to force you to come to him. I don’t believe he intends you any harm. I will come with you.”

“But who is he to demand anything from me?” I asked. “How very rude! Who does he think he is?”

“He is a very powerful man. As for rudeness, it would be considered a great insult to refuse his request. I know it is not the custom here for a man to be so demanding of a woman, but I’m afraid Hip Lung is acting in a way that is more in accord with Chinese customs. Please, won’t you come along to meet with him? I will stay with you.”

I glanced at the Moy ladies. “Isn’t it rude to break off our visit so abruptly?”

“On the contrary, they would not want to disobey their husbands.” And yet it seemed they had foiled a plot against Wong Chin Foo, possibly laid by their husbands.

“All right.” I was not happy but there seemed no help for it. We had barely time for a glance at the children who were brought in, dressed up in embroidered silk outfits, before we followed Charlie Kee down the stairs. He led us out to busy Clark Street and only half a block down to the Hip Lung Yee Kee Company. Through the glass door we found a very large dry goods store stacked floor to ceiling with all sorts of items. At the front of the store there were elaborately carved screens of dark wood, and silken banners hung from the ceiling. Many Chinese men congregated at the back of the store, but I only had a glimpse of them as we were led through the shelves to a stairway up to the second story.

Upstairs, there was a huge open area set up with chairs and tables for dining. It was not a restaurant, however, but a private dining area used for Moy family association gatherings. Ida explained this to me quietly as we walked across a broad expanse to a corner where Hip Lung sat behind a table littered with paper. Two younger men were writing notes for him. Standing in front of him, like a pupil explaining himself to the principal, was Mr. Fitzgibbons.

Fitz looked relieved to see me. “Mrs. Chapman, thank you for coming. Hip Lung heard you were visiting his wife and it seemed you were just the person to consult.” He looked anxiously across at Hip Lung, who was ignoring us while he continued the instructions to his clerks. Finally, he turned his attention to us. He did not offer us seats, nor did he rise himself. He wore the same black boxy hat and the wide-sleeved Chinese jacket he had worn at the police station.

He regarded us with a frown. “You are the woman who would help with the invitations? Why do so many refuse? What is the matter?” he demanded.

Fitz tut-tutted. “Now there, I just asked Mrs. Chapman to help with the guest list. She is not responsible for the responses,” he protested.

“Not responsible? Then who is responsible?” Hip Lung snapped. “When I came here many years ago, I found the people of Chicago to be not against our kind. They never asked me whether or not I ate rats and snakes. They seemed to believe that we also had souls to save, and these souls were worth saving. The Chicagoans found us peculiar people to be sure, but they liked to mix with us.” He walked by me and out to where Charlie Kee stood, before he turned back again. “Then there was the Geary Act and all the attempts to humiliate us during the World’s Fair.” There was a fierce frown on his face. “You know it was Chinese merchants who put up the money to build the Chinese Village at the Exposition. The Ching government refused to contribute.”

“That’s right and it was a wonder,” Fitz said, attempting to soothe him, but it didn’t work.

“That did not prevent your officials from treating us like animals.”

“There was a fear—an unfounded fear, really, from other parts of the country that scores of Chinese would be smuggled into the Fair and then disappear in the crowds.”

“So they came to photograph us all and to make us all afraid!” A simmering rage was bubbling to the surface in Hip Lung. “Are we not residents here? Do we not pay taxes as property holders? We are not law breakers, yet you wanted to put all our pictures in a rogues’ gallery like criminals. Does this show the advancement that this nation has attained? The ridiculousness of the provisions should have killed the Geary bill.”

“Yes, yes. They did stop the photographing and the village was a big success,” Fitz protested.

“These insults were not enough? Now, when the highest official of the sovereign nation of China visits, the important people of this city spurn him? Even when we agree to bear all of the costs, even then, these people refuse to attend? How dare they?”

“Let me explain,” Fitz interrupted. “Mrs. Chapman, I’ve tried to tell Hip Lung that the summer is a time when many people leave the city on vacation. The mayor and most of the aldermen are out of town.” He cocked an eye at the fuming Hip Lung, who was pacing now. “So when we sent out the first round of invitations there were many refusals.”

“Not all these people are gone from the city. They flee with the arrival of the invitation!” Hip Lung shouted.

“Yes, well, I fear news of the attack on Miss Erickson did not help.” Fitz gave me a pleading look.

Hip Lung stalked over to the papers on the table and pounded a fist on them. “There is no one. No one of any importance at all will come.”

“There are the Chinese merchants,” Fitz told him.

“It is an insult! The viceroy comes and only the Chinese attend? It is an insult.”

Fitz turned back to me. “I tried to reach Miss Addams at Hull House, as you suggested, but there has been no reply.”

“The plans are made. There are seats for three hundred. But no one will come,” Hip Lung shouted.

“It will be a wonderful attraction with the parade and fireworks,” Ida suggested. “Surely many people will want to see that.”

“No one of importance!”

“Mrs. Chapman, please. Can you help?” Fitz looked quite desperate. It was true that many more well-to-do families left the city in August to go to Michigan or Wisconsin but, sadly, I believed Hip Lung was correct in assuming it was a prejudice against the Chinese as a race that had caused so many negative responses.

“I’m afraid you are right that some people would be alarmed enough by the attack on Miss Erickson to refuse an invitation,” I said.

“There will be no attacks!” Hip Lung shouted. “No attacks. I will not allow it.”

Fitz looked uneasy. “Please, Mrs. Chapman. If only we could get a few prominent people to agree to attend. We could announce that to the newspapers and others would be encouraged to come. Don’t you agree? There are politicians and aldermen that I can convince to attend, but without some of the leaders of the city it will never be a success. You can see how important it is to Hip Lung and his community.”

I felt sorry for Fitz, left by his bosses to deal with this mess, and I sensed a very deep resentment from Hip Lung over such an insult. I thought about the celebration the Chinese merchants were so eager to host. “Actually, Mr. Hip Lung, I believe it is the very hasty nature of the plans that is the problem. If it were not next week and people had time to plan to attend I think they would want to do so. Why, imagine how thrilling it will be, not just for the people of prominence, but for their families. I’m sure they’d want their children to attend the parade and fireworks. It’s only that it’s so soon, they haven’t thought of it.”

Hip Lung walked behind the table, lifted handfuls of papers and let them drop back. “They refuse,” he told me.

“Yes, I see.” I walked over and read several of the messages. They appeared curt to the point of rudeness. Seeing the names of people from Prairie Avenue mansions, I thought of my friends the Glessners, and of Louise DeKoven Bowen, a good friend to Hull House. I thought of people at the university—President Harper, with his brood of children, and Dean Marion Talbot, whose connections to the women’s clubs of the city had helped to build the women’s dormitories. For people so often soliciting money from wealthy people, here was an opportunity to reward them with an entertainment.

“Mr. Hip Lung, I am sure there are many people who would want to attend. If you will trust us to arrange it, I believe Mr. Fitzgibbons and I can help.”

Hip Lung drew himself up, looking not at all convinced, but he spoke a few words to his clerks and soon Fitz and I had our hands full of beautifully printed invitations. We gathered them up and bid him goodbye.

As we retreated to Clark Street Fitz kept thanking me. I told him to delay his thanks until we had acceptances in hand.

Handing Ida a stack of invitations to distribute among her missionary friends, we parted with plans to meet the next day to review our progress. I headed for a train back down to Hyde Park, intending to solicit acceptances promptly. It was then that I remembered my promise to Stephen to formally accept the position from Dean Talbot. So I decided to complete two chores with one visit. I couldn’t avoid it any longer.