"
"Buchanan will be furious," said Benito. "They say he's an old beau who
wears a toupee and knee-breeches. All Washington that dares to do so
will be laughing at him, especially the ladies."
Benito returned from the office one foggy June evening with a copy of
The Bulletin that contained a speech by Broderick. It was dusk and Alice
had lighted the lamp to read the Washington dispatch as she always did
with eager interest, when there came a light, almost stealthy knock at
the door. Benito, rather startled, opened it. There stood a Chinese
youth of about 18, wrapped in a huge disguising cloak. He bowed low
several times, then held forth a letter addressed in brush-fashioned,
India-ink letters to "B. Windham Esquire."
Curiously he opened it and read:
"The hand of the 'avenger' has smitten. I have not long to live. Will
you, in your honorable kindness, protect my nephew, Po Lun? He will make
a good and faithful servant, requiting kindness with zeal. May the Lord
of Heaven bless you."
"WONG LEE."
Excitedly and with many gestures Po Lun described the killing of his
uncle by a Hip Yee "hatchetman." But even in his dying hour Wong Lee had
found means to protect a kinsman.
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