A downtown train took me to the office to write a "beat," for the
Star always made a special feature of the picturesque in Chinatown
news. Kennedy went uptown.
Except for a few moments in the morning, I did not see Kennedy
again until the following afternoon, for the tong war proved to be
such an interesting feature that I had to help lay out and direct
the assignments covering its various details.
I managed to get away again as soon as possible, however, for I
knew that it would not be long before some one else in trouble
would commandeer Kennedy to untangle a mystery, and I wanted to be
on the spot when it started.
Sure enough, it turned out that I was right. Seated with him in
our living room, when I came in from my hasty journey uptown in
the subway, was a man, tall, thick-set, with a crop of closely
curling dark hair, a sharp, pointed nose, ferret eyes, and a
reddish moustache, curled at the ends. I had no difficulty in
deciding what he was, if not who he was. He was the typical
detective who, for the very reason that he looked the part,
destroyed much of his own usefulness.
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