ded the boys that the
Portuguese colony of Macao was only half an afternoon's boat trip south
of Hong Kong.

By and large, Rick decided, Canton Charlie's customers were as tough a
looking bunch of pirates as he had ever seen. They applauded noisily by
banging glasses on the table as a disreputable lot of musicians appeared
and began to make the night hideous with what seemed to be a Chinese
version of a Strauss waltz. By this time, the room was so blue with
cigar and cigarette smoke and so noisy with coarse chatter in a
half-dozen tongues that it was hard to see or hear one's neighbor.

Again Rick wondered. How had Chahda ever heard of this place? He sipped
on his third coke and leaned over toward Scotty and Zircon. "Wonder
what's keeping Canton Charlie?"

Zircon shrugged expressively. "Can't do a thing but wait, Rick."

Fortunately, the wait was not much longer. A Chinese shuffled past and
dropped a folded note on the table. Before they could question him, he
had made his way among the tables and was gone.

Zircon picked up the note, glanced through it, and handed it to Scotty.
Rick read over his friend's shoulder. The note was scrawled in pencil,
as though written in haste.

"_To find the one you want, go to the end of the Street of the Three
Blind Fishermen. Go to the junk with the purple sails._"

"Let's get started," Rick said. He rose to his feet. Zircon tossed some
money on the table. The three of them made their way through the noisy
mob of rough-necks and out the door. Rick breathed deeply when they were
out in the narrow street again.

"Even with the garlic, this air smells better than what we left inside,"
Scotty said. "Why do you think Canton Charlie didn't deliver the message
himself?"

"Maybe he's not mixed up in it," Rick suggested. "Maybe he just had
orders to let someone know when we showed up."

"We'll soon know," Zircon predicted.

As the three rickshaw coolies materialized from the darkness where they
had been waiting, the Americans climbed in. Zircon asked, "You know
street called Three Blind Fishermen?"

One of the rickshaw boys nodded. "Not far. We go?"

"Yes."

The rickshaws lurched forward.

* * * * *

Inside the Golden Mouse, Canton Charlie started for the table where the
three had been waiting. He stopped short as he saw they were no longer
there, turned on his heel, and hurried into an inner room. He spoke
quick words to a slim Chinese-Portu