Free A Cool Million by Nathanael West Page A

served sow belly with grits and bourbon. In Mary Judkins ’
rooms he received, if he so desired, fried squirrel and corn liquor. In the
suite occupied by Patricia Van Riis, lobster and champagne wine were the rule.
The patrons of Powder River Rose usually ordered mountain oysters and washed
them down with forty-rod. And so on down the list: while with Dolores O’Riely , tortillas and prune brandy from the Imperial
Valley; while with Princess Roan Fawn, baked dog and firewater; while with
Betty Prail , fishchowder and Jamaica rum. Finally, those who sought the favors of the “Modern Girl,”
Miss Cobina Wiggs , were
regaled with tomato and lettuce sandwiches and gin.

 
19
     
    The enormous Chinaman with the
uplifted knife did not bring it down, because he had been struck by a sudden
thought. While he debated the pros and cons of his idea over in his mind, the
unsuspecting youth picked up the note Betty had thrown at him.
    “Dear Mr. Pitkin—” he read. “I am
held captive. Please save me. Your grateful friend, Elizabeth
Frail.”
    When our hero had thoroughly
digested the contents of the little missive, he turned to look for a policeman.
It was this that made the Chinaman decide on a course
of action. He dropped the knife, and with a skillful oriental trick that took
our hero entirely by surprise pinned Lem’s arms in
such a way as to render him helpless.
    He then whistled through his nose in
coolie fashion. In obedience to this signal several more of Wu Fong’s followers
came running to his assistance. Although Lem struggled valiantly, he was overpowered and forced to enter the laundry.
    Lem’s captors dragged him into the presence of the sinister Wu Fong, who rubbed his
hands gleefully as he inspected the poor lad.
    “You have done well, Chin Lao Tse ,” he said, praising the man who had captured Lem .
    “I demand to be set free!” expostulated our hero. “You have no right to keep me here.”
    But the crafty oriental ignored his
protests and smiled inscrutably. He could well use a nice-looking American boy.
That very night, he expected a visit from the Maharajah of Kanurani ,
whose tastes were notorious. Wu Fong congratulated himself; the gods were indeed
good.
    “Prepare him,” said he in Chinese.
    The poor lad was taken to a room
that had been fitted out like a ship’s cabin. The walls were paneled in teak,
and there were sextants, compasses and other such gear in profusion. His
captors then forced him to don a tight-fitting sailor suit. After warning him
in no uncertain terms not to try to escape, they left him to his own devices.
    Lem sat on
the edge of a bunk that was built into one corner of the room with his head
buried in his hands. He wondered what new ordeal fate had in store for him, but
being unable to guess he thought of other things.
    Would he lose his job if he failed
to report to Mr. Hainey ? Probably, yes. Where was his
dear mother? Probably in the poorhouse, or begging from door
to door, if she were not dead. Where was Mr. Whipple? Dead and buried in
Potter’s Field more than likely. And how could he get a message to Miss Prail ?
    Lem was
still trying to solve this last problem when Chin Lao Tse ,
the man who had captured him, entered the room, carrying a savage-looking
automatic in his hand.
    “Listen, boy,” he said menacingly, “see
this gat? Well, if you don’t behave I’ll drill you clean.”
    Chin then proceeded to secrete
himself in a closet. Before closing the door, he showed Lem that he intended to watch his every move through the keyhole.
    The poor lad racked his brains, but
could not imagine what was wanted of him. He was soon to find out, however.
    There was a knock on the door and Wu
Fong entered followed by a little dark man whose hands were covered with
jewels. It was the Maharajah of Kanurani .
    “My, wath a pithy thailer boy,” lisped the Indian prince with
unfeigned delight.
    “I’m extremely happy that he finds
favor in your august eyes, excellency ,”
said