Hsiu Hsiu with me. Come on, sister, I want you to talk to any bad men I meet. We go to see Chang Li Ching, you understand?” I made faces. “One yell out of you, and—” I put my fingers around her collar and pressed them lightly.
She giggled, which spoiled the effect a little.
“To Chang,” I ordered, and, holding her by one shoulder, urged her toward the door.
We went down into the dark cellar, across it, found the other stairs, and started to climb them. Our progress was slow. The girl’s bound feet weren’t made for fast walking.
A dim light burned on the first floor, where we had to turn to go up to the second floor. We had just made the turn when footsteps sounded behind us.
I lifted the girl up two steps, out of the light, and crouched beside her, holding her still. Four Chinese in wrinkled street clothes came down the first-floor hall, passed our stairs without a glance, and started on.
Hsiu Hsiu opened her red flower of a mouth and let out a squeal that could have been heard over in Oakland.
I cursed, turned her loose, and started up the steps. The four Chinese came after me. On the landing ahead one of Chang’s big wrestlers appeared—a foot of thin steel in his paw. I looked back.
Hsiu Hsiu sat on the bottom step, her head over her shoulder, experimenting with different sorts of yells and screams, enjoyment all over her laughing doll’s face. One of the climbing yellow men was loosening an automatic.
My legs pushed me on up toward the man-eater at the head of the steps.