"'Forget them, O Munificent; forget them,' said Ah Moy, deeply
contrite. 'Carried away by excitement, your abject slave considered
but lightly what he then so foolishly said, and now so fervently
regrets--and--and--let's drop this powwow, Quong Lee. I have no time for
it! I tell you, man, I am in a hurry!'
"Now, Quong Lee, while wholly in Ah Moy's power, and quite well aware of
it, exacted from all of his countrymen a certain amount of deference,
and was loath that his visitor should prove an exception to this
gratifying rule. Ah Moy knew this, but the little farce was becoming
very irksome to him; it took up too much of his always valuable time,
and he intended to forego it in future. Quong Lee, thought he, was a
tiresome old goat who badly needed his whiskers trimmed and his horns
sawed off; and he, Ah Moy, was the man for the job.
"'I am indeed fortunate,' said Quong Lee, ignoring Ah Moy's concluding
remark, 'tremendously lucky, in fact, for I think I have in my
laboratory just what you desire. Yes, I am sure of it. I will get it
without further delay.' He took down a lighted lantern from the wall,
and lifting a trap door at the end of the room, plunged into the
darkness. From the opening nasty, suffocating smells arose, and Ah Moy
was driven out to the shop, where he impatiently awaited his learned
friend.
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