It was immediately opened by a young Chinaman in a white native dress. The room was quite a large one, well fitted up with comfortable American furniture. It looked what it actually was, a club-room. Several Chinamen, mostly in American dress, were sitting or standing in groups. One came forward looking questioningly at Harry. Lung said something, apparently vouching for him as a friend, and the man walked away. Nobody else spoke to them. Going up to a handsome buffet, Lung poured out tea for himself and Harry, helping him also to sweetmeats and Chinese cakes. "Is this just a business club?" asked Young King Brady. "Just that and nothing else," was the reply; "there are several clubs meeting down here. While the members are all part of one grand organization, these clubs are organized for different purposes, and a man may belong to one without belonging to another or knowing anything about the others. That's the way we work it." "Is your man here?" "Not yet. He is expected, however. I must hurry and get you placed." They now left the club-room, Ah Lung, opening the next door beyond with a latch-key. This ushered them into a narrow corridor lighted by colored red lanterns. From it opened several small alcoves before which fancy-colored curtains hung. Harry saw that they were intended for opium smokers, and that each would hold two persons. They were provided with soft couches instead of the usual Chinese wooden bunks. An attendant in white came forward. Ah Lung spoke to him in Chinese and gave him money. "I have engaged two of these rooms," he said. "You must take one now and pretend to smoke and go to sleep. Watch and listen for me, for I shall come into the next alcove with my man. I never smoke opium myself, but he does, and he always prefers to talk business over a pipe." And this programme was carried out. Ah Lung left Harry, who lost no time in pretending to go to sleep. The curtain was drawn before the alcove. Harry waited an hour and grew so drowsy that at last he actually did drop off, to be suddenly awakened by hearing somebody give a loud cough. As he opened his eyes he saw a hand draw his curtain shut. He was on the alert instantly, for he could hear two men entering the next alcove. "And now for business," one said. Harry recognized the voice of Ah Lung. "Wait till I get my pipe going," replied the second person. The voice and accent were peculiar. It seemed to Young King Brady that he recognized both. "Surely I have heard that voice before," he said to himself. "But where?" This was a question that as Harry lay listening he found himself unable to decide. The pipe filling was so quickly completed and the smell which arose so different from ordinary opium that Harry concluded the man must be merely smoking some sort of opium saturated tobacco. The talk then began. It was precisely what Ah Lung had hinted at, a transaction in cheap opium. The word smuggled was not used.