There are several members of the New York police force who think they know their Chinatown; there are several slum workers who think they do; there are many ugly guides, real guides, who think they do, but Beefy Saul, ex-newspaper man, ex-United States Chinese immigration inspector, and finally of the Secret Service, really does. This is because Beefy Saul knows not only the bad, but the good Chinamen; because he knows not only the ins and outs of Chinatown, but the ins and outs of New York; because he knows not only the wiles and weaknesses of Chinamen, the wiles and weaknesses of ugly souled guides (and of slum workers), but best of all, because he knows the several members of the New York police department who think they know their Chinatown. But like men who know less, Beefy Saul enjoys his sleep and naturally objects to being roused at three o'clock in the morning, even though in the east the silver is showing through the black, as Donaldson pointed out, like the eyes of a certain lady when she smiles (as Donaldson did not point out). Beefy came down in answer to the insistent bell which connected with his modest flat--it ought to be called a suite, for the lower hall boasted only six speaking tubes--and he swore like a pirate as he came. Finally the broad shoulders, which gave him his name, filled the door frame. "I don't give a tinker's dam who you are," he growled before he had made out the features before him, "it's a blasted outrage! Hello, Don, what in thunder brings you out at this time of night? You look white, man, what's the trouble?" Saul hitched up his trousers, his round sleepy face that of a good-natured farmer. "I want you to do me a favor if you will, Beefy. I know it 's a darned shame to get you out at this hour." "Tut, tut, man. If a friend can't get up for another friend, he ain't much of a friend. Tell your troubles." "I 'm looking for a man, Beefy, who 's down there somewhere among your Chinks." "Hitting the pipe?" "I 'm afraid so." "Have n't any address I suppose--don't know his favorite joint?" "I don't know a thing about him except that he has been down there before--that he lit out again a little over an hour ago, half mad--and that I must find him." "An hour ago, eh? That helps, some. There 's only a few of 'em open to the public at that time. But say, is there any special hurry? He's had time to get his dope by now. I 've got some work there in the morning." "There's a girl waiting for him, Beefy, a girl who is paying big for every hour he's gone." "So? Well, m' boy, guess we 'll have to get him then. I 'll be down in ten minutes. Make yourself at home on the doorstep."