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United States District Court we met a man named Harry Childs coming out. Childs was a lawyer out there, somewhat shady I imagine, but useful to my father, who traveled much in the shade himself—I make no secret of it. Childs carried a few law books under his arm as I recall, and he looked warm and depressed and rather sullen.
“ ‘Well, Harry,’ my father said, ‘how did your case come out?’
“ ‘Lost it, of course,’ said Childs. ‘That man Smith has it in for me. Oh, well—it’s all in the day’s work. But I’m sorry for poor Chang See. Shipped back to China—they’ll put him on the Nile tonight. It’s his death sentence, Mr. Drew!’
“ ‘Too bad,’ my father said. ‘As I told you, I could have used him. Hung Chin-chung died on the way over—there’s all his clothes waiting for some one to wear them—and his name too. I could have landed your man in San Francisco with no trouble at all. Too bad.’
