13. A KNOCK AT CHARLIE’S DOOR
A few mornings later, in the police court on the second floor of Halekaua Hale at the foot of Bethel Street in Honolulu, three men were on trial—a Portuguese, a Korean and a Filipino. They were charged with gambling in the street, and on the witness stand at the moment sat a placid and serene Chinese. The East, we are told, has a deep respect for obesity; in China as a mandarin increases in weight, he gains in prestige; in Japan the wrestlers, heroes of the crowd, are enormous. The Oriental in the witness-box was equipped, on this count, for high standing among his own.
“All right, Inspector Chan,” said the judge. “Let us have your story, please.”
The witness sat, immobile as a stone Buddha. He opened his narrow black eyes a trifle wider, and spoke.
“I am
