The the it's I'm it's I'm the Come with us to the World Adventurers Club, an organization composed of men who have met with strange adventures. And as the members of this club settle down to the enjoyment of a thrilling story, we invite you to join us, not only to be entertained, but to feel the same emotions and thrills experienced by the teller of the tale. I am the builder who walks with me, the glory of cities I pray shall see, towers that rise to the art of the skies. For I am the builder of the world. Gentlemen, we will now get together for another thrilling adventure tale. Where is it from now? The Far East? The Orient? London? Paris? Vienna? Where? What's the matter with America? Ah, Bosch! Americans are too prosaic. That's where you are wrong. Tonight we have with us Donald Trump, the president of the United States, and the president of the United States of America. That's where you are wrong. Tonight we have with us Dr. Gilbert of San Francisco, whose strange adventure story will hold you spellbound. Dr. Gilbert. Just a moment, just a moment, doctor. I'm anxious to know how near I came to the locale of your story. It was in a foreign land, wasn't it? No, gentlemen. One can meet with a strange adventure in this land of ours, as in any other. My story is laid in San Francisco Chinatown, the Chinatown of the old San Francisco, later to be laid in ashes. But from those ashes come memories, many sweet but many sad. And it is from that old San Francisco that my story comes. I knew I was right when I said America was also a land of adventure. But please go on, doctor. Gentlemen, the telling of this story is not easy for me. Although it happened over 40 years ago, I had met and fallen deeply in love with a beautiful Boston girl. In time she consented to be my wife, was happy and willing to share my life. Though it meant taking her too far off San Francisco, many miles away from home and family. She certainly must have cared, doctor, to leave Boston. I know some Boston girls and just try and pry them away from there, especially for the wild and wooly West as they call it. Yes. Well, my fiance Anita was to follow me. And for a few weeks, until we had completed plans for our wedding, she would be the guest of my aunt, a Mrs. Morrison of San Francisco. Several days after Anita arrived, thrilled with everything in this colorful city of the West, she begged to be taken to Chinatown. At that time, a weird, fantastic place with its crooked little streets and narrow alleys, shadowy figures slinking along dark passageways, the everlasting wail of oriental music, mysterious buildings with barred windows, from where at times peaked the sad little faces of beautiful slave girls. To Anita, all this was romantic, fascinating. To me, it was murky, unclean. I shuddered even when we entered it, through the then old Dupont Street, now known as Grand Avenue. I remember it well, doctor. Well, Anita and I, accompanied by my aunt, went into one of the few tea houses there at that period. As we entered the smoke-filled room, we were eyed furtively by several overfed, sleek-looking Chinese. Others could be seen smoking opium in a back room. We ascended to the upper storey where tea was served. Anita was becoming more fascinated with it all each moment. Alan, isn't it all wonderful? Did you notice that marvelous man in the coat, the old Chinaman downstairs was looking at as we came in? Aunt Louise, did you see those gorgeous silks? Both of them. We must stop and see them on our way out. Or shall we go down now? We can stop on the way out. Tea first. You like tea? Maybe some cake? Nice? Chinese cake? Yes, bring it all along. Tea, cake, and anything else you have. Okay. Maybe a big lady like a tattoo? You like a tattoo? Tattoo boy here now? Certainly not. The idea. What do you think we are, sideshow people? Hurry up with the tea and let's get out of here. Oh, Alan, please do be patient. Yes, send in the tattoo boy. I'm not going to miss one thing. I feel like Alan does about this place. It's uncanny. Oh, nonsense, Aunt Louise. It's just different. It's Chinatown. I love it. Oh, hi, lady. You like a tattoo? I like to put the tattoo on the beautiful white lady. You, sorry, a lot of pretty picture? Become a blood-ified flower? You see, pretty low as blood. And you may be sure you like a name too? Yes, I would. Alan, I want a tattoo as a memory of this day. I'm going to have that little tiny rosebud with Alan just underneath it. Why, I need a child. That's awful. It's not human. Only wild people, cannibals and the like, do those things. Nonsense, Anita. I won't allow you to have that done. Anything but that. Allow? Now, Alan, the promise to love, honor and obey hasn't been made yet. Oh, let me, let me disobey just for this last time. I'm going to have it done here, on my wrist, under this wide old-fashioned bracelet that Aunt Louise gave me. Now, had I known it would be used as a cloak to hide such a sinful thing as a tattoo, I doubt if I'd given it to you. Anita, please don't. I think it's unheard of. A sensible American girl going through life with a tattoo mark. Now, please, I need you to listen to us and don't do it. This one time, you must pamper me. Oh, boy, I want the rosebud, that tiny one, and under it the word Alan. Oh, here, see, I'll write it for you. A-L-L-E-N. Oh, you're looking at A-L-L-E-N. Did it come here, Alan? That's right. Now, now I'll watch. Well, I won't. It makes me sick to even think of it. I think I'll go downstairs and price that mandarin cone. I feel the same as Alan about it. I'm going down and look at those silks. Oh, for the last time, Anita, please don't. Oh, don't be silly, dear. Well, I hope a good scrubbing with sand soap will take it off. Oh, no, no, no. Soap here, no taking him off. Only way is on. Nothing taking off. Alan, Alan, please come here just for one moment. I can't understand one word this man says, and I do want the cone. All right, I'll be down. I'll be right back, Anita. And you, I'll be right back, Anita. And you, boy, hurry up with that insane job. Gentlemen, that was the last time I ever saw Anita. We heard what sounded like a muffled scream. Aunt Louise and I rushed back upstairs, but not a living soul was in sight. We notified the police. Every available man was put on the job. Underground Chinatown was combed as well as white men in those days could comb it. But the woman I loved had gone forever. You never saw her again, Doctor? Even now, after all these years, I find the sequel to my story the most painful to relate. One day, 20 years later, a telephone call came to me. Hello. Yes, Dr. Gilbert is here. Who is calling, please? Oh, yes, Chief. Just a moment. Doctor, Chief of Police White on the line. He wishes to speak to you. Yes, Chief. This is Dr. Gilbert. Yes. Yes, I remember you very well. Yes. What? You don't think... My God. It can't be. I'll come at once. Goodbye. Nurse, I have a call to go to Chinatown. There's been a raid. They... they want me to see somebody they think I might know. I'm going to ask you to go with me. Yes, Doctor. In your car or are we taking the ambulance? We need the ambulance. But let's get started at once before it is too late. Hello. Hello. This is Dr. Gilbert's office. The ambulance at once for the doctor. And please hurry. Here he is, Chief. This is Dr. Gilbert. Hello, Doctor. We've just raided one of the most loathsome underground dens in Chinatown. Some of the inmates are pretty tough. And one of them is an old woman. A horrible looking old creature. She's been starved and brutally beaten. And her death is only a matter of a few hours. Doctor, she seems to want to say something. And she... she's a white woman. There's no mistaking it. But come with me, Doctor. Lead the way. I went with him. Down, down. Darker and more loathsome with each step. The stench of the place almost unbearable. At last we came down into a filthy cellar. It was all unspeakable. By the light of a couple of candles, I saw on a dirty cot a most wretched looking old hag. Shriveled skin, a few wisps of straggly white hair, teeth gone, scars of the lash over her poor old neck and shoulders. As I approached the cot, she... she looked up into my face, into my eyes. She held out her withered old hand. I... I took it and glanced down. And there... there on the wrist was the tattooed rose. And under it, the word Allen. Now before saying goodbye to the World Adventurers Club and to you all, I want to say that I hope you will be with us again at our next meeting. I happen to know that we have in store for you an even more thrilling and strange adventure in a strange land. The End