I have met some Chinamen this morning who would cheerfully plunge Wong Li Fu into a cauldron of boiling oil, and stir him round with a long stick when he was in it.

One man, quite an important personage in the jute line, has lost a brother and a brother-in-law, the one in Canton, the other in Pekin, and he lays both deaths at the door of the redoubtable Wong.
Another, the fellow who chanced to take up his quarters at Smith's Hotel, is a delegate sent here specially to hunt out Wong, and destroy him.

I asked him how he meant to set about it, but his scheme is vague.
He's an opportunist of the first water.

'Me catchee and killee Wong Li Fu one time,' was his best effort.

I'm going to confront Len Shi with these two in Bow Street.