n). I closed
the window, but forgot to bolt it in my hurry. I ran quickly along the
hall and went down the stairs. I put the coat and cap in the closet in
the hall, where I had found them, and went out through the servant's
entrance. I walked into Exeter and sent word to my brothers in London
that the sacred relic had come. Then I had some breakfast and came back.
Afterward I learned that the jewel was gone. I did not know whether The
Great Buddha had taken it away or not. I tried to get into the room, but
it was always locked. At last the dead man was taken away and I was sent
to fix the room. I searched everywhere--under the carpets, behind the
pictures, in the mattress of the bed--but I could not find the stone. At
last the young man (Mr. Morgan) came into the room suddenly, and I
watched him. He, too, I knew, was seeking for the jewel. After a time,
he took the piece of soap and went away. I was a fool--I had not thought
of the soap, which lay there in front of my eyes. It was the only thing
I had not searched. I knew that, if Buddha had not taken away the stone,
it must be concealed there. I watched the young man. I saw him put it
in his bag. I went downstairs, and, after a while, when the satchel was
left unguarded for a moment, I took it. The young man and the officer
were outside and stopped me. When I was taken into the jail at Exeter,
my friend, Chuen Moy came to see me. I told him through the bars what
had happened. I did not know whether the young man would keep the stone
or give it to the officer. I told Chuen Moy that they were both going to
London in the afternoon. I told Chuen Moy to go to London and to inform
our brothers that they might get the stone. I have done nothing wrong.
The man who died had offended the great Buddha. He committed a sacrilege
in the shrine and he deserved to die. The mighty hand of the
all-powerful one was stretched out, and he fell dead. I myself have seen
the miracle. It is the vengeance of Buddha."

I do not know what the effect of this weird story was upon the others
in the court-room, but to me it rang with all the accents of sincerity
and truth. Not that I believed in the vengeance of Buddha, although even
that I was not in the face of the evidence prepared to deny, but the
actual events of his story, as he related them, explained everything,
and nothing. There were no clues which had not been unraveled and made
clear, yet we were as far from the solution of the mystery as