s
again. I have been twenty years in the country and I can tell you many
a curious tale. To-morrow will be Sunday and, if you like, I will call
round and take you to do a bit of sightseeing--the Pagoda and the
lakes."

"I should enjoy it of all things; perhaps you will have tiffin with me
at the hotel?"

"No, you must come to us; twelve o'clock sharp, and afterwards we'll
make a start."

"Then I'll just go in and say good-bye to Mrs. Salter."

When they entered the sitting-room, where lamps had been lighted, they
found the lady of the house in an ecstasy of admiration, gesticulating
with her tiny brown hands, as she gloated over a length of rose and
silver brocade. Standing beside her was the proud owner of this
magnificence; a slim, graceful girl, wearing heavy gold ornaments and
flowers in her hair, and, in spite of an extravagant use of pearl
powder, undeniably pretty. Her slanting eyes were long-lashed and
expressive, and her little mocking mouth wore a bewitching smile.

"Look at my _tamain_, Papa Salter!" she cried; "a piece of the best
satin, just enough for a skirt--one yard and a half; Herr Bernhard
brought it to me from England."

"Splendid indeed, Ma Chit," he replied; "you will cut them all out at
the big festival and the _Pwes_. Mee Lay, Mr. Shafto wishes to say
'good night'!"

Mee Lay took a somewhat preoccupied leave of her guest, her eyes and
attention being riveted upon the gorgeous material in her hand; but Ma
Chit accorded the young man a gay salutation and a splendid view of her
beautiful white teeth.

Salter accompanied his guest to the entrance gate, giving him careful
directions as to the whereabouts of his hotel. It was an exquisite
starlight night; the roar of the bazaar, the clang of the trams, and
the whistling of launches were in the distance; the compound itself was
so still that the sudden thud of a fallen jack-fruit made quite a
startling sound. As the men exchanged last words, their attention was
arrested by a charming tableau in the lighted sitting-room; two figures
were outlined in strong relief against the dark teak walls, both
absorbed in conversation. Ma Chit presented a particularly attractive
picture, with her rose-crowned head, graceful posture, and waving
hands; even as they gazed, her rippling laugh drifted seductively
towards them.

"In this country, great is the tyranny of Temptation, and _there_ is
one of the temptations," gravely announced Salter; "Rango