udence," growled the
secretary. "You don't believe all that about the Chink, do you, sir?
'Tain't true."

"It isn't necessary for it to be true to have a meaning for us. It's the
why of his coming to tell us this tale that's important."

"Do you think he made it up to frighten us?" asked Ricardo.

Mr Jones scowled at him thoughtfully.

"The man looked worried," he muttered, as if to himself. "Suppose that
Chinaman has really stolen his money! The man looked very worried."

"Nothing but his artfulness, sir," protested Ricardo earnestly, for the
idea was too disconcerting to entertain. "Is it likely that he would
have trusted a Chink with enough knowledge to make it possible?" he
argued warmly. "Why, it's the very thing that he would keep close about.
There's something else there. Ay, but what?"

"Ha, ha, ha!" Mr. Jones let out a ghostly, squeaky laugh. "I've never
been placed in such a ridiculous position before," he went on, with a
sepulchral equanimity of tone. "It's you, Martin, who dragged me into
it. However, it's my own fault too. I ought to--but I was really
too bored to use my brain, and yours is not to be trusted. You are a
hothead!"

A blasphemous exclamation of grief escaped from Ricardo. Not to be
trusted! Hothead! He was almost tearful.

"Haven't I heard you, sir, saying more than twenty times since we got
fired out from Manila that we should want a lot of capital to work the
East Coast with? You were always telling me that to prime properly all
them officials and Portuguese scallywags we should have to lose heavily
at first. Weren't you always worrying about some means of getting hold
of a good lot of cash? It wasn't to be got hold of by allowing yourself
to become bored in that rotten Dutch town and playing a two-penny game
with confounded beggarly bank clerks and such like. Well, I've brought
you here, where there is cash to be got--and a big lot, to a moral," he
added through his set teeth.

Silence fell. Each of them was staring into a different corner of the
room. Suddenly, with a slight stamp of his foot, Mr. Jones made for the
door. Ricardo caught him up outside.

"Put an arm through mine, sir," he begged him gently but firmly. "No use
giving the game away. An invalid may well come out for a breath of fresh
air after the sun's gone down a bit. That's it, sir. But where do you
want to go? Why did you come out, sir?"

Mr Jones stopped short.

"I hardly know myself," he confessed in a hol