s mind, which is, I believe, a trait of the Eastern
character and which enables him to forget to a great
extent the sordid cares of his calling in an inner life
of his own creation. Of the keen, analytical side of his
mind, I was in entire ignorance until the evening of
which I write.

The room where we sat was small and dingy, with but little
furniture except our chairs and the little table at which
we filled and arranged our pipes, and was lighted only
by a tallow candle. There were a few pictures on the
walls, for the most part rude prints cut from the columns
of the daily press and pasted up to hide the bareness of
the room. Only one picture was in any way noticeable, a
portrait admirably executed in pen and ink. The face was
that of a young man, a very beautiful face, but one of
infinite sadness. I had long been aware, although I know
not how, that Ah-Yen had met with a great sorrow, and
had in some way connected the fact with this portrait.
I had always refrained, however, from asking him about
it, and it was not until the evening in question that I
knew its history.

We had been smoking in silence for some time when Ah-Yen
spoke. My friend is a man of culture and wide reading,
and his English is consequently perfect in its construction;
his speech is, of course, marked by the lingering liquid
accent of his country which I will not attempt to
reproduce.

"I see," he said, "that you have been examining the
portrait of my unhappy friend, Fifty-Six. I have never
yet told you of my bereavement, but as to-night is the
anniversary of his death, I would fain speak of him for
a while."

Ah-Yen paused; I lighted my pipe afresh, and nodded to
him to show that I was listening.

"I do not know," he went on, "at what precise time
Fifty-Six came into my life. I could indeed find it out
by examining my books, but I have never troubled to do
so. Naturally I took no more interest in him at first
than in any other of my customers--less, perhaps, since
he never in the course of our connection brought his
clothes to me himself but always sent them by a boy. When
I presently perceived that he was becoming one of my
regular customers, I allotted to him his number, Fifty-Six,
and began to speculate as to who and what he was. Before
long I had reached several conclusions in regard to my
unknown client. The quality of his linen showed me that,
if not rich, he was at any rate fairly well off. I could
see that he was a young