his father's fire.

"Here's a picture of the fight between the Monitor and Merrimac," he
cried interestedly, "When I grow up I shall join the navy and wear a
cap with gold braid, like Farragut."

"And I shall be a lawyer ... maybe a Senator or President," said
Francisco, with importance.

The men, talking politics over their cigars, did not hear this converse,
but the women looked down at their sons, smiling fondly. "Yesterday
Robert announced that he would be a poet," Alice confided. "He saw his
father writing verses in a book."

"And tomorrow he will want to be an inventor or a steam-boat captain,"
Inez answered. "'Tis the way with boys.... Mine is getting so big--I'm
afraid he'll be going to war."

Po Lun interrupted their further confidences. He rushed in breathless,
unannounced. "Misstah Windham," he spoke to Benito. "One man wanchee see
you quick in Chinatown.... He allee same plitty soon die. He say you
sabe him. His name McTu'pin."

CHAPTER LVIII

McTURPIN TURNS INFORMER

Benito stared, bewildered, at the Chinaman. "McTurpin dying? Wants to
see me?"

Po Lun nodded. "He send-um China boy you' house. He wait outside."

Benito rose. Alice laid detaining fingers on his arm. "Don't go ... it's
just a ruse. You know McTurpin."

"The time is past when he can injure me," he answered gravely.
"Something tells me it is right--to go." He kissed her, disengaged her
arms about him gently, and went out. Adrian signaled to the Chinese.
"Follow him...."

Po Lun nodded understandingly.

A shuffling figure, face concealed beneath a broad-brimmed hat, hands
tucked each within the opposite sleeve, awaited Windham just outside the
door. He set out immediately in an easterly direction, glancing over his
shoulder now and again to make certain that Benito followed. Down the
steep slope of Washington street he went past moss-grown retaining
walls; over slippery brick pavements, through which the grass-blades
sprouted, to plunge at length into the eddying alien mass of Chinatown's
main artery, Dupont street. Here rushing human counter-currents ebbed
and flowed ceaslessly. Burdens of all sizes and of infinite variety
swept by on swaying shoulder yokes.

Benito's guide paused momentarily on the farther side of Dupont street.
Then, with a beckoning gesture, he dived into a narrow alley. Benito,
following, found himself before the entrance of a cellarway. As he
halted, iron trapdoors opened toward him, revealing a sho