drunken seaman was against all moral precept. The
sailor's ways were scandalous, his gain would go into evil hands.
Treated in this manner, even a Sunday-school graduate could lull an
uneasy conscience, and as far as Coryndon could judge, Absalom was not
troubled by any warnings from that silent mentor. Out of the brain of
Leh Shin's assistant the great scheme had leapt full-grown, and it only
required a little careful preparation to put it into action.

The assistant knew the sailor, a Lascar with a craving for drink, and he
became friendly with him "out of hours," and learned his ways and the
times when he was likely to be in the house where he lodged. The sailor,
having come to know that value was attached to his bowl, guarded it with
avaricious care when in a condition to do so; and Leh Shin, who trusted
his assistant, through whom the news of the deal had first come to his
ear, offered the man fifty rupees for what he had merely stolen from a
shop in Pekin. It took the assistant a full week to arrange events so
that he and Absalom could work together for the moral good of the
sailor, and protect him from the snares of lucre, represented by a third
of the money Leh Shin expected to receive.

He dwelt with some pride upon the fact, and his vanity in this
particular almost conquered his fear of the Afghan blade that still
nestled close to his bull neck. He had drunk in friendship with the
sailor, dropping a drug into his cup, and waiting till his eyes grew dim
and he fell forward in a heavy sleep. But even in the moment of
achievement his wits were worth more than the wits of Absalom, for he
ran out of the house and established an alibi while the Christian boy
filched the bowl from beneath the bed of the intoxicated sailor. At a
given hour he waited for Absalom just where Heath had stood after he
had parted from Rydal, and so chance played twice into his hands in one
night. Absalom, who appeared to have imbibed some rudimentary principles
of honour among thieves, passed the boy his share, which was a hundred
and twenty rupees, including his debts of honour, and having done so,
sped away into the night, the bowl under his arm.

"And that is all the story," said the boy, beating his hands on the
floor, and returning from the momentary forgetfulness of the narrative
to the immediate fear of the knife. "Further than that, I know nothing.
The hour is late and if I am not at the river house I shall feel the
wrath of my m