this day," Mhtoon
Pah flung his hands to the roof, "shall I forget it? This day he walked
with speed, and when my little Absalom salaamed before him, he hardly
stopped, which is not the habit of the Reverend."

"Did you see him come back? Mr. Heath, I mean?"

Mhtoon Pah stood and looked curiously at Hartley, and remained in a
state of suspended animation for a second.

"How could I see him come back?" he said, in a flat, expressionless
voice. "I went to the Pagoda, _Thakin_. I am building a shrine there,
and shall thereby acquire much merit. I did not see the Reverend return.
Besides, he might not have come by the way of Paradise Street."

"He might not."

"It is not known," said Mhtoon Pah, shaking his head dubiously, and then
rage seemed to flare up in him once more. "It is Leh Shin, the
Chinaman," he said, violently. "Let it be known to you, _Thakin_, they
eat strange meats, they hold strange revels. I have heard things--" he
lowered his voice. "I have been told of how they slay."

"Then keep the information to yourself, unless you can prove it," said
Hartley, firmly. "I want to hear nothing about it." He got up and looked
around the shop. "I suppose you haven't got the lacquer bowl since?"

"No, _Thakin_, I have not got it, neither have I seen Leh Shin, an evil
man. The Lady Sahib will have to wait; neither has she been here since,
nor asked for the bowl."

Hartley walked down the steps; he was troubled by the thought, and the
more he tried to work out some definite theory that left Mr. Heath
outside the ring that he proposed to draw around his subject, the more
he appeared on the horizon of his mind, always walking quickly and
looking at his watch.

Through lunch he went over the facts and faced the Heath question
squarely, considering that if Heath knew that the boy was in trouble,
and had connived at his escape, he would be muzzled, but there was
nothing to show that Absalom had ever broken the law. His employer,
Mhtoon Pah, was in despair at his disappearance, his record was
blameless, and he had been entrusted with the deal in lacquer to be
carried out the following morning.

Looking for Absalom was like tracing a shadow that has passed along a
street on soundless feet, and Hartley felt an eager determination seize
him to catch up with this flying wraith.

Still with the same idea in his mind, he drove along the principal
roads in his buggy, directing his way towards the bungalow where the
Rector