en
Joicey was one of those men, who, if he had died suddenly, would have
made people remember that they always thought him unhealthy-looking.
There was nothing, romantic, exciting, or interesting about him; his
mind was a huge pass-book, and his brain a network of facts and figures.
He played no games, went only seldom to the Club, and knew no one in the
place better than he knew Hartley, which was little, but at any rate
Hartley dined once or twice in the year with him, and he occasionally
dined in return with the Head of the Police.

Hartley was so occupied with his trouble of mind on the subject of
Absalom that he very nearly forgot that he had invited Joicey to dinner
the following Saturday. The police had discovered nothing whatever, and
he had received another visit at his house from the curio dealer. Mhtoon
Pah, in a condition bordering upon frenzy, stated that when he had stood
on his steps in the morning, intending to go to the Pagoda to offer alms
to the priests, he had noticed his wooden effigy and gone down to look
closer at him. The yellow man pointed as was his wont, but over the
pointing hand lay a rag soaked in blood.

Mhtoon Pah, immense and splendid in his silk, had given forth wild
noises as he produced the rag, noises that reminded Hartley irresistibly
of the trumpeting of elephants, but they were terrible to hear.

"It is enough," he said, his face quivering. "This is the work of the
Chinamen. They slit his veins, _Thakin_, they are doing it slowly. The
_Thakin_ can understand that Absalom still lives, his blood is fresh and
red, it is not dead blood that runs like treacle, it is living blood
that spouts out hot, and that steams and smokes. _Thakin_, _Thakin_, I
cry for vengeance."

"I'm doing all I can, Mhtoon Pah," said Hartley, desperately. "I can't
go and arrest Leh Shin on suspicion, because there isn't a vestige of
suspicion attached to the man."

"Not after this?" Mhtoon Pah pointed to the rag that lay loathsomely on
the table.

"That may be goat's blood, or dog's blood; we can't say it is
Absalom's," objected Hartley. "Leave the horrid thing there, Mhtoon Pah,
and I will have it analysed later on."

Mhtoon Pah gasped and beat his breast.

"He was a good boy, he attended the Mission with regularity, and they
are doing terrible things. They wind wires around the finger-nails and
the toe-nails until they turn black and drop off. You do not know these
Chinamen, _Thakin_, as I know them