s in the box which the master searched this
morning?"

Tarling's eyes narrowed.

"So you knew that, did you?" he said.

The Chinaman smiled. It was a most unusual circumstance, for Ling Chu had
never smiled within Tarling's recollection.

"The papers were in certain order--some turned one way and some turned
the other. When I saw them after I came back from Scotland Yard they had
been disturbed. They could not disturb themselves, master, and none but
you would go to my box."

There was a pause, awkward enough for Tarling, who felt for the moment a
little foolish that his carelessness had led to Ling Chu discovering the
search which had been made of his private property.

"I thought I had put them back as I had found them," he said, knowing
that nothing could be gained by denying the fact that he had gone through
Ling Chu's trunk. "Now, you will tell me, Ling Chu, did those printed
words speak the truth?"

Ling Chu nodded.

"It is true, master," he said. "The Little Narcissus, or as the
foreigners called her, the Little Daffodil, was my sister. She became a
dancer in a tea-house against my wish, our parents being dead. She was a
very good girl, master, and as pretty as a sprig of almond blossom.
Chinese women are not pretty to the foreigner's eyes, but little Daffodil
was like something cast in porcelain, and she had the virtues of a
thousand years."

Tarling nodded.

"She was a good girl?" he repeated, this time speaking in Chinese and
using a phrase which had a more delicate shade of meaning.

"She lived good and she died good," said the Chinaman calmly. "The speech
of the Englishman offended her, and he called her many bad names because
she would not come and sit on his knee; and if he put shame upon her by
embracing her before the eyes of men, she was yet good, and she died very
honourably."

Another interval of silence.

"I see," said Tarling quietly. "And when you said you would come with me
to England, did you expect to meet--the bad Englishman?"

Ling Chu shook his head.

"I had put it from my mind," he said, "until I saw him that day in the
big shop. Then the evil spirit which I had thought was all burnt out
inside me, blazed up again." He stopped.

"And you desired his death?" said Tarling, and a nod was his answer.

"You shall tell me all, Ling Chu," said Tarling.

The man was now pacing the room with restless strides, his emotion
betrayed only by the convulsive clutching and unclutchin