terized Peter Moore's intention to penetrate the
stronghold of the cinnabar king. He knew that his chances for entering
Len Yang were absurdly small. Yet the whole of the Chinese Empire was
not particularly safe for him now. The Gray Dragon had paid him the
compliment of recognizing in him an enemy. He no longer doubted
Minion's warning; the dragon of Len Yang controlled a powerful
organization. No part of China was safe. If he desired to run away
from this very actual danger in which direction could he run?

"_When menaced by danger_," runs an old Chinese proverb, "_go to the
very heart of it; there you will find safety_."

It lacked a few minutes of midnight when Peter entered the Palace bar
by the bund side. Only a few lights were burning, and the exceedingly
long teak bar--"the longest bar east of Suez"--was adorned by a few
knots of men only. Tobacco smoke was thick in the place, nearly
obscuring the doorway into the hotel lobby.

He scanned the idlers, looking for the cloth of sailormen. His quest
was ended. Bobbie MacLaurin was here, disposing of all of the imported
Scotch whiskey that came convenient to his long and muscular reach.

In a deep and sonorous voice he was pointing out to a group of
uniformed sailors, burdening his point with a club-like forefinger with
which he pounded on the edge of the teak bar, that while he rarely
drank off duty, he never drank when on. This claim Peter had reason to
know was not untrue.

The wireless operator edged his way to MacLaurin's side, and touched
his arm, making a whispered remark which the Scotchman evidently did
not comprehend. For MacLaurin wheeled on him, and bestowed upon him a
red, glassy, and hotly indignant stare.

Bobbie MacLaurin was, in the language of the sea, a whale of a man.
His head seemed unnecessarily large until you began to compare it with
his body; and his body was the despair of uniform manufacturers, who
desire above all things to make a fair percentage of profit. He was
like a living monument, two and a half hundred weight of fighting flesh
and bones, which, when all of it went into action, could better be
compared to a volcano than to a monument. Otherwise he was an
exceedingly amiable young giant.

The redness and hotness of the stare he imposed upon the friend of more
than one adventurous expedition slowly receded, leaving only the
glassiness in evidence. Bobbie fidgeted uneasily.

"Damn my hide!" he roared. "Your fac