Now the hiring of Ah Moy and Shun Sen to twang their _samyens_ for the delectation of white devils, and hand them coffee and sing to them, “came high,” for the damsels were famous in their way and in great demand. “This is too small a thing for you to notice, Jim,” replied Quong Lung; “nothing is too good for my friend.” “Why didn’t you add, ‘the earth is my lord’s and the fullness thereof,’ and crush me with your compliments? As though I were a damned coolie!” There was some petulance in Ray’s voice, as he gave way to the feeble irritability that attends the constant use of narcotics and stimulants by all except Orientals. He rose to his elbow from the mat on which he was smoking, and threw the pipe on its tray, like a spoiled child. But Quong Lung took no notice of the little outbreak, and Ah Moy put the pipe to his lips with her own fair hands and soon coaxed him into complacency. When a look of contentment had once more settled on his face, Ray said, deprecatingly: “It was the ‘dope’ that spoke, Quong Lung, and not I; forgive me, old man! And now, what do you want?” Quong Lung motioned to the girls to withdraw, and when he was alone with Ray he said: “Jim, I shall hang unless you help me.” “You must be in a bad fix, indeed, Quong Lung, if you depend on my small arts to help you. Explain.” “Certain papers implicating me are in the possession of one of my blood-hounds, who has shown himself recalcitrant and ungrateful--the damned dog! By means of the battery yonder, which you rigged up for me, I frightened the brute considerably this morning, and he will be here again two nights hence with such of the papers as his fears may compel him to part with; but if his courage should revive, as it may, and if he should come without the documents, I want to put him under the stress of telling me where they are to be found, and then I desire that he should never speak again!” Quong Lung darted a look full of dangerous meaning at Ray. “Why don’t you employ your regular bull-dogs to attend to this unpleasant affair, Quong Lung?” “Because their methods are coarse and their weapons clumsy.” “But it is deuced risky to be an accessory before the fact in a murder case, my friend.” “No, no, Jim, not murder! Call it, rather, ‘the sudden death of an unknown coolie, from unknown causes.’” “And the consideration for me?” “Two hundred dollars now,” said Quong Lung, laying a pile of notes on the platform on which they were smoking, “and two hundred more after the thing is over.” “And if I refuse?” Quong Lung shrugged his shoulders, and said, in an indifferent tone of voice: “Life without opium, and without means of obtaining it, were hell, as you know. Besides, so many accidents are constantly happening in Chinatown.”