“There's Wainwright,” whispered Porter, who closed the procession. “Where?” I asked, a dim remembrance of the mission on which I had sent him in pursuit of the snake-eyed man giving the information a sinister twist. Porter gave a chirrup, and Wainwright halted at the door. “He's just passed up the alley here,” said Wainwright in a low voice. “Who? Terrill?” I asked. “Yes,” said Wainwright. “I've kept him in sight all the evening.” “Hasn't he seen you?” asked Porter. “I spied you as soon as you turned the corner.” “Don't know,” said Wainwright; “but something's up. There he goes now. I mustn't miss him.” And Wainwright darted off. I looked searchingly in the direction he took, but could see no sign of the snake-eyed enemy. The presence of Terrill gave me some tremors of anxiety, for I knew that his unscrupulous ferocity would stop at nothing. I feared for the moment that some violence might threaten the party, and that perhaps Luella was in danger. Then I reflected that the presence of Doddridge Knapp's daughter was a protection against an attack from Doddridge Knapp's agents, and I followed the party into the heathen temple without further apprehensions. The temple was small, and even in the dim, religious light that gave an air of mystery to the ugly figure of the god and the trappings of the place, the whole appeared cheap--a poor representative of the majesty of a religion that claims the devotion of four hundred million human beings. “That's one of the richest carvings ever brought into this country,” said Corson, pointing to a part of the altar mounting. “Tin thousand dollars wouldn't touch one side of it.” “You don't say!” cried Mrs. Bowser, while the rest murmured in the effort to admire the work of art. “And is that stuff burning for a disinfectant?” She pointed to numerous pieces of punk, such as serve the small boy on the Fourth of July, that were consuming slowly before the ugly joss. “No, ma'am--not but they needs it all right enough,” said Corson, “but that's the haythen way of sayin' your prayers.” This information was so astonishing that Corson was allowed to finish his explanation without further remarks from Mrs. Bowser. “I'll show you the theater next,” said he, as he led the way out of the temple with Mrs. Bowser giving her views of the picturesque heathen in questions that Corson found no break in the conversation long enough to answer. As I lingered for a moment in some depression of spirit, waiting for the others to file out, a voice that thrilled me spoke in my ear. “Our guide is enjoying a great favor.” It was Luella, noticing me for the first time since the expedition had started. “He has every reason to be delighted,” I returned, brightening at the favor I was enjoying. “Foreign travel is said to be of great value in education,” said Luella, taking my arm, “but it's certainly stupid at times.”