Placing the empty cage on the counter. Sin Sin Wa plunged his hand down into the bag and drew out the gleaming wooden joss. This he set beside the cage. With never a glance at the mummy figure of Sam Tûk, he walked around the counter, raven on shoulder, and grasping the end of the laden shelves, he pulled the last section smoothly to the left, showing that it was attached to a sliding door. The establishments of Sin Sin Wa were as full of surprises as a Sicilian trinketbox. The double purpose of the timbering which had been added to this old storage vault was now revealed. It not only served to enlarge the store-room, but also shut off from view a second portion of the cellar, smaller than the first, and containing appointments which indicated that it was sometimes inhabited. There was an oil-stove in the room, which, like that adjoining it, was evidently unprovided with any proper means of ventilation. A paper-shaded lamp hung from the low roof. The floor was covered with matting, and there were arm-chairs, a divan and other items of furniture, which had been removed from Mrs. Sin’s sanctum in the dismantled House of a Hundred Raptures. In a recess a bed was placed, and as Sin Sin Wa came in Mrs. Sin was standing by the bed looking down at a woman who lay there. Mrs. Sin wore her kimona of embroidered green silk and made a striking picture in that sordid setting. Her black hair she had dyed a fashionable shade of red. She glanced rapidly across her shoulder at Sin Sin Wa—a glance of contempt with which was mingled faint distrust. “So,” she said, in Chinese, “you have come at last.” Sin Sin Wa smiled. “They watched the old fox,” he replied. “But their eyes were as the eyes of the mole.” Still aside, contemptuously, the woman regarded him, and: “Suppose they are keener than you think?” she said. “Are you sure you have not led them—here?” “The snail may not pursue the hawk,” murmured Sin Sin Wa; “nor the eye of the bat follow his flight.” “Smartest leg,” remarked the raven. “Yes, yes, my little friend,” crooned Sin Sin Wa, “very soon now you shall see the paddy-fields of Ho-Nan and watch the great Yellow River sweeping eastward to the sea.” “Pah!” said Mrs. Sin. “Much—very much—you care about the paddy-fields of Ho-Nan, and little, oh, very little, about the dollars and the traffic! You have my papers?” “All are complete. With those dollars for which I care not, a man might buy the world—if he had but enough of the dollars. You are well known in Poplar as ‘Mrs. Jacobs,’ and your identity is easily established—as ‘Mrs. Jacobs.’ You join the _Mahratta_ at the Albert Dock. I have bought you a post as stewardess.” Mrs. Sin tossed her head. “And Juan?” “What can they prove against your Juan if _you_ are missing?” Mrs. Sin nodded towards the bed.