“Oh! I knew there was something I wished to ask you. Do you know a Chinaman with a red mark on his left cheek, so?” She ran a hand over her cheek. Won chuckled delightedly, though what there was in her question to amuse him, Grace could not imagine. “You savvy Yat Sen? Me savvy Yat Sen plenty much. What me do?” “Thank you. I savvy Yat Sen, too. Please clean the place, scrub the floors nice and clean before Mrs. Smythe gets here.” “Me savvy Slith,” volunteered Won with a grimace. “Why the ‘a-la,’ Won?” asked Elfreda who came in at this juncture. “That is a Chinese round-off, as it were,” Grace informed her. “Have you seen the supervisor this morning?” Elfreda said she had not, for Marie had said that Mrs. Smythe went out rather early. Grace suddenly decided to go home, and asked Elfreda to remain at the canteen to meet the supervisor. “Tell her I was obliged to return to our billet for a few moments,” requested Grace. “She cannot be angrier than she will naturally be, in any event.” Grace, nodding to Elfreda, hurried away. “I wonder what that child is up to now?” Miss Briggs muttered. “I have learned one thing about Grace Harlowe, and that is that she seldom does anything that hasn’t a well-defined motive behind it. I suppose that is the proper way to arrange one’s life. She should have been a lawyer.” Reaching her billet, Grace entered the house quietly and went to her room, apparently without having attracted attention to herself. As she passed the doctor’s rooms she heard voices there. The voices were not loud, but were audible enough to enable her to distinguish those of at least one man and a woman, though it was her impression that there were two men in the room. Now that she was in her own room the voices were borne to her ears even more distinctly than when she had been passing through the hallway. “I believe Miss Marshall is in there,” muttered the Overton girl after several moments of listening. The conversation was being carried on in German, most of it being understandable to Grace. It was only when they lowered their voices that she failed to catch what was being said. Yet, for all that, she did not know what they were talking about, though at times the inference was suggestive of certain things. The conversation lasted for several minutes, then Grace heard the doctor approaching the rear of his apartment, heard the bang of what she took to be a trap door, then footsteps descending stairs. “He is going down to the cellar. I suppose he has a right to do so if he wishes, so why should I object or even be interested? Hark!” Grace heard what she took to be voices in the cellar, though she was positive that no one had accompanied the owner below. “I was right. This is a house of mystery. There he comes!”