Then the adventurer swiftly stepped to the table and laid a hand upon the packet of securities. “I think,” said he, coolly, “that I will take charge of these, just now.” He slid them into his overcoat pocket, and then glanced sharply around as he caught a queer sound from Hong Yo. The Chinaman was swaying weakly; his hands vaguely clutched at the empty air, and his pale lips were muttering in his own language. Then suddenly he pitched forward and lay still. Farbush crept forward, cowed, to look at him. “He’s dead,” said he. And just then, through the doorway, came Philip Austin, Garry Webster, and the bandaged youth from Saginaw. “We heard the screams,” said Webster, “and thought you might need us.” Then seeing the stark form of Hong Yo, he exclaimed: “Hello! What’s this?” “It looks quite a bit like the end to me,” replied Kenyon. XXIV CONCLUSION “And so they were married and lived happily ever afterwards.” --_The End of Any Good Story._ GARRY WEBSTER and Philip Austin were at dinner in the former’s apartments some few nights later, when Kenyon was announced. “Have a bite, old boy,” Webster incited. “We have some little things here that I know you’ll appreciate.” “Thanks, no; I’ve only stopped in to keep you from bothering me upon that confounded telephone of yours. I’ve not had a restful moment at my apartments for days. I’ve either been forced to listen to your frantic calls, or been in constant expectation of their renewal, every moment of the time I’ve been home.” Webster grinned. “Oh, well, you know,” said he, “it’s nothing but natural curiosity. I only wanted to know any little thing you’d found out.” After he had put down his hat, overcoat, gloves, and stick, Kenyon turned his back to Webster’s ruddy log fire and looked comfortable. “Look what it is to have money,” said he. “Log fires; nice little dinners; expensive hotels. The hardware trade must be an excellent one.” “No better than the importing of fine oriental stuffs,” replied Webster, calmly, as he went on with his dinner. “Austin has just been telling me about his offer to you.” “And I renew it,” spoke Austin seriously. “Since I’ve kicked out Farbush and that fellow Forrester, and since Hong Yo is dead, I’ve got the entire thing to myself. I’ll have you in as a partner, if you’ll run the business.” “I’m going to take you up,” said Kenyon, quietly. “Bravo!” Young Austin arose and solemnly shook the adventurer’s hand. “Do you know, the sudden shifting of all this upon my shoulders has sort of upset me. I’ve got work to do at my laboratories in Chicago, and will have no time to fool away on a shipping trade at Seattle. Another thing: I have no taste for the thing, and could never grasp its details.” “And Kenyon is just the fellow for it,” put in Webster. “He knows more about China than most people; and then he’s a regular bull-terrier for holding on. I always said he’d make an excellent business man.”