“No doubt you are right. But Hong Yo and Farbush are awaiting you in Hong’s place.” He looked inquiringly at Kenyon, and after a pause of some length asked: “I say, what is your candid opinion of Farbush?” Kenyon shrugged his shoulders. “How can I form an opinion of a person of whom I know so very little,” he replied, cautiously. “Well, you have heard how he has conducted his share of the game. Surely you must have arrived at some sort of a conclusion, from that.” Kenyon shook his head slowly; his assumption of calm neutrality was perfect. “You will pardon me, I know,” he said, suavely. “But I’d rather not express myself upon so, to me, vague a point.” “I would like to know, and Hong would like to know, just how you stand, right there.” There was a serious note in the young man’s voice that at once caught Kenyon’s attention. “I don’t want to give you the notion, though, that we have split into factions, or are even inclined to do so,” he added, hastily. “I should hope not,” added Kenyon, gravely. “But we should like some sort of an expression from you, just the same,” persisted Forrester. “At a later time I shall be only too glad to express myself fully and completely.” There was a finality in Kenyon’s tone that was unmistakable. “Until that time comes, I prefer not to go upon record.” “Very well, then,” replied Forrester, sulkily. “Of course it is no great matter either way. But I, for one, prefer to have a good clear light upon my path and not to leave anything to the future.” Then he crossed to the old hag, and bending over her began whispering. “Not leave anything to the future!” was Kenyon’s mental exclamation. “Great Cæsar! What would he do in my shoes, I wonder? I am banking upon the future, entirely, for my light; the present seems only to intensify the darkness.” Forrester continued his whispering to the woman; so Kenyon once more drew aside the curtain and looked into the large room where sat the people of the night. His first rapid glance was directed toward the corner where he had last seen the girl and the man with the bandaged head; but they were not there, and his keen eyes ran over the room eagerly. “They have gone!” he breathed. “And where?” But he had little time to think about it, for Forrester spoke to him, and he had to give him his attention. “Faing Sen, here, will lead you to those whom you are to meet,” said Forrester, indicating the hag. “Follow her, and don’t wonder at the road or anything you might see. As I remarked before, this is a regular rabbit warren.” The fat old woman arose. “May seven times seven hundred evils beset your path,” she wished, in her confidence that she was not understood. “And may the gods look darkly upon your children’s birth.” That he understood what the old woman said Kenyon kept to himself. But he remarked to Forrester, with a laugh, “Faing Sen does not seem to be in a good temper to-night.”