Chin Chin waited, probably dreaming of the Central Flowery Land and fancying himself under the shade of his native tea plant, offering a tidbit of rat pie to the fair Pettitoes in sabots, skewered hair, talon finger-nails, and brocaded raiment. His tender, nostalgic reverie was disturbed by the cautious turning of a key. The door opened and two men armed with a slide lantern entered. They drew up the slide and stood revealed, a precious pair, Belden and Figgins, come to superintend the training of Pallid for to-morrow’s race. They peered cautiously round the stable--nothing but horses and hay. They could not see that snake-in-the-grass watching them with glittering eye and keen delight. “We must do it quick, Figgy,” said Belden; “give me the ball. You hold the light. Whoa, Pallid!” He stepped to the stall, and patting Pallid on the neck, placed a very suspicious-looking horse-ball in the manger. Pallid was beginning to turn it over and sniff at it, when--slam, bang!--Chin Chin let go the billet. It crashed to the floor, knocking down sundry objects with a terrible clatter. The conspirators started, looked at each other fearfully, and sprang back as if to escape. The noise ceasing, they looked about with anxiety. Belden caught sight of the billet and its effects. “Bah!” said he. “Nothing but a stick of wood fallen down----” and turned back to the horse. Meantime, under cover of the noise and panic, Chin Chin had snatched away the dosed sausage from Pallid’s manger, and thrown in a handful of oats. The horse champed them. “The greedy brute has swallowed his pill and is licking his damned chops,” Belden announced. “Well, you black devil, so much for you for throwing me, and so much for your master. You won’t win any race to-morrow nor this year.” Again examining suspiciously everywhere, they went out as cautiously as they had entered. Chin Chin chuckled. He was fond of Pallid and fond of the turf, a novel fancy for a Chinaman. He knew if he revealed this adventure to Mr. Waddy, that the race would come to an end, so far as that gentleman was concerned, at least. Chin Chin wanted to see the fun. Unluckily for Figgins, he had bets with him. Chin Chin determined to consider himself the executive of retribution and keep his own counsel till after the race. He looked at the ball; he smelt it. “Pose good for Chinaman,” he said, “ebryting all same pigeon eat em rat; eat em puppy; pose eat em sossidge. Hi yah! first chop good, all same.” He nibbled a little bit, ate a little bit, and then looking out and finding the coast clear, cautiously crept homeward in the shadow. As he ate, he seemed at first very well satisfied, then less satisfied, and finally not at all satisfied, and throwing away the remnants of the ball, he made for the Millard, pressing both his hands on that part of his person which seemed the centre of dissatisfaction. CHAPTER XXI THE STORY OF DIANA AND ENDYMION