“I believe I’ve found him,” was the assertion with which Patsy Garvan greeted Nick Carter, as he opened the door of his own library. “I’ve heard of a chink with a sore mudhook and a listener branded from the top edge down to the flap where you’d hang an earring, if you wore such a thing.” Patsy jumped from behind Nick’s desk as the detective and Chick entered the room, and it was obvious that the enthusiastic second assistant had been about to write a report for his chief when he was interrupted. He had thrown his hat on a chair, taken off his coat, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and thrust the fingers of his left hand through his hair, as a preparation for literary labor. Writing was one of the occupations that he seldom took up by choice. “Where is he, Patsy?” asked Nick, as he took the chair the young fellow had vacated. “Can you produce him?” “Sure I can,” replied Patsy. “That is, after we’ve laid out three or four other chinks who’ll maybe stick in the way.” “In Chinatown?” asked Chick. “Naw!” was Patsy’s scornful reply. “That isn’t any place to look for a chink who’s traveling on the ragged edge of the law. That’s where you’d naturally look for him, and he wouldn’t be a chink if he didn’t have cunning enough to be somewhere else. Gee! They’re a wise bunch, and don’t you forget it. Why, I----” “Where did you find him?” interrupted Nick. “Get down to business.” “Well, I’ll tell you,” returned Patsy, in a half-apologetic tone. “When I went out of the house to-night, to look for this chink, I didn’t know where to go. It wasn’t likely he’d be down near Mott or Doyers or Pell Street. Those are Chinatown, of course, and there are more chinks to the square yard around there than you’d find in square miles anywhere else in New York.” “That’s so,” commented Chick. “Of course, it’s so. Everybody knows that. Also, there was a possibility that this crooked-eyed geezer might be there. But I didn’t think so. The question was, where should I look? I know a lot of chink laundries in Greater New York, and some more over in Jersey City. But it would take me a week to look into them all, and I wouldn’t be sure of landing my man, at that.” “Great Scott! Why don’t you tell your yarn right off the bat, Patsy?” begged Chick. “Where is this Chinaman?” “I’m coming to that, Chick. Don’t be in such a hustle. When I’d walked around for a while, thinking it over, I found myself back in front of our house.” “Yes?” “I was on the other side of the avenue, in the shadow, when I saw two men come out of this house.” “You did?” shouted Chick. “Did you know them? Who were they? Why didn’t you say so at first?” “Of course, I knew them,” replied Patsy, to Chick’s first query. “They were the chief and you.” Chick snorted in disgust, while Nick Carter laughed, for he had suspected what Patsy would say. “What did you do then?” asked Nick.