I stared into the leering face, and it was the face of one who knew and who might have said: “Yes! this and other things equally strange have I beheld in many lands as well as England. Much I could tell. Many things grim and terrible, and some few joyous; for behold! I smile but am silent.” For a while Harley stared abstractedly at the bloodstains on the pedestal of the joss and upon the floor beneath from which the matting had been pulled back. Suddenly he turned to Ma Lorenzo: “Where have you hidden the body?” he demanded. Watching her, I thought I saw the woman flinch, but there was enough of the Oriental in her composition to save her from self-betrayal. She shook her head slowly, watching Harley through half-closed eyes. “Nobody hab,” she replied. And I thought for once that her lapse into pidgin had been deliberate and not accidental. When finally we quitted the house of the missing Kwen Lung, and when, Harley having curtly acknowledged “good night” from the detective on duty, we came out into Limehouse Causeway. “You have not overlooked the possibility, Harley,” I said, “that this woman's explanation may be true, and that the fireman of the Seahawk may have been entertaining us with an account of a weird dream?” “No!” snapped Harley--“neither will Scotland Yard overlook it.” He was in a particularly impossible mood, for he so rarely made mistakes that to be detected in one invariably brought out those petulant traits of character which may have been due in some measure to long residence in the East. Recognizing that he would rather be alone I parted from him at the corner of Chancery Lane and returned to my own chambers. Furthermore, I was very tired, for it was close upon two o'clock, and on turning in I very promptly went to sleep, nor did I awaken until late in the morning. For some odd reason, but possibly because the fact had occurred to me just as I was retiring, I remembered at the moment of waking that I had not told Harley about the romantic wedding of Captain Dan. As I had left my friend in very ill humour I thought that this would be a good excuse for an early call, and just before eleven o'clock I walked into his office. Innes, his invaluable secretary, showed me into the study at the back. “Hallo, Knox,” said Harley, looking up from a little silver Buddha which he was examining, “have you come to ask for news of the Kwen Lung case?” “No,” I replied. “Is there any?” Harley shook his head. “It seems like fate,” he declared, “that this thing should have been sent to me this morning.” He indicated the silver Buddha. “A present from a friend who knows my weakness for Chinese ornaments,” he explained grimly. “It reminds me of that damned joss of Kwen Lung's!”