The secretary returned to join O’Shea and began to explain in his measured, monotonous way: “I will now inform you as much as it is permitted to know. It disappoints you, I am aware, that his Excellency is unable to translate the writing character which has made so much disturbance. Nor can I translate it, either into Chinese or English words. My language is what you call arbitrary, built up of symbols, not letters. This particular character has been invented to signify some secret purpose. It has the root-sign for _man_, and also the two curved lines which mean a _sending_, a _message_. The rest of it is hidden from us. His Excellency is a scholar of the highest grade among the literati of China. This character, as a whole, he has never been able to find in the classics or the dictionaries.” More puzzled than ever, O’Shea broke in to demand: “But if nobody knows what it means, why does the sight of it start a full-sized panic?” “Many men in China have been found dead, and upon their backs had been hacked with a sword this strange character. It was thus that the own brother of His Excellency was discovered, in the court-yard of his house.” “I begin to see daylight,” said O’Shea. “Ah, there is only the blackest darkness,” gravely replied the secretary. “The branded men have not been coolies, but officials, merchants, people of station. No precautions avail. It smites them like the lightning from the sky. The fear of it walks everywhere. And now it has crossed the sea like an evil shadow.” “That is not quite right,” was the matter-of-fact comment. “Poor Bill Maguire got it in China and brought it with him. ’Tis not likely to trouble you.” “Never have we heard of a man who lived and walked with this mark upon his back, Captain O’Shea. All those to whom this fate has happened were infallibly dead. When they beheld it this afternoon, some of our people believed they gazed upon a red-haired ghost. I am an educated man, a graduate of Oxford University, but I tell you my blood turned to water and my heart was squeezed tight.” “My friend Maguire is hard to kill,” said O’Shea. “I tried it meself. So he was put on the list by this damnable whatever-it-is, and the autograph was carved on him, and he was left for dead! Can ye tell me any more?” “It is not in my power to enlighten you. I have known of men who found this character painted on the posts of their gate-ways. They surrounded themselves with soldiers and hired guards. They moved not from within their own walls. And they could not save themselves. They died as I have described it to you.” “I have listened to pleasanter yarns. I am greatly obliged to ye,” and O’Shea was ready to take his departure. “I am afraid I will know no more unless Bill Maguire uncorks himself and confides the story of his life.” “When the time comes it will interest me greatly to be informed of it,” said the secretary, offering his hand.