“Are you sure of that?” demanded O’Shea. “Could you swear to it?” “I remimber him as plain as I see you,” testily returned Paddy Blake. “He was not in me place often. ’Twas too rough for him.” “And did you ever chance to hear what had become of him?” The little man tapped O’Shea’s arm with an eloquent finger and replied in lower tones: “It comes back to me that there was a yarn about him. ’Twas gossip, ye understand, nawthin’ that ye could put your finger on. Shanghai is a great place for wild stories. The Shanghai liar is a special breed, and he is famous all over the world. Annyhow, there was a voyage of the _Tai Yan_ steamer when he didn’t come to port in her. Shortly after that she broke her back on a reef in the Formosa Channel and all hands was lost, so I never heard anny news from her people about this Jim Eldridge.” “That was most unfortunate,” said O’Shea; “but I am in great luck to get track of the man at all. And have you anybody in mind that might have known Eldridge when he was sailing on this coast?” The volatile Paddy Blake who saw so many mariners pass through his place during the year was mentally sifting his recollections which were many and confusing. The big red-headed man had steered clear of rum and riot and was no steady frequenter of this unholy resort. Obviously he had made no more than a passing impression on Paddy Blake, but the old man was honestly anxious to splice the broken ends of the story, and after painful cogitation he broke out again: “There is one man that ye should find by all means. He may be dead by now, for the liquor had harrd hold of him. I have not seen or heard of him in a long while, but he wint north from here. I mind the last time he come in me place. Pretty well pickled he was, and some o’ the lads were yarnin’ with him, and there was talk of this Jim Eldridge. Be gob! ’twas then I heard the queer gossip, in bits, d’ ye see? There had been a ruction somewheres up beyant”--and Paddy Blake waved a hand to the northward--“and this man I mintion had been mixed in it with Jim Eldridge. But when they would urge him to unwind the story he would turn ugly and shut up like an oyster, half-seas-over though he was. He was a great one for messin’ about among the Chinese, and could patter two or three dialects. A scholar and gentleman was McDougal.” “McDougal!” roared O’Shea, taken all aback by the coincidence. “Why, man alive, this same McDougal was in your place to-night and left not an hour ago. He has just come down the coast, from Tientsin and Che-Foo.” “’Tis a pity ye let him get away. If he wanders into the Chinese city amongst some of thim native friends of his ’twill be the divil and all to find him again. So he’s still alive!” “I sat and talked with him and he discoursed nightmares.” “He has lived thim,” said Paddy Blake.