On my arrival, I found the house in confusion. There was sound of excited voices within, and, as I touched the bell, a servant rushed out and down the steps without taking time to close the door. I entered without ceremony, and a moment later met Laura Kendrick coming down the stairs, her face clouded with fear and indignation. "Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come!" she said with a gasp of relief, and the look of fear faded out of her eyes. "We’ve been scared out of a year’s growth, and it’s one of the mercies of Providence that we haven’t lost Moon Ying. It’s not often I’ve wanted to be a policeman, but I did to-day." "Well, I’ll be your policeman, if you’ll only tell me what it’s all about." "It’s a comfort to have you say so, but I’m afraid you’re too late. He must be ever so far away by this time." "Who is it? What has happened?" I demanded eagerly. "Somebody tried to steal Moon Ying--that’s what has happened," said Laura Kendrick indignantly. "Who did it? When? Did they attack the house?" I cried, startled at the promptness with which my warnings had been fulfilled. "Come right up-stairs," said Laura, impulsively seizing my arm and leading me. "You shall hear at first-hand for yourself." This sudden captivity gave me so pleasant a thrill that for a moment I forgot Moon Ying and my responsibilities, and betrayed such inclination to loiter that I was sharply ordered to "walk faster." So in a minute or two I found myself entering a room where Moon Ying, with pale and frightened face, leaned back among the pillows that covered a reclining chair, and Mercy Fillmore, at Moon Ying’s side, looked at us with anxious eyes. "This is Mr. Hampden, Moon Ying--the man who rescued you from Chinatown," said Laura. "Tell him what happened to you." Moon Ying’s resources of English were scant at best, and between fright, excitement and shyness, it took much prompting and explanation from Laura and Mercy before her story was fairly begun. But when all the tangled threads were straightened out the tale ran thus: Moon Ying had of late spent an hour or two in the middle of the day, taking the air and the sun, on the lawn behind the house. An hour before she had been assisted to her sunny corner by Mercy, who had, after a time, returned to the house. Suddenly the back gate had opened, and a Chinaman had slipped in. "How many?" I demanded. "One--jus’ one," replied Moon Ying. "How him look?" "Him small man--old man--all same Chung Toy you one time see," said Moon Ying in her plaintive voice. The picture of Little John with his wizened face, his white, horse-hair mustache and his scant chin-whiskers, rose before me. "Did he come alone?" I asked, incredulous of his boldness in venturing thus by himself.