"This not for you, Moon Ying," I reassured her. "Bad man come, anyhow. Plenty of that kind outside of Chinatown." Moon Ying shook her head and pointed to Danny Regan. "Him Li’l John’s explessman--I sabby him many time come Li’l John’s place." I looked at Danny Regan’s low-browed countenance, and realized that an attack of the highbinders’ mercenaries had been made under cover of the larger attack of Bolton’s hirelings and the anti-Chinese mob. "I think you’re right, Moon Ying," I said. "But just you sabby this: bad men in front of house, they no come from Little John; they were after Mr. Kendrick. You can claim those fellows behind the house. But you see we are no worse off for having you here. ’Twas the other fellows who broke the windows." I was just on the point of interrogating Danny Regan as to the inspiring cause of his raid when I heard Wharton Kendrick’s voice rise in querulous tones: "Here, I must get up," he said with evident effort. "Is the city on fire?" "After a while," said the soothing voice of the doctor. "The city is all safe, and you’ll have to wait till to-morrow before you get out." "I must look after things to-night," said the patient, his voice rising complainingly. "I must look after things." I got to my feet and walked softly to his couch. He was vainly trying to rise, and beating the air helplessly with his hands. "I must get out--help me, somebody!" he cried in an appealing voice. He tried to lift himself, but his body refused to obey his will. The doctor uttered a soothing protest. Miss Kendrick added her voice to the authority of the doctor and at her quieting words Wharton Kendrick closed his eyes. Then on a sudden he opened them widely, and again attempted to raise his head. "It’s the business--it’s the business!" he cried with the voice of one who had brought a forgotten thing from the depths of his memory. "It’s all upset. I must see to it, or it will be too late." She patted him again with gentle hand. "There--there," she said, in the comforting mother-tone. "It will be all right. You can’t do anything to-night. It’s after ten o’clock." He gave a groan. "The markets will go to smash in the morning unless we get ready for them to-night. It’s all up," he moaned. "It was all in my head, and it’s all gone. There’ll be a smash in the market to-morrow, and I can’t help it." Then he broke into passionate sobbing, while Laura Kendrick knelt over him, wiped away his tears, and made above him those murmuring sounds with which the mother comforts the hurt child. It was with something of the awe with which one meets the earthquake that I witnessed the collapse of the fortitude and self-control in Wharton Kendrick. The foundations of the earth seemed breaking up when I saw this type of self-reliant manhood whimpering and weeping like a whipped schoolboy. Doctor Roberts had been attending to Danny Regan of the broken leg, but he now returned to his more demonstrative patient.