As I passed the threshold I was overwhelmed with amazement. Instead of the bare walls and dingy cobwebbed den the entrance had led me to expect, I was ushered into a room fitted up with a wealth of decoration and discomfort that was thoroughly oriental. The walls were covered with woven tapestry, grotesque in figures and bright with colors. Dark cabinets, rich with carving, stood about the room; the desk and chairs showed the patient handicraft of the Ancient Empire; the floor was inlaid with varied woods, and beaten brass and copper were freely used for decorative effect. To the western mind the colors and the ornamentation were garish, yet I could see that the fittings were costly and a striking example of Chinese artistic taste. Big Sam waved me to a seat and took his place at the desk. "I assume, Mr. Hampden, that you did not come here out of idle curiosity?" "That depends," said I, repressing with difficulty the instinct to address him in the "pidgin" dialect. "You might call it curiosity, and idle at that; but it is of some concern to me." "I can believe it," he said politely. "But before I enter on the errand that brings me here, I should present you with my credentials." And I handed him the card from Kendrick. He scarcely glanced at it. "Any friend of Mr. Kendrick’s is welcome to any service in my power to give," he said, with a bow. "I have a paper written in your tongue that I should like explained to me," I said, bringing forth the sheet and unfolding it. Big Sam leaned across the desk to receive it. I put it in his hand and kept one eye on his face, the other on the sheet of paper. There was no trace of surprise on the bronze mask of the Oriental. For an instant I thought I could detect a shadow of the stolid "no-sabby" look of the coolie, but it was gone with the dropping of an eyelid. There was before me only the grave, impassive face of the Chinese merchant. "What is the difficulty?" he asked with a polite smile, after he had glanced over the paper. "The difficulty is that none of your countrymen seems to be able to translate it." "I can not believe it." "I have asked a dozen." "They were very busy." The voice was a combination of assertion and inquiry, but my ear warned me of something mocking in it, too. "They concealed it most successfully, if they were," I retorted. Big Sam smiled again, and took up the paper. It slipped from his hand and fluttered to the floor. "Excuse my clumsiness," he said, diving after it. I sprang around the corner of the desk to assist in recovering it, and dropped to one knee. "I beg your pardon," I said, catching at the paper that Big Sam was stowing away in his capacious sleeve. "I believe this is the document." And I held it up. "I think not," said Big Sam, straightening up and looking me blandly in the eye. "I believe this is it." And he handed me another paper with a bewildering maze of Chinese characters straggling across it.