At the same moment the "washee-washee" man stepped to the doorway, and I was startled to find myself looking into the face of Big Sam. He was dressed in the coarse blue jeans and trousers of the Chinese working-man, his hat was drawn down over his eyes, and his face was of a darker hue than I remembered it. But the man shone through his disguise as plainly as the sun shines through colored glass. I recovered from my surprise in an instant, and halted him in the outer room. "This is a lucky meeting," I said. "I have been wondering whether I ought to report to you about your ward. She is badly hurt, but is now out of danger." The man glanced at me with expressionless eye. "I no sabby you," he said with the true coolie accent. "What you wan’?" "Oh," I returned, repressing my amusement at this preposterous attempt to deceive me, "if Kwan Sam Suey, sometimes known as Big Sam, doesn’t want to hear what I have to say, I am in no hurry to say it." "No sabby Big Sam," said the Chinaman gruffly. "And I should really like to know," I said, lowering my voice, "what Big Sam is doing with Mr. Bolton." "I no sabby Missah Bolton," growled the Oriental. "You don’t ’sabby’ the man you’ve just been talking with?" "I no sabby him name. I no sabby you’ name. I sabby him one man--I sabby you ’nothe’ man. I come sell him lotte’y ticket. You likee buy lotte’y ticket?" This appeared to be an excellent chance to trap the wily Oriental. I replied that I would risk twenty-five cents on his game, and waited with a smile for the excuse that would be invented to put me off. But Big Sam had made up for his part with more attention to detail than I had supposed. At my word he calmly drew forth from his capacious sleeve a blank ticket and a marking brush. "I make you good ticket," he said gravely, marking ten of the squares. "You sabby Kwan Luey?" "Yes, I sabby Kwan Luey." He was one of the big merchants of Chinatown, and among other things did a brisk banking and lottery business among his countrymen. "Dlawing to-mollow," said the Chinaman. "You take ’em ticket Kwan Luey you get ’em heap big money." And with a brusk nod he was gone. I stared after him in perplexity. My eyes were never more certain of anything than of the identity of this man with Big Sam. And yet he had carried off his imposture with such assurance that, for a moment after he had disappeared, I was shaken in my conviction. But it was only for a moment. With a glance at the paper in my hand and with a recollection of his parting words, certainty returned, and I was convinced that the ticket was an order on Kwan Luey for money. Was Big Sam trying to bribe me, or was he attempting thus to provide for the expenses of the Chinese girl? Nothing had been said on the delicate point of meeting her charges for food, care and lodging. Possibly he had chosen this eccentric way of putting the money in my hands.