The Chinaman was unconscious and Carver looked around for the second visitant. He rushed to the gate, the road was deserted. Flinging himself upon the roadway to secure an artificial skyline, he peered first in one direction and then in the other. Presently he saw his man running swiftly in the cover of the hedges and started in pursuit. A hundred yards away from the house was a secondary road, and into this the runner turned. As Carver reached the corner he heard a motor-car engine and dimly saw the bulk of a large touring car retreating rapidly. He came back to the house to find Yeh Ling sitting in Ursula’s room holding his head in his hands. “This is the second man; it isn’t the wide-awake gentleman,” said Carver. “Now, Yeh Ling, give an account of your actions. How are you feeling?” “Pretty dizzy,” said Yeh Ling and to Tab’s surprise his tone was that of a cultured man, his English faultless. He looked up at the girl reproachfully. “You did not tell me these gentlemen were coming down, Miss Ardfern, when you wrote to me,” he said. “I hadn’t any idea when I wrote, that they were coming, Yeh Ling,” she answered. “If I had been here a little earlier I should have seen him,” he said. “As it was, I am afraid I have spoiled your evening, Mr. Carver.” His expressionless brown eyes looked up at the detective. “I see! You were on guard too, were you?” said Carver good-humouredly. “Yes, we seem to have made a mess of it between us. Did you see the man?” “I didn’t see him,” said Yeh Ling, “but,” he added, “I felt him,” and he rubbed his head. “I think it must have been his fist. I did not notice any weapon.” “You didn’t see his face?” persisted Carver. “No, he had a beard of some kind. I felt it as my hands clutched at him. I am afraid I over-estimated my strength,” he said apologetically to the girl, “yet there was a time when I was a star performer at Harvard, in the days when Chinese students were something of a curiosity.” “Harvard?” said Tab in surprise. “Great Moses--I thought you were a--” he couldn’t very well finish his sentence. But the other helped him. “You thought I was a very ordinary Chink?” he said. “Possibly I am. I hope I am,” he said. “Certainly Miss Ardfern knew me when I was a very poor Chink! We lodged in the same house, she will remember, and she placed me under an eternal obligation by saving the life of my son.” Then Tab remembered the little Chinese boy Ursula had nursed when she herself was little more than a child. Remembering this, a great many things which had been obscure to him, became clear and understandable. “I had no idea you would come tonight, Yeh Ling, but you begged me if I was in any kind of difficulty to let you know,” she said. “You shouldn’t have taken the trouble.”