There came one astonished look from Bartley, and he burst out: “What cross? What under heavens are you talking about?” It had never dawned upon me Bartley did not know about the two faint lines which had been scratched into the dead man's forehead. And then I remembered he had read only the newspaper accounts and they had not mentioned the cross. The coroner even had not brought it to the attention of the jury. So I told him what I had found. For some reason it seemed to interest him even more than I had expected. He asked a hundred questions, and in the end became very thoughtful. At last he turned to Ranville: “You're right,” he said. “The Chinaman never killed Warren. No man of that race I have ever known has marked his victim after death in such a manner. They will torture their victims sometimes with fiendish cruelty. They will put them to death in the most devilish and grewsome fashions, but they do not mark them in that way. You are right I guess, Ranville. It was not a crime committed by any Chinaman. It might have been a crime committed by another type of person. The sort that—” Suddenly the telephone broke in on him with a long shrill ring, stopped for a second and then rang again. With a little look of astonishment Bartley rose from his chair and went out to answer it. We heard his voice as he talked but could not distinguish the words. When he returned to the room, there was a little grin on his face as he turned to Ranville. “You are right once more.” The Englishman's eyebrows lifted, and Bartley half laughed. “The chief just called. The Chinaman got away from them. They reached the station all right but in some manner I don't just understand how it was, he managed to slip out of their grasp. He just asked me what to do.” He paused a moment, listening to the clock which was now striking four; then he yawned and said: “I told the chief the best thing to do was to go home and go to bed. He won't find that man to-night. I doubt if he ever finds him. And what's more, I am going myself to take the advice I gave.” He started for the hall, and as Ranville rose, I followed his example. We locked the door and went rather wearily up the stairs. Ranville yawned a good night at our door, and a moment later I was in my bed. It had not only been an exciting night, but also a very perplexing one. For a while I tried to puzzle out the happenings of the evening. Then realizing how tired I was, I turned over and went to sleep. It was the sun streaming through the open window which awakened me the next morning. For a while I lay thinking over the events of the night before. Then the sound of people in the room below came faintly to my ears. Rising, I took a quick shower and went down to the dining room. To my surprise, the first person I saw when I reached the door was Carter. Across the table from Bartley he was laughing at something that had been said.