Extravagant as this threat might appear, Burroughs knew that it was by no means unheard-of for a Chinaman, smarting under a sense of injustice, to commit suicide on the threshold of the man who had injured him. He was considering whether he had not better get up and prevent the horrid deed, when Errington, who occupied the next room, came in by the communicating door. "You’re in for it, old chap," he said, laughing. "The receiver’s as bad as the thief, you know, and there’s going to be trouble about that moustache of yours." He picked up the moustache from the dressing-table, and dangled it before Burroughs’ disgusted eyes. "Hang it all!" cried Burroughs, "I had absolutely nothing to do with it. Sing Wen is the culprit." "Qui facit per alium----" "Oh, shut up! He wasn’t my agent." "You’ll find it hard to prove that after giving him a hundred dollars. Better see the fellow and save scandal. I’ll stand by you, Moley." Burroughs got out of bed, muttering anathemas, threw on his dressing-gown, and went to the door, followed by Errington. The sight of the grinning China boy waiting there with his shaving-can exasperated him, and Chin Tai shrank against the wall before his master’s glare. They went down-stairs. On the step at the outer door squatted the sleek form of the highly respectable brother-in-law of Sing Wen’s brother. He rose and kow-towed humbly. "Now, what do you want?" said Burroughs sternly. "My velly solly come this time wakee up hon’ble genelum," said the man. "My catchee plenty smart inside. Sing Wen he pay-lo hantun[#] dolla fo’ Toitsche genelum moustachee. Mandalin he makee my pay-lo hantun dolla squeeze.[#] My catchee nuffin, losee my numpa one cutsoma; he no belongey my shop no mo’e. Hai! plenty bad pidgin. Wuss pidgin all-same. My pay-lo barber fella tin[#] dolla fo’ fixee moustachee. My losee hantun dolla one time, ’nother time tin dolla; my tinkee hon’ble genelum pay-lo tin dolla, my wailo all plopa inside." [#] Hundred. [#] Fine. [#] Ten. "That’s only fair," said Errington in a laughing undertone to Burroughs. "You don’t want the poor chap to be absolutely out of pocket over the business." "It might be worse," growled Burroughs. "I’ll give you a chit[#] to Sing Wen to pay you ten dollars. That’ll satisfy you?" [#] Note. "My savvy hon’ble genelum numpa one fella," cried the delighted man, bowing to the ground. "I say, what’ll you give me for this?" asked Errington, producing the moustache from behind his back. The Chinaman stared. His eyes gleamed. "Hai! My pay-lo fifty dolla," he exclaimed. "Takee wailo tin dolla, forty dolla lef behind." He opened his money pouch and counted out the notes. "My savvy catchee plenty good pidgin, galaw!" "Don’t offer it to Mr. Reinhardt, you know," said Errington, as the man pocketed the moustache. "My savvy plopa pidgin," said the man with a leer, and shuffled away.