“So I think, though her feet be as big as the feet of a Tartar woman.” They surveyed the attractive young lady with the judgment of merchants both. “It nears the time for my going,” said Tau Lot, his Oriental dislike of coming to the point in business overweighed by the dread of wasting time that belonged to the pipe. “So what of the collect to-day?” Chow Loo ran a hand into the pocket of his blue broadcloth breeches. “From Berkeley, where I led my contemptible way, eighteen dollars,--so much owed the washer of clothes. From Oakland, six, and the vender of vegetables sends his lowly greeting. But the Powder-man at Sather was as naked of coin as a robber. See--here is only a button from his coat!” “The debt is owed since the Ninth Moon.” “So I said--Yes, the round one would be worth fully eight hundred.” The attractive young lady had come closer, anxious for a near view of the Bazar-man. A clerk accompanied her, advancing at the farther side of the counter as she advanced, but taking no trouble to display his wares. “So I said,” repeated the Collector of Monies. Then, with a meaning glance at the Bazar-man, for an honourable younger brother was at the latter’s elbow. “But though he is so miserably poor, he grows a rose,--one more beautiful than a man of his rank should have. In your crowded garden is there room for another such?” Instantly, Tau Lot’s slant eyes narrowed in their slits, his ponderous body lost its attitude of indolence. He stepped down from his stool with alacrity. “You will have a taste of steamed rice,” he said, “--rice savoured with salt fish--and a cup of hot samschu at my despicable board.” And he led the way to the rear room. The Collector of Monies followed, and the two seated themselves at a table, where a servant brought food and rice-wine. And here, nose to nose, they chattered low, gesticulated, haggled. “How far is it to Sather?” asked the Bazar-man. “Near to thirty _li_. One can reach there in an hour.” The Collector of Monies proudly displayed a large, nickel-plated watch. “But still--the price is too high.” “O Magnificent One! for a little-foot woman? Her dowry was at the lowest fifty taels. Doubtless, that was what beggared him. She is truly a picked beauty, a very pearl.” “It is settled then. The half will be paid when the rose is plucked, the second half when the filthy foreign police accept a commission and promise no interference.” * * * * * At sundown, a few days later, the superintendent at Pinole heard the bell of his telephone summoning him. The receiver at his ear, he caught the petulant “Well, wait a minnit, can’t y’?” of the operator and, punctuating it, a weak gasping, as if some one in agony were at the distant transmitter. “What is it?” demanded the superintendent. “This is Bingham.”