+---------------------------------+ | THE MOONLIGHT RESTS IN WHITE | | | | PURITY UPON THE GARDEN OF ROSES | +---------------------------------+ And out of the patrol, axe and pistol in hand, had tumbled a half-dozen stalwart officers,--after them, Yee Wing. There were shrill, warning cries from the street. Shriller cries--the cries of panic-stricken women--answered from the tiny, barred windows above the entrance door. Then, interspersed with lusty Celtic commands, sounded the ring of the axe. One, two, three minutes--and the bluecoats burst their way through the bolted doors and into the main room of the den. Under them, over them, on either hand, they caught the noise of hurried flight, a frightened rat-like scurrying. Before them was a room dim-lit and heavy with the odour of opium and incense. Dirty cushions were thrown about. Stools and tables were overturned. To one side lay a three-stringed banjo. The occupants had fled. Not all. Past the cluster of white men sprang Yee Wing, across the dark room, to a little huddled heap on the floor beyond. It was she, still wearing the loose, purple trousers and the cherry-hued jacket. Upon the jacket, circling a bony handle thrust upright, was a growing stain--deeper than cherry hue. The officers rushed on, doubly eager to track, now that there had been a murder. One stayed a moment and would have drawn the weapon from Yee Chu’s breast, but Yee Wing would not let him. With it would go out the last spark of life. Alone together, the Powder-man did not sink beside his wife. His face did not show either grief or anger. He only looked at her, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. Her eyes opened, she saw him, and smiled faintly. “Esteemed,” she whispered, “Esteemed, it is the time of the tea-harvest!” He knew that she was thinking of the hills of Hupeh. “Ah, Jasmine Blossom,” he answered, “graceful as a leaf and as sweetly scented.” She smiled again. “Possessor of All the Virtues,”--her voice was so low he could scarcely hear--“but I am heavily sick. Forgive me that I cannot live to be the mother of your first-born.” And, with that, her eyelids drooped. They came back into the room then, empty-handed. Quietly, sadly, they gathered about the two. Yee Wing looked around the circle. He spoke no word, but there was a terrible light in his blood-shot eyes. Then, he turned about and went down the stairway. Again, his right hand was in his wide left sleeve, his left hand in the right one. * * * * * The Collector of Monies, making leisurely toward his favourite barber-shop, was conscious of a figure--almost a shadow, so uncertain was it--that appeared and disappeared behind him. He stopped every few feet to look over his shoulder. But, through the ever moving procession of the pavement, he could see no one that seemed to be following.