"Very little," replied the house-surgeon. "They entered, as students there--we have several foreigners--about last Christmas--perhaps at the New Year. All that I know of them is that they were like most Easterns--very quiet, unassuming, inoffensive fellows, very assiduous in their studies and duties, never giving any trouble, and very punctual in their attendance." "And, you say, they haven't been seen at the hospital for some days?" continued Ayscough. "Now, can you tell me--it's important--since what precise date they've been absent?" The house-surgeon reflected for a moment--then he suddenly drew out a small memorandum book from an inner pocket. "Perhaps I can," he answered, turning the pages over. "Yes--both these men should have been in attendance on me--a class of my own, you know--on the 20th, at 10.35. They didn't turn up. I've never seen them since--in fact, I'm sure they've never been at the hospital since." "The 20th?" observed Ayscough. He looked at Melky, who was paying great attention to the conversation. "Now let's see--old Mr. Multenius met his death on the afternoon of the 18th. Parslett was poisoned on the night of the 19th. Um!" "And Parslett was picked up about half-way between the Chink's house and his own place, Mr. Ayscough--don't you forget that!" muttered Melky. "I'm not forgetting--don't you make no error!" "You don't know anything more that you could tell us about these two?" asked the detective, nodding reassuringly at Melky and then turning to the house-surgeon. "Any little thing?--you never know what helps." "I can't!" said the house-surgeon, who was obviously greatly surprised by what he had seen and heard. "These Easterns keep very much to themselves, you know. I can't think of anything." "Don't know anything of their associates--friends--acquaintances?" suggested Ayscough. "I suppose they had some--amongst your students?" "I never saw them in company with anybody--particularly--except a young Japanese who was in some of their classes," replied the house-surgeon. "I have seen them talking with him--in Gower Street." "What's his name?" asked Ayscough, pulling out a note-book. "Mr. Mori Yada," answered the house-surgeon promptly. "He lives in Gower Street--I don't know the precise number of the house. Yes, that's the way to spell his name. He's the only man I know who seemed to know these two." "Have you seen him lately?" asked Ayscough. "Oh, yes--regularly--today, in fact," said the house-surgeon. He waited a moment in evident expectation of other questions; as the detective asked none--"I gather," he remarked, "that Chang Li has disappeared?" "The house these two occupied is empty," replied Ayscough. "I am going to suggest something," said the house-surgeon. "I know--from personal observation--that there is a tea-shop in Tottenham Court Road--a sort of quiet, privately-owned place--Pilmansey's--which these two used to frequent. I don't know if that's of any use to you?"