He was above medium height, and pallid even for a Chinaman. His high cheekbones and thin, straight lips, gave him sinister appearance, yet he was by no means bad-looking, for the nose was straight and well proportioned to the face. He wore no _queue_, and his black hair was brushed back in the style affected by the youth of England. His eyes were larger than the average, set about in a void face--void of emotion, of the expression and capacity for feeling. Whatever humility convention may have dictated on his arrival, he had no false views on the question of his equality for the man who sat at the desk, for he leant over, lifted the lid of a silver box, and extracted a cigarette. “Well,” asked Mr. de Costa, blotting a letter he had written, “what is the news?” The man he called Soo shook his head as he applied a light to the cigarette. “I come to you for news,” he said. “In my humble circle we talk of nothing more interesting than the surprising results which follow a game of Fan-tan.” “Where did you pick up your English?” asked De Costa irritably. It is never pleasant to know that one whom in your heart you grade below your own intellectual level is your superior in scholastic attainments. “I picked it up in the place where one acquires much enlightenment,” said Soo carelessly. He blew a ring of smoke towards the ceiling, and watched it disappear. “You wouldn’t imagine,” said he, “that I was intended for the ministry; yet that is the fact. There were good people who thought I would make an ideal missionary, and by the force of my personality and the knowledge of my own people, wean them from the traditions and the philosophies of two thousand years to the half-hearted philosophies, imperfectly understood and imperfectly promulgated in twenty different ways by the intelligent people of this country.” De Costa said nothing. He was too wily a man to be drawn into a discussion on a subject with which he was not too well acquainted. Soo had an irritating trick of getting him out of his depths. “I understand you’ve got the bracelet,” said the Chinaman, and the other acknowledged the possession. He unlocked the drawer of his desk, and took out a steel box. From this he extracted the bangle which Talham had handed to his son. It was still in its paper wrapping, and Soo paused awhile before he removed the tissue. “It is very light for jade,” he said suspiciously. He threw the end of his cigarette into the fireplace with a quick movement of his hand, and stripped the ornament of its wrapper. He looked at it carefully, twisting the bangle about in his hand. “This is not jade,” he said. “Not jade,” repeated the merchant, and half rose from his chair. “Are you sure?” “This is celluloid,” said the calm Soo, “cleverly copied and possibly weighted to give it the appearance of jade.” He balanced it carefully on his hand; then he examined the gold bands. “Yes, as I thought,” he said, “the weight is in the gold.”