Well might he be surprised, for these were the two agents of his whom he thought were on their way to China, the men who called themselves “Happy Child” and “Hope of Spring”--who were wanted by the police for the murder of the Chinese Ambassador, and greatly wanted by Soo T’si, for the treacherous slaughter of their comrade--his brother. “Why do you come here?” he asked angrily. He spoke in the hissing Canton dialect. They shuffled uneasily, and the smaller of the two asked sullenly: “Where were we to go, master? Though we escaped the English police, yet Soo T’si has set his society against us, and we have been turned from one refuge to another.” “Why didn’t you leave the country?” “Lord, it was impossible,” said the other. “There were men watching boats and trains; we were warned.” “You can’t stay here!” said De Costa. They offered no alternative suggestion, and he led the way upstairs to his room. There they sat on the edge of the two chairs, forlorn, miserable, with that peculiar hunted, haggard look which criminals of all classes assume from necessity. “Soo is in America now,” said De Costa. “If he could get away, why shouldn’t you?” “Master, we were warned,” said the taller man again. “A servant from the boat told Hophee,” he gave the small man his nickname, “that they were looking for us.” De Costa’s mind worked quickly; he had been in some peculiarly dangerous situations before. He must get these men away as quickly as possible. “You want some money, I suppose,” he said, and the smaller man, who seemed to be the ruling spirit, answered monosyllably. De Costa turned out his pockets and gave him a handful of silver and gold. “Come to-morrow night,” he said, “at the same hour, and I will let you know exactly what plans I have made for you. Is there any danger until to-morrow?” The small man shook his head. “You will find your way out, you know the way,” said De Costa. “I will come down later and bolt the door after you.” Noiselessly the two men left the room, and De Costa sat at his desk in no enviable mood. He thought he heard the two men speaking together as they went down the stairs to the basement. In his state of tension he imagined that one had called to him sharply, and he opened the door and stepped out into the hall. “Did you speak?” he asked, and a voice from the basement answered briefly, “No.” He had waited to hear the door open, but realised that so perfectly had it been prepared for midnight visitors that no sound would reach him, and he returned to his desk again. These men must be got rid of at all hazards; he wondered how. Perhaps now that the attention had been directed towards Soo they might be smuggled out of the country. They had escaped Soo, that was something, for Soo would make short work of them if he knew how grossly he had been betrayed. The translation of the stolen document still lay on his desk before him, and he folded it up carefully. “This, at any rate, is something,” he said aloud.