“But not all,” answered a quiet voice. He looked up startled. Before him, in the centre of the room, with his arms folded so that his hands were concealed in his sleeves, stood Soo T’si, and there was a smile upon his face which was not pleasant to see. “Don’t touch your revolver,” he said, “for I can shoot you through my sleeve with the greatest of ease.” “I thought you were in America,” stammered De Costa. “I suppose you did,” said the other. He spoke easily in English, a fact which he evidently thought called for some comment. “I have been speaking nothing but Chinese for the last week or two,” he said, “and I was afraid of my English getting stale. Do you mind if I practise it on you?” He was so affable, and so friendly, that De Costa lost some of his misapprehension. “I am glad to see you,” he said. “I was afraid you had got into serious trouble.” Soo shook his head. “No, indeed,” he said lightly, “one never gets into serious trouble; I got into a particularly foul canal, which compares very favourably with some of the streams of my native land.” He did not attempt to sit down; he did not even move from where he stood, or change his attitude. “What are your plans?” asked De Costa. “I suppose you know that the police are searching for you?” Soo nodded. “I have reason to believe that they are,” he said sardonically. “Can I be of any assistance to you?” asked De Costa. Soo shook his head. “I’m afraid that you are absolutely useless to me,” he said quietly. “What is that interesting document you have there?” De Costa would have snatched up the translation from the table, but there was a cold menace in the Chinaman’s eye which prevented him. “It’s a little thing,” he said vaguely. “So I see,” replied the other. “Turn it round so that I can read it, please.” Like a man fascinated, De Costa obeyed, and Soo took a step nearer the table. He read the sheet through carefully, without moving his hands from the inside of his sleeves, and De Costa wondered why, until he remembered that Soo had threatened him with a concealed pistol. “You don’t seem to trust me.” De Costa put a note of reproach into his voice. “I have very good reasons for not trusting you, De Costa. The last time I was here you swore to me that you had not seen this document, that you had no idea as to where it was. I have discovered since,” he went on meditatively, “that you had it all the time, and that you were directly responsible for the treachery of my men, and indirectly for the death of my brother; you told your servants to bring the paper to you at any cost--my brother’s life paid for that order.” His voice was even and colourless, and he spoke like a man who was reciting a lesson. “You are wrong--you are wrong,” protested De Costa violently. “I know nothing whatever about it. This paper only came to me a few days ago. I tried to find you----” Soo shook his head.