“Why do you lie?” he said. “To me, who come from the land of liars, and am skilled in their detection. I know, because the two men you employed, and whom I have been tracking for the last three weeks, have confessed.” “Confessed!” gasped De Costa. Soo nodded slowly. “But they have just left,” stammered the other. “They have not left,” said Soo quietly, and withdrew his hands from the veiling sleeves. De Costa went as white as death, for the hands of Soo T’si were scarlet with blood.… * * * * * Twenty minutes later a constable slowly patrolling his beat came to the front of the house De Costa occupied, and automatically threw the light of his lamp over the front door. It seemed in order, and he passed on. He had not gone a dozen yards when he heard a sharp crack, and turned to see a tongue of fire leap from the window of the house he had passed, for even as he had stood watching it, the flames were eating their way through the wooden shutters which covered the window, and the body of old De Costa lay wrapped in a fiery sheet. CHAPTER XVI. IN THE CITY OF HOO-SIN. The landscape which the travellers beheld was an especially uninviting one; the country was flat, except about the horizon, where a range of low hills were half veiled in mist. Dreary paddy fields stretched left and right, and the roadway that led down into the village from the slope on which they stood was little more than an uneven track. “That is our objective,” said one of the horsemen. He looked around for the escort and the mule caravan which was following leisurely behind. There was no sign of either. Five _li_ back there was a particularly difficult piece of road to negotiate, and he gathered that with true Chinese philosophy and imperturbability, the muleteers were waiting for the rain to stop. “That is the village of Cha-k’eo,” said the taller of the men. They were both dressed in the conventional costume of China--thick felt shoes and white stockings, wadded silk coats and padded skirts. On the breast of one was embroidered a fantastic pheasant, and on the top of his little cap he wore a sky-blue button. That same button had carried them through many seemingly impossible situations. “It will be raining again in a minute,” said Talham with a glance at the sky. “Let us see what Cha-k’eo offers in the way of accommodation.” He cantered down the slope, his sure-footed pony making light of the natural obstacles in the path, and trotted through the one grimy street of the grimy village, ankle deep in black mud. He drew rein before a dwelling which might have been, in a western clime, a respectable cattle shed. There were two big windows, one of which was half filled up with loose flat bricks, and the other denude of any covering. The door gave entrance to the uninviting interior, but before he could reach the door the proprietor came out. “How far are we from Shan Shi?” demanded Talham.