"Well," said Mark, stretching a hand for his pipe, thinking his visitor had come to pay a friendly call, "I'm glad to see you, Fong, and I'm ready to talk all the storlies you want. So fire away." Fong considered, studying his hat, then said slowly: "You velly good man, Mist Bullage, and you lawyer. You know what to do--I dunno no one same likey you. Miss Lolly and Miss Clist two young ladies--not their business. And Missy Ellen"--he paused for a second and gave a faint sigh--"Missy Ellen velly fine old lady, but no sense. My old boss's fliends most all dead, new lawyers take care of his money. They say to me, 'Get out, old Chinaman!' But you don't say that. So I come to you." Mark's hand, extended to the tobacco jar at his elbow, fell to the chair arm; the easy good humor of his expression changed to attention. "Oh, you've come for advice. I'll be glad to help you any way I can. Let's hear the trouble." Again the Chinaman considered, fingering delicately at his hatbrim. "My old boss awful good to me. He die and no more men in the house. I take care my boss's children--I care all ways I can. Old Chinaman can't do much but I watch out. And one man come that I no likey. I know you good boy, I know all the lest good boys, but Mist Mayer bad man." "Mayer!" exclaimed Mark. "The man I met there the other night?" "Ally samey him." "What do you mean by 'bad'?" "I come tell you tonight." "You know something definite against him?" "Yes. I find out. I try long time--one, two months--and bimeby I get him. Then he not come for a while and I say maybe he not come any more and I keep my mouth shut. But when you there last time he come again and I go tell what I know." "You've found out something that makes you think he isn't a fit person to have in the house ?" "Yes--I go velly careful, no one know but Chinamen. Two Chinamen help me--one Chinaman get another Chinaman and we catch on. I no tell Miss Lolly, she too young; I come tell you." Mark leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Say, Fong, I'm a little mixed up about this. Suppose you go to the beginning and give me the whole thing. If you and this chain of China boys have got something on Mayer I want to hear it. I'm not surprised that you think him a 'bad man,' but I want to know why you do." What Fong told cannot be given in his own words, recited in his pidgin English, broken by cautions of secrecy and digressions as to the impracticability of enlightening his young ladies. It was a story only to be comprehended by one familiar with his peculiar phraseology, and understanding the complex mental processes and intricate methods of his race. Condensed and translated, it amounted to this: