He was a tall man, with a thin, yellow-skinned, emaciated face, cunning, oblong eyes, and flattish nose. His pigtail, of course--black hair craftily lengthened by thick twisted silk--was coiled on top of his head; and his dress, consisting of a dull blue blouse, wide trousers of the same colour, and thick, white-soled Chinese slippers, by no means added to his personal beauty. Standing before Naball, with an unctuous smile on his face, and his long, slender hands clasped in front of him, Ah Goon waited for the detective to speak. Naball glanced rapidly round the apartment, and not seeing Villiers, addressed himself to the stolid Celestial, who was looking slyly at him. "Ah Goon, where is the white man who comes here every night?" "Plenty he come allee muchee night--me no have seen," replied Ah Goon, blinking his black eyes. "Yes, I know that," retorted Naball quickly; "but this one is short--black hair and whiskers--smokes opium--drinks a lot--is called Villiers." Whether Ah Goon recognised the gentleman thus elegantly described was doubtful; at all events, he put on a stolid air. "Me no sabee," he answered. Naball held out a half-a crown, upon which Ah Goon fixed his eyes lovingly. "Where is he?" The money was too much for Ah Goon's cupidity, so he gave in. "Him playee fan-tan-ayah!" he answered, in a sing-song voice, "allee same." "Oh!" Mr. Naball did not waste any words, but threw the half-crown to the expectant Ah Goon, and turned towards the door. Just as he reached it there was a noise of hurried footsteps outside, and Villiers' voice, husky and savage, was heard,-- "Ah Goon, you yellow devil, where are you?" and there came a heavy kick at the door. In a moment Naball drew back into a shadowy corner, and placed his finger on his lips to ensure silence, a pantomime which the intelligent Ah Goon understood at once. Villiers opened the door and lurched noisily into the room, stopping for a minute on the threshold, dazed by the yellow, smoky glare. "Here, you, Ah Goon," he cried, catching sight of the Chinaman, "I want some money--more money." "Ah Goon no have," murmured that individual, clutching his half-crown. "I've lost all I had on that infernal fan-tan of yours," shrieked Villiers, not heeding him; "but my luck must change--give me another fiver." "Ah Goon no have," reiterated the Chinaman, edging away from the excited Villiers. "Curse your no have," he said fiercely; "why, I've only had twenty pounds from you, and those diamonds were worth fifty." Diamonds! Naball pricked up his ears at this. He was winning after all. Kitty did not steal her jewels, but this was the thief, or perhaps an accomplice. "Give me more money," cried Villiers, lurching forward, and would have laid his hand on the shoulder of the shrinking Chinaman, when Naball stepped out of his corner. "What's the matter?" he asked, in his silky voice.