"Huh," replied Burgh, uncomfortably, "I guess that's my business. I told you I wasn't a saint." "I suspect you're a thorough paced gaol-bird." "No, I ain't been in quod. Where I cavorted round, in the Naked Lands, they don't shove a man in chokey for every trifle." "Such as murder. Eh?" "I haven't murdered anyone yet," confessed Clarence, easily, "but one never knows. But I told about Forge last night, as I wanted to get this thousand. Now I'll try for the fan, and see if I can't get the fifteen thousand to come my way. If Forge cuts up rough, I'll light out with what I have"--he slapped his pockets--"for Callao," and he began to sing the old song:-- "On no occasion, is extradition, Allowed in Callao." And I know a daisy of a girl out there," said the scamp, winking. Ainsleigh was too disgusted to speak. He felt that as he was as big a ruffian as Burgh, to tolerate this conversation, and he was relieved when the train steamed into Marport station. As soon as it stopped he jumped out, and nodding to his companion, he was about to take his leave, when Clarence stopped him. "Say. You won't round on Forge till I get this fan business settled." "I intend to write to Rodgers to-day," said Ainsleigh, tartly, "bad as your aunt is, she shan't marry that scoundrel if I can help it." "But I only know Forge got the scarf as I told you. He mightn't have scragged her y'know. He says he didn't." "And relied on what he knows of you to keep things quiet. No, Mr. Burgh, I intend to have the man arrested," and Rupert turned away, while Clarence, apparently not at all disturbed, went away whistling his Callao ditty. Rupert drove to Royabay and was welcomed with joy by his wife. She was much alarmed when she saw his condition, and was very angry when he told of his danger. She made him lie down, and bathed the wound, of which Rupert made light. "It's nothing, dear," he said. "It might be dangerous. There might have been poison on that knife, Rupert. You know what the Chinese are." "No, Olivia, I certainly don't. All this business of the fan and the god Kwang-ho is most ridiculous." "Tell me all about it," said Olivia, when she had placed a tray, with tea and toast, before him. "I shall do so at once, as I want your advice," and Rupert related all that had occurred from the time of his meeting with Clarence Burgh in the train on the previous night. Olivia listened in silence. "Well," asked Rupert, drinking his tea, "what do you think?" "I think Mr. Burgh is a scoundrel." "Anyone can see that!" "And worthy of his aunt." "Perhaps. She's a bad one that Miss Pewsey, but she may not know what a rascal she has for a relative. And at all events, I can't let her marry Forge. Do you believe he is guilty?" "He might be," said Olivia cautiously, "but I would much rather believe that Burgh gave the tie to his aunt and that she strangled aunt Sophia."