"Ah. That's what we've got to find out. There was a yacht in Marport Harbour last night, which came at midday, and departed in a hurry after midnight. Burgh says he believes Tung-yu went away in her, after committing the murder." "Even if he did," said Rupert, calmly, "that does not show how the joss-stick came here, or why a Chinaman should be masquerading as a monk, for that, I take it, is your meaning." "It is. I believe there were other Chinamen on board that boat," was the detective's reply. "Perhaps this man Hwei came to the Abbey." "He might have come," said Ainsleigh, carelessly. "Or Tung-yu," went on Rodgers. "No," said the Major who had kept silent all this time, but had observed everything, "it was not Tung-yu's day." Rodgers turned on him. "What do you mean by that?" The Major settled himself more comfortably in his chair. "I'll tell you my adventure at Canton first," he said, "and then you may understand. I can't get to the bottom of the matter myself, for why Lo-Keong should have a private god of good luck is more than I can tell." The others looked at him, amazed at this queer speech. "What is this private god?" asked the detective. "I don't know, save that it is called Kwang-ho." Rupert started. "That was the god mentioned in the advertisement." "Yes, so it was," replied the Major, quietly, "but just you wait and hear my story. It may lead to something being discovered." "One moment, Mr. Ainsleigh. Show me the advertisement." Rupert rose, and going to the writing-desk took therefrom the slip he had cut from the paper. Rodgers read it, quietly. "I see. Here is mentioned the doom of the god, Kwang-ho." "Lo-Keong's private god of good luck," said the Major. "Are there private as well as public gods in China?" Tidman looked perplexed. "I can't say. I know nothing. Wait and hear what I can tell," he settled himself again and began to speak rapidly. "I was in Canton seven years ago," said he, "I had made my money here, and didn't intend to travel again. But Miss Wharf persuaded me to go to China, to see if I could find out why Markham Ainsleigh had been killed." Rupert looked astonished. "Why? she hated my father." "She loved him first and hated him later," said Tidman, quietly, "a fine woman was poor Miss Wharf. I was in love with her--" "I never knew that Tidman." "I was though," said the Major, "and Miss Pewsey hated me for being in love with her. I spoke badly of Miss Wharf to you Ainsleigh because I was angered with her--" "You called her a mass of granite." "And so she is," said the Major angrily, "she promised to marry me if I went to China and learned how your father came by his death. I did go, but I came back without learning more, than that he was murdered, so Miss Wharf refused to keep her promise. I believe it was that Pewsey cat's fault." "Well--well--go on," said Rodgers looking at his watch, "all this business is very round-about. I want to get on with my work."