And so it was. The dancers were streaming out on to the balcony and the room was almost empty. Burgh, with Olivia on his arm, came towards Miss Wharf, and Chris hurried forward to ask Miss Rayner for a dance. But quick as he was, Rupert was quicker. He had seen his wife dance with one admirer, and was not going to let her dance with another. "Miss Rayner is engaged to me," he said, and offered his arm with a defiant look at Burgh, to whom he had not been introduced. Burgh showed no disposition to let Olivia go, and scowled. But his eye fell on the Chinaman seated by Miss Wharf, and he suddenly moved away. It seemed to Rupert that the buccaneer was afraid. Chris remained to protest, but Ainsleigh ended the matter by abruptly taking Olivia out of the room. Miss Wharf frowned when she saw them depart and opened her mouth, as though to call Olivia back. But on second thoughts she contented herself with another frown and then turned to speak to Tung-yu. "I have heard of you," she said. "From my friend, Mr. Walker," said the polite Chinaman, "Oh yes, and from someone else, through a third party. I heard of your advertisement----" "What advertisement?" asked Tung-yu. "About this fan," and Miss Wharf waved it under Tung-yu's narrow eyes, which did not change their expression of indifference. "I do not understand, Madam!" The lady looked astonished. "Why. Didn't you advertise for the fan?" Tung-yu permitted himself to smile. "Who told you I did?" he asked. "Mr. Ainsleigh, who left just now, told a friend of mine, who told me," said Miss Wharf. "I understood you wished to possess this fan." "No," said Tung-yu indifferently, "the advertisement was placed in the paper, by a compatriot of mine called Hwei. He asked me to see anyone who called about it, as he was engaged. I saw Mr. Ainsleigh and told him what he told your friend. You must apply to Hwei." "And have my life taken," said Miss Wharf with a shudder. This time the Chinaman was not able to suppress a start. "I do not quite understand, Madam?" he reflected. "Oh, yes, you do, Mr. Tung-yu. Hwei would murder me to get this fan. I prefer to sell it to you for five thousand pounds." The Chinaman's face became impassive again, though his eyes looked surprised. "I assure you, this is quite wrong. Madam. My friend Hwei wants the fan, because it belongs to a Mandarin who received it as a gift from his dead wife. So dearly does this Mandarin prize it, that he is willing to buy it at any price." "Even five thousand pounds?" "I believe so. This Mandarin is rich." He turned his narrow eyes again on the lady. "Did the person who said that Hwei would go as far as crime, tell you the Mandarin's name?" "No. Who is the Mandarin?" "I fear I cannot tell you madam. Hwei did not tell me. If you like I will bring him to you."