"What do you think of it?" he asked, when his tale was told. The Superintendent was a tall thin man with a cold eye and a distrustful manner. He believed only half he saw, and absolutely nothing he heard. Consequently when Rodgers ended, and his opinion was asked, he sniffed disdainfully, and put on his most official expression. "It's a fairy tale," said Young in his dry voice, which was like the creaking of a rusty wheel. "Well now, the woman was murdered." "But not for this fan, Mr. Rodgers." "Then what motive do you think--?" "I don't undertake to say, sir. Let us gather all the evidence we can and submit it to an intelligent jury at the inquest. It takes place to-day at the public house near the corner of the Cliff Road and not far from Ivy Lodge. When the jury has inspected the body, it will sit with the Coroner at the Bull's Head." "A Chinaman calling himself Tung-yu was at the ball you know," said Rodgers, unwilling to abandon the theory in spite of his doubts. "Where is he now?" "I can't say. Mr. Christopher Walker brought him down, and I went to see that young gentleman before he departed for business this morning. He told me that Tung-yu was a clerk in the same firm of tea merchants as he was employed with, and had not been at the office since he left to come to the ball. Mr. Walker last saw Tung-yu at the door of the hotel, looking out across the pier." "Well," said Young drily. "That yacht was there," went on Rodgers, "and showed a green light so it's just possible that Mr. Burgh may be right and that the Chinaman did steam away in her." "Well then, search for the yacht." "I intend to, and when I find her--" "Mr. Tung-yu will have an explanation. No, Mr. Rodgers," said the Superintendent rising, "I can't believe all this business is about a trifle such as this fan. Some more serious motive is at the bottom of this murder. Now Mr. Ainsleigh's tie--" "I can explain that," said the detective, and he did. Young listened disbelievingly. "So he says," was his comment. "But I don't think Mr. Ainsleigh is the sort of man to commit a brutal crime like this, and in so public a place." "Everyone's capable of committing a crime if there's anything to be gained," was the Superintendent's philosophy, "and Mr. Ainsleigh's very agreeable manner with which you appear to be struck, may be a mask to hide an evil nature." "Oh rubbish; begging your pardon Mr. Young. Look at this joss-stick," and Rodgers held it out, "that was found in the ruins of Royabay Abbey, so you see some Chinaman must be mixed up in the job. I am beginning to believe that the tale may be true after all." "It's too wild--too far-fetched. I can't believe it." "Because you haven't imagination." "We don't want imagination in this matter, Mr. Rodgers. Facts sir." Rodgers got up and put on his hat. "Well, we'll not be able to agree, I can see that," said he, "and as the case is in my hands, I am going away to look after evidence." "Why not arrest Mr. Ainsleigh?"