u hear people whisper it as you pass? Just as I tingle
when some woman gasps, 'What a beautiful face!' We both have our withered
leg--only yours is invisible."

The mockery on the face and the irony on the tongue of the man disturbed
Cleigh. Supposing the rogue had his eye on that rug? To what lengths might
he not go to possess it? And he had the infernal ingenuity of his master,
Beelzebub. Or was he just trying Anthony Cleigh's nerves to see whether
they were sound or raw?

"But the beads!" he said.

"I'm sorry. Simply Morrissy ran amuck."

"I am willing to pay half as much again."

"You leave that to me--at the original price. No hold-up. Prices fixed, as
the French say. Those beads will be on board here to-morrow. But why the
devil do you carry that rug abroad?"

"To look at."

"Mad as a hatter!" Cunningham picked up his oilskin and sou'wester. "Hang
it, Cleigh, I've a notion to have a try at that rug just for the sport of
it!"

"If you want to bump into Dodge," replied the millionaire, dryly, "try
it."

"Oh, it will be the whole thing--the yacht--when I start action! Devil
take the weather!"

"How the deuce did the beads happen to turn up here in Shanghai?"

"Morrissy brought them east from Naples. That's why his work to-night
puzzles me. All those weeks to play the crook in, and then to make a play
for it when he knew he could not put it over! Brain storm--and when he
comes to he'll probably be sorry. Well, keep your eye on the yacht."
Cunningham shouldered into his oilskin. "To-morrow at the Astor, between
three and five. By George, what a ripping idea--to steal the yacht! I'm
mad as a hatter, too. Good-night, Cleigh." And laughing, Cunningham went
twisting up the companionway, into the rain and the dark.

Cleigh stood perfectly still until the laughter became an echo and the
echo a memory.

CHAPTER IV

Morning and winnowed skies; China awake. The great black-and-gold banners
were again fluttering in Nanking Road. Mongolian ponies clattered about,
automobiles rumbled, 'rickshas jogged. Venders were everywhere, many with
hot rice and bean curd. Street cleaners in bright-red cotton jackets were
busy with the mud puddles. The river swarmed with sampans and barges and
launches. There was only one lifeless thing in all Shanghai that
morning--the German Club.

In the city hospital the man Morrissy, his head in bandages, smiled feebly
into Cunningham's face.

"Were you mad to try a game like