going to tell you of an affair that occurred in
Washington a few years ago. It has to do with a well-known society girl,
an irascible father, a bad Chinaman, and a high collar--seemingly
irreconcilable elements, I'll admit, but I will do my best to mix 'em
in. I had the story in sections from most of the parties concerned; a
wide acquaintance with the police and an intimate knowledge of the
Chinese quarter helping out considerably. The odds and ends, pieced
together, make, I hope, a hearable tale."

X

MR. CALLAHAN'S STORY

"My story begins, then, on a bright Sabbath afternoon in mid-autumn when
Miss Janet Cragiemuir left her home in K Street and set out leisurely
upon her walk to Bethany Church, where she revelled in her latest fad.
She had recently taken a class in the Chinese Sunday-school. The good
work began at three o'clock, and as it was nearly that hour, groups of
Chinamen stood out on the sidewalk chattering as only Celestials can.
They greeted Miss Cragiemuir with grave courtesy when she approached,
and shuffled lazily out of her way as she swept past. She was followed
into the building by her three scholars, one of whom presented her with
a small package which was accepted with some reluctance. Then a brief
whispered argument took place between the two, the Chinaman appearing to
have decidedly the best of it, for he displayed his broken, yellow teeth
in a hideous grin when his teacher turned from him to the other members
of the class.

"Miss Cragiemuir was attached to her scholars, an intelligent lot of
men, speaking English fairly well, and at times quite electrifying her
by their naive observations on men and things. But Ah Moy, the ugly
fellow at the end of the form, was her especial pride. That gorgeously
clad individual was considered the star scholar of the school, and as a
shining example of what Christian training can do for the heathen was
often pointed out to visitors. Well, Ah Moy _was_ undeniably clever, but
not in just the way the good people of Bethany imagined. As a matter of
fact, a more corrupt Chinaman had never been smuggled into America.
Ostensibly in the laundry business, and really a master workman in that
line, the astute Chink had long since relinquished the labor over the
tubs and ironing-board to Hop Wah, his silent partner. Ah Moy's chief
interest in the establishment lay in its cavernous sub-cellar, where he
conducted gaming tables and a smoking-'parlor' with flattering