all right, Kong," exclaimed the one whom my last words fittingly
described, striking the recess of his lower garment with a gesture of
graceful significance. "When I take a fancy to any one it isn't a matter
of dollars. I usually carry a trifle of five hundred or a thousand
pounds in my pocket-book, and if we can get through that--why, there's
plenty more waiting at the bank. Say, though, I hope you don't keep much
about you; it isn't really safe."

"The temptation to do so is one which this person has hitherto
successfully evaded," I replied. "The contents of this reptile-skin
case"--and not to be outshone in mutual confidence I here displayed it
openly--"do not exceed nine or ten pieces of gold and a like number of
printed obligations promising to pay five pieces each."

"Put it away, Kong," he said resolutely. "You won't need that so long as
you're with me. Well, now, what sort of a saloon have we here?"

As far as the opinion might be superficially expressed it had every
indication of being one of noteworthy antiquity, and to the innately
modest mind its unassuming diffidence might have lent an added charm.
Nevertheless, on most occasions this person would have maintained
an unshaken dexterity in avoiding its open door, but as the choice
admittedly lay in the hands of one who carried five hundred or a
thousand pieces of gold we went in together and passed through to a
compartment of retiring seclusion.

In our own land, O my orthodox-minded father, where the unfailing
resources of innumerable bands of dragons, spirits, vampires, ghouls,
shadows, omens, and thunderstorms are daily enlisted to carry into
effect the pronouncements of an appointed destiny, we have many
historical examples of the inexorably converging legs of coincidence,
but none, I think, more impressively arranged than the one now
descending this person's brush.

We had scarcely reposed ourselves, and taken from the hands of an
awaiting slave the vessels of thrice-potent liquid which in this Island
is regarded as the indispensable accompaniment to every movement of
existence, when a third person entered the room, and seating himself
at a table some slightly removed distance away, lowered his head and
abandoned himself to a display of most lavish dejection.

"That poor cuss doesn't appear to be holiday-making," remarked the
sincerely-compassionate person at my side, after closely observing the
other for a period; and then, moved by the overpower