vilized standards.

Within two months, the Temple Hotel was finished and ready for use.
Much foreign furniture had been sent up from Shanghai, and Rivers and
his wife also removed themselves to the up-river town and set about
their business. Rivers was glad to leave Shanghai; he had had enough
of it, since his unlucky episode, and was glad to bury himself in the
comparative obscurity of the interior. Life resumed itself smoothly
once again, and he prospered exceedingly.

His attitude towards the natives, however, was more domineering than
ever, now that he had recovered from the unpleasant two weeks that
preceded his trial. These two weeks had been more uncomfortable than
he liked to think about, but safely away from the scene of the
disturbance, he became more abusive, more brutal than ever in his
attitude towards the Chinese. His servants horribly feared him, yet
did his bidding with alacrity. The reputation of a man who could kill
when he chose, with impunity, stood him in good stead. Liu, the son of
Kwong, followed him up-river and obtained a place in his household as
pidgeon-cook, assistant to number-one cook. Rivers failed to recognize
his new servant, and at such times as he encountered him, was
delighted with the servile attitude of the youth, and called him "Son
of a Turtle" which is the worst insult in the Chinese language.

Liu bided his time, for time is of no moment in the Orient. His hatred
grew from day to day, but he continued to wait. He wished to see
Rivers thoroughly successful, at the height of his career, before
calling him to account. Since he would have to pay for his revenge
with his life--not being a European--he determined that a white man at
the top of his pride would be a more fitting victim than one who had
not yet climbed the ladder. Such was his simple reasoning. Under his
long blue coat there hung a long, thin knife, whetted to razor
sharpness on both edges.

Summer came again, and the blazing heat of mid-China, lay over the
land. Mrs. Rivers went north to join her children, and the number of
guests in the hotel diminished to two or three. Business and tourists
came to a standstill during these scorching weeks, and Rivers finally
went down to Shanghai for a few days' jollification. He left his
affairs in the hands of the shroff, the Chinese accountant, who could
be trusted to manage them for a short time.

He returned unexpectedly one night about eleven o'clock, quite drunk.
The few