Ah
Cum that he was ready.

"You speak English better than I do," said O'Higgins, as the
coolies jogged across the bridge toward the gate. "Where did you
pick it up?"

"I believe I told you; at Yale."

O'Higgins laughed. "I'd forgotten. But that explains everything."

"Everything." It was not uttered interrogatively; rather as though
Ah Cum did not like the significance of the word and was turning it
over and about in speculation.

"Ye-ah," said O'Higgins, jovially. "Why you pretended not to
recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these
diggings all day yesterday."

Many wrinkles appeared at the corners of Ah Cum's slant eyes--as if
the sun hurt--but the rest of his face remained as passive as a
graven Buddha's.

CHAPTER X

Ah Cum was himself puzzled. Why hadn't he admitted that he
recognized the photograph? What instinct had impelled him swiftly
to assume his Oriental mask?

"Why?" asked O'Higgins. "What's the particular dope?"

"If I told you, you would laugh," answered Ah Cum, gravely.

"No; I don't think I'd laugh. You never saw him before yesterday.
Why should you want to shield him?"

"I really don't know."

"Because he said he was a Yale man?"

"That might be it."

"Treated you like a white man there, did they?"

"Like a gentleman."

"All right. I had that coming. I didn't think. But, holy smoke!--the
Yale spirit in...."

"A Chinaman. I wonder. I spent many happy days there. Perhaps it
was the recollection of those happy days. You are a detective?"

"Yes. I have come thirteen thousand miles for this young fellow;
I'm ready to go galloping thirteen thousand more."

"You have extradition papers?"

"What sort of a detective do you think I am?" countered O'Higgins.

"Then his case is hopeless."

"Absolutely."

"I'm sorry. He does not look the criminal."

"That's the way it goes. You never can tell." There was a pause.
"They tell me over here that the average Chinaman is honest."

Ah Cum shrugged. "Yes?"

"And that when they give their word, they never break it."
O'Higgins had an idea in regard to Ah Cum.

"Your tone suggests something marvellous in the fact," replied Ah
Cum, ironically. "Why shouldn't a Chinaman be honest? Ah, yes; I
know. Most of you Americans pattern all Chinese upon those who fill
a little corner in New York. In fiction you make the Chinese
secretive, criminal, and terrible--or comic. I am an educated
Chinese, and I resent the imp