gether to pay honor where they felt honor to be due; namely, at the
shrine of Mr. Tutt.

Deft Chinese waiters slipped silently from guest to guest with
bird's-nest soup, guy soo main, mon goo guy pan, shark's fin and lung
har made of shreds of lobster, water chestnuts, rice and the succulent
shoots of the young bamboo, while three musicians in a corner sang
through their nose a syncopated dirge. "Wang-ang-ang-ang!" it rose and
fell as Mr. Tutt, his neck encircled by a wreath of lilies, essayed to
manipulate a pair of long black chop-sticks. "Wang-ang-ang-ang!" About
him were golden limes, ginger in syrup, litchi nuts, pickled leeches.

Then he felt a touch upon his shoulder and turned to see Fong Hen, the
slipper, standing beside him. It was the duty of Fong Hen to drink with
each guest--more than that, to drink as much as each guest drank! He
gravely offered Mr. Tutt a pony of rice brandy. It was not the fiery
lava he had anticipated, but a soft, caressing nectar, fragrant as if
distilled from celestial flowers of the time of Confucius. The slipper
swallowed the same quantity at a gulp, bowed and passed along.

Mr. Tutt vainly tried to grasp the fact that he was in his own native
city of New York. Long sleeves covered with red and purple dragons hid
his arms and hands, and below the collar a smooth tight surface of silk
across his breast made access to his pockets quite impossible. In one of
them reposed twenty one-thousand-dollar bills--his fee for securing the
acquittal of Mock Hen. Yes, he was in New York!

The monotonous wail of the instruments, the pungency of the incense, the
subdued light, the humid breath of the roses carried the thoughts of Mr.
Tutt far away. Before him, against the blue misty sunshine, rose the
yellow temples of Peking. He could hear the faint tintinnabulation of
bells. He was wandering in a garden fragrant with jasmine blossoms and
adorned with ancient graven stones and carved gilt statues. The air was
sweet. Mr. Tutt was very tired....

"Let him sleep!" nodded Buddha, deftly conveying to his wrinkled lips a
delicate morsel of guy yemg dun. "Let him sleep! He has earned his
sleep. He has saved our face!"

It was after midnight when Mr. Tutt, heavily laden with princely gifts
of ivory and jade and boxes of priceless teas, emerged from the side
door of the Shanghai and Hongkong American-Chinese Restaurant. The sky
was brilliant with stars and the sidewalks of Doyers and Pell Streets
were