d from Hong-Kong for Chemulpo in October, 1907,
ever arrived at its destination? He was given the same information
that was afforded me, and on getting it went away, silent. Now
then--was this man, this Chinaman, the Chuh Fen who turned up in
London, the same Chuh Fen who was on the _Elizabeth Robinson_? If so,
how did he escape a shipwreck which evidently happened? And why--if
there was no shipwreck, and something else took place of which we have
no knowledge--did he want to know, after two years' lapse of time, if
the ship did really get to Chemulpo?"

There was a slight pause then, suddenly broken by Dr. Lorrimore, who
then spoke for the first time.

"Do you know what all this is suggesting to me?" he exclaimed, nodding
at Scarterfield. "Something happened on that ship! It may be that
there was no shipwreck, as you said just now--something may have taken
place of which we have no knowledge. But one fact comes out
clearly--whether the _Elizabeth Robinson_ ever reached any port or
not, it's very evident--nay, certain!--that Noah and Salter Quick did.
And--considering the inquiry he made at Lloyds--so did the Chinaman,
Chuh Fen. Now--what could those three have told about the _Elizabeth
Robinson_?"

No one made any remark on that, until Scarterfield remarked softly:

"I wish I had chanced to be at Lloyds when Chuh Fen called there!
But--that's three years ago, and Chuh Fen may be--where?"

Something impelled Miss Raven and myself to glance at Dr. Lorrimore.
He nodded--he knew what we were thinking of. And he turned to
Scarterfield.

"I happen," he said, "to have a Chinaman in my employ at present--one
Wing, a very clever man. He has been with me for some years--I brought
him from India, when I came home recently. An astute chap, like----"

He paused suddenly; the detective had turned a suddenly interested
glance on him.

"You live hereabouts, sir?" he asked. "I--I don't think I've caught
your name?"

"Dr. Lorrimore--our neighbour," said Mr. Raven hurriedly. "Close by."

I think Lorrimore saw what had suddenly come into Scarterfield's mind.
He laughed, a little cynically.

"Don't get the idea, or suspicion, formed or half-fledged, that my man
Wing had anything to do with the murder of Salter Quick!" he said. "I
can vouch for him and his movements--I know where he was on the night
of the murder. What I was thinking of was this--Wing is a man of
infinite resource and of superior brains. He might be of use to