t was well
advanced, they carried him through unfrequented ways and left him
unperceived within Heng-cho's gate.

"There is yet another precaution which will ensure to you the
sympathetic voices of all if it should become necessary to appeal
openly," said Yuen Yan when they had returned. "I will make out a deed
of final intention conferring all I possess upon Yuen Yan as a mark of
esteem for his conscientious services, and this you can produce if
necessary in order to crush the niggard baker in the wine-press of
your necessitous destitution." Thereupon Yan drew up such a document
as he had described, signing it with Chou-hu's name and sealing it
with his ring, while Tsae-che also added her sign and attestation. He
then sent her to lurk upon the roof, strictly commanding her to keep
an undeviating watch upon Heng-cho's movements.

It was about the hour before dawn when Heng-cho appeared, bearing
across his back a well-filled sack and carrying in his right hand a
spade. His steps were turned towards the fig orchard of which Yan had
spoken, so that he must pass Chou-hu's house, but before he reached it
Tsae-che had glided out and with loosened hair and trailing robes she
sped along the street. Presently there came to Yuen Yan's waiting ear
a long-drawn cry and the sounds of many shutters being flung open and
the tread of hurrying feet. The moments hung about him like the wings
of a dragon-dream, but a prudent restraint chained him to the inner
chamber.

It was fully light when Tsae-che returned, accompanied by one whom she
dismissed before she entered. "Felicity," she explained, placing
before Yan a heavy bag of silver. "Your word has been accomplished."

"It is sufficient," replied Yan in a tone from which every tender
modulation was absent, as he laid the silver by the side of the
parchment which he had drawn up. "For what reason is the outer door
now barred and they who drink tea with us prevented from entering to
wish Yuen Yan prosperity?"

"Strange are my lord's words, and the touch of his breath is cold to
his menial one," said the woman in doubting reproach.

"It will scarcely warm even the roots of Heng-cho's fig-trees,"
replied Yuen Yan with unveiled contempt. "Stretch across your hand."

In trembling wonder Tsae-che laid her hand upon the ebony table which
stood between them and slowly advanced it until Yan seized it and held
it firmly in his own. For a moment he held it, compelling the woman to
gaze wit