does it all mean, Holman? I say it looks like some curse, don't you know, come home to roost!"
"You are in the confidence, quite outside of business, of Mr. Gregory," the manager said, sitting down again heavily—"of Mr. Gregory and his family. I want to ask you a straight question."
"Yes?"
"Do you know of any one thing, however slight, that Mr. Gregory may have done to upset Wu Li Chang?"
"Wu Li Chang?"
"Yes, or 'Mr. Wu,' as he's mostly called by the Europeans."
"No," Tom said decidedly, seating himself on the table—that was one of his ways that ruffled Holman—"no, absolutely no. Why, only the other day—Thursday, wasn't it?—we visited at his place—it was there, you know, that the last was seen of Basil, except for his having been seen here, on the island, with two other Europeans later that same evening."
Holman smiled sourly. "Who saw him?"
"Why, those Chinese johnnies who brought the information to Government House."
Holman grunted. "Volunteered the information, didn't they? Went direct to the Governor instead of lodging information with the police in the usual way?"
"Yes."
"Basil Gregory was no more seen by those Chinamen than I possess the Koh-i-noor."
"What?" Carruthers stood up in his surprise.
"Take it from me," the other said emphatically, "in some manner Mr. Gregory has stung Wu Li Chang, and, by Jove, that wound will want some healing."
Tom Carruthers was hopelessly puzzled. "Well," he
