"I'm sorry," Tom Carruthers began; "I'm awfully sorry for this, Mr. Gregory."
Robert Gregory swung round in his chair and banged the desk fiercely with his clenched fist. "Sorry—Tom! By God, I'll make some one pay for this—but who? What have we got to fight? Holman, you still think it's this man Wu? Eh?"
"I don't think, governor," Holman said, leaning across the desk in his earnestness, "I'm positive. In some way we've run up against the most powerful man in China."
"Well, I'm testing your theory, Holman. I'm having that cursed Chinaman here."
Tom Carruthers turned in his insecure seat on the window-ledge, so astonished that he very nearly slid off it; and Holman was distinctly perturbed.
"I sent him a chit this morning from the club, telling him I wished to see him here urgently at two o'clock on a matter of the gravest importance."
William Holman shook his head.
"Take it from me, sir, Wu Li Chang is not the man to call upon any one," he said; "they must go to him."
"Indeed!" Gregory snapped.
"And did you see him at two?" Tom said eagerly.
"No, Tom; he sent a coolie with a chit to say that he would call here at three—unless he found it inconvenient—unless he found it inconvenient! Look. I've hurried over from the club to see him."
Tom came across the room and picked up the note Gregory had tossed towards him, and stood studying it closely.
The trouble on Holman's face thickened. "If Mr. Wu condescends to answer such a summons," he said earnestly, "why, that very fact strengthens my belief. I
