terpreter. Where did he learn English? Here?"
"No, in America. O'Conner can tell you about him. I understand that he picked Li up in Hollywood. Li was acting as some sort of expert on Oriental décor there. The Chief brought Li over with him. Miss Sun we found here—or rather I found her. She came to me when we were first casting and begged so hard for a position that I more or less took her under my wing."
Andrews drummed for an uncertain moment with his heavy spatulate fingers upon the arm of O'Conner's desk chair. Then, with the air of a man who has made up his mind, he demanded:
"Could Muster O'Conner get a camera man to take yer place?"
Rutherford's eyes widened. "Yes. So, you're—arresting me?"
Andrews looked at him stolidly. "You're a wee bit in lo' wi' the little Chinese lass, I'm thinking. Perhaps Miss Sun has done it. And if she did, ye know all the sairrcumstances"
"Oh, by all means, accuse Miss Sun!" Rutherford flung out, his voice rising to a sharp, hysterical pitch. "Arrest her, too, you fat-witted harness bull! She would be likely to kill Li! She's so big and strong! Take a good look at her wrists and hands, and try to imagine them lifting a club and doing that!" pointing with a shaking finger at the crumpled figure on the office floor.
"It ud be possible for her," commented Andrews imperturbably.
The camera man appeared dashed by the calm words. His tone changed. "But Sergeant, she's not a day over seventeen, only a child!"
"Aye, but old enou' to be turnin' men's heads and causin' all sorts of blether and commotion and sudden death." Andrews hesitated an instant and then went on, his voice almost gentle, "I do be beggin' yer pardon for this."
His large hands went out with a motion incredibly quick . . . and Rutherford found himself looking stupidly down at a pair of shining manacles that braceleted his wrists.
3
The tall, elderly Chinese clad in the garish satins of the Chapei tea houses—which in China corresponds to the garb of a Rialto racketeer—smiled ingratiatingly at O'Conner. He had been buttonholing the director for nearly an hour. At last he reached the meat of his discourse:
"I have velly fine leading man fo' you, sir. A great actor tempolalily out of job. True, he talk' no English, but I shall be at hand to make translating. So you will get me, as well as"
"Yes," interrupted O'Conner impatiently, "I know; we'll be getting your services as interpreter; you've been telling me that for half an hour; but how about the actor?"
"I am coming to that," went on the elderly Chinese calmly. "But as you foreigners say, hastings make wastings. In addition to my unusual and fine servicings, you get the incomp' table actor, Mr. Ch'ung. He has acted on stages of Peiping, Tientsin, Cheefoo, Tsingtao, Tsinan, Ichang, Hankow, Kiukiang, Chinkiang"
O'Conner made an ineffectual grab at his fast-disappearing patience and missed. He interrupted to say: "All right! All right! I'll take your word for it that this Ch'ung has performed all over the map. But stage and screen acting are two different affairs. He may not screen well. And the main point is: does he look like Mr. Li? I can train a ham actor, but even I can't doctor up a picture to make a six-footer look like one that's only five-
