him. In China one yellow man is much like any other.
From that time forth the life of Hung Long Tom was a thing without design. He drifted wherever the spirit moved him. Over the entire world he roamed. Sometimes for months at a time he never Left the sea. Once for two years he had lived as a hermit in a hut in the desert. He had much to think about, much to regret. His life was a series of pictures which he viewed in a detached manner. He had plenty of money. He had written his parents explaining everything to them but swearing them to secrecy. They believed his story. His father set large sums of money to his credit in a bank in Siam and continued to do so until his death. His parents had died almost within an hour of each other. They lived to a great age and to the last were supremely fond of one another. Everything was left to Hung Long Tom and he in turn, although he did not return to Canton, directed that affairs of the house he kept going as of yore. The head-man
of the house was Cheng Foong who was pos-
