searching her dim cabin. It took little enough seeking to reveal the treasure box—and "Aiya!" squeaked the startled official as he flung back the lid and drew aside the wrappings.
"Now the jig's up," Alan thought desperately. "They'll think we've stolen it. I don't look exactly like a wealthy merchant."
He wheeled on the official. Anything to gain time, to let Mark get back.
"Wait!" he begged. "My brother will come back. We want to get to Shanghai, Shanghai-side, you know. It's all right, really; you'll see."
The police captain apparently thought, however—if, indeed, he understood the information at all—that this matter had passed beyond his authority and that Alan's tale should be for higher ears than his own. So the treasure-chest was swung to the brawny shoulder of one of the force, and Alan could not but follow then. The captain, however, pointed an accusing finger toward the boat.
"You take," he said sternly, indicating Ping-Pong, who was yawning small bored yawns in the shade of the matting-roof.
"No, no!" exclaimed Alan hastily, seeing an
