BLINDMAN'S-BUFF
savee anything. No can do, my friend. Finish! Put your beasts back. We'll try the collar man." He entered the stone-flagged alley, to find that every other door revealed a goldsmith's shop. "Lim Chong, Chin Leong—what was it? Sounded familiar, too. But they're all alike. Here it is—Sin Cheong."
In the dusk, on clean matting, stood glass cases full of shining wares. Behind a lamp-lit counter, a jolly fat merchant sat clicking his abacus. He looked up, nodded, grinned. "Tsu's'n," he remarked affably; then called aloud for his assistant. Through the rattling strings of the curtain, slid a sleek young Chinaman in pale green silk pyjamas. His face was glossy, keen, guileless, like that of an intellectual babe.
"Ho Kong," explained the merchant, "He speakee Ingalis, my no can do."
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