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ABOARD THE "MUANG-FANG"
hot tea, I pried it out from the image, and next day conveyed it out of the shop in—" Ho Kong's eye suddenly turned lack lustre, his voice indifferent—"in a cunning manner."
"Oho!" cried Scarlett eagerly. There flashed before him the memory of the wind-blown papers in the river garden, that afternoon Laura had—"Oho! You wrote that! 'It is in the middle one. They will follow you.' Then the ruby is in the middle bell—" he laughed aloud—"on the cat!"
"You know all things!" assented Ho Kong gloomily. His slant eyes held a curious gleam. "Yes, I wrote in Chlistian letters,—The middle one."
A glance at Chao Phya's collar showed the silver cockle-shells intact.
"Go on," laughed Scarlett. "By George! Go on."
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