The colonel stiffened in his chair, and under his bulk even those
ponderous timbers quaked a little. Once more Donnegan gained an
impression of chained activity ready to rise to any emergency. The
colonel's jaw set and the last vestige of the smile left his eyes. Yet
it was not anger that showed in its place. Instead, it was rather a
hungry searching. He looked keenly into the face and the soul of
Donnegan as a searchlight sweeps over waters by night.

"You are a mind reader, Mr. Donnegan."

"No more of a mind reader than a Chinaman is."

"Ah, they are great readers of mind, my friend."

Donnegan grinned, and at this the colonel frowned.

"A great and mysterious people, sir. I keep evidences of them always
about me. Look!"

He swept the shaft of the reading light up and it fell upon a red vase
against the yellow hangings. Even Donnegan's inexperienced eye read a
price into that shimmering vase.

"Queer color," he said.

"Dusty claret. Ah, they have the only names for their colors. Think!
Peach bloom--liquid dawn--ripe cherry--oil green--green of powdered
tea--blue of the sky after rain--what names for color! What other land