that you were ill that night, but I must have a creditable witness."

When he left the shop, Leh Shin looked at the fat, sodden boy, and the
boy returned his look for a moment, but neither of them spoke, and a few
minutes later the door was bolted from within, and they were once more
alone in the shadows, with the rags, the broken portmanteaux, the relics
of art, and the animal smell, and Hartley was out in the street. He was
pretty secure in the belief that Leh Shin had not seen the boy, and that
he knew nothing of the gold lacquer bowl, but he also believed that
Mhtoon Pah had been far too crafty to tell the Chinaman that anyone
particularly wanted such a treasure of art. Mhtoon Pah, or his emissary,
would have priced everything in the shop down to the most maggot-eaten
rag before he would have mentioned the subject of lacquer bowls.

There was no mystery connected with the bowl, but there was something
sickening about Leh Shin's shop, and something utterly horrible about
his assistant. Hartley wished he had not seen him, he wished that he had
remained in ignorance of his personality. He thought of him in the
sweating darkness he had left, and as he thought he remembered Mhtoon
Pah's wild, extravagant fancies, and they grew real to his mind.

It was next to impossible to discover what the truth was about Leh
Shin's illness on the night of July the 29th, and it really did not bear
very much upon the matter, unless there was no other clue to what had
become of the boy. Hartley returned to other matters and put the case on
one side for the moment. On his way back for luncheon he looked in at
Mhtoon Pah's shop. He had intended to pass, but the sight of the little
wooden man ushering him up the steps made him turn and stop and then go
in. Mhtoon Pah sat on his divan in the scented gloom, very different to
the interior of Leh Shin's shop, and when he saw Hartley he struggled to