fell in through the door and touched a few threads of gold in the coat
as Mhtoon Pah hung it up to good advantage, and turned to see a customer
come in. It was the Rev. Francis Heath; and Mhtoon Pah's face fell.
"Reverends" were not good buyers, specially when they had not any wives,
and Mr. Heath took no notice of the attractive display as he stood,
black and forbidding, in the centre of the shop.

"I have come here, Mhtoon Pah, to ask for news of Absalom," he said,
meeting his eyes forcefully. "Where is he?"

Mhtoon Pah bowed low, as befitted the dignity of his guest, who was,
after all, a _Hypongyi_, even though he wore no yellow robes.

"It is unknown," he said, in a heavy voice. "The Reverend himself might
know, since the Reverend saw my little Absalom that night."

"You _must_ have suspicions?"

Mhtoon Pah's face worked violently.

"Leh Shin," he whispered. "Look there for what is left."

Heath retreated before his fury.

"You yourself sent the boy there."

"_Wah! Wah!_ I sent him and he did not return."

"What are you talking about?" said the fresh, gay voice of Mrs. Wilder.
"Where is my lacquer bowl, Mhtoon Pah?" She came in, bright as the