"If you want to bump into Dodge," replied the millionaire, dryly, "try

it."

"Oh, it will be the whole thing--the yacht--when I start action! Devil

take the weather!"

"How the deuce did the beads happen to turn up here in Shanghai?"

"Morrissy brought them east from Naples. That's why his work to-night

puzzles me. All those weeks to play the crook in, and then to make a play

for it when he knew he could not put it over! Brain storm--and when he

comes to he'll probably be sorry. Well, keep your eye on the yacht."

Cunningham shouldered into his oilskin. "To-morrow at the Astor, between

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three and five. By George, what a ripping idea--to steal the yacht! I'm

mad as a hatter, too. Good-night, Cleigh." And laughing, Cunningham went

twisting up the companionway, into the rain and the dark.

Cleigh stood perfectly still until the laughter became an echo and the

echo a memory.




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