"I want you to come in soon," Li Sin told her. "I have some things coming from Peking that I want you to see."
But she did not come in. In place of her there entered the store, six weeks after Dreghorn had sailed, a tall, heavily built young man with a tanned face, heavy jaw, and gray eyes. He asked for Mr. Sin.
"I am Li Sin," the Manchu told him.
"My name is Gray, surgeon on the Cunarder Hibernia, between New York and Algiers. Miss Johns asked me to tell you something, and she would like to see you, if it is not asking too much. She is prostrated at home. Her fiancé is dead."
"Mr. Dreghorn is dead!" Li Sin commented simply. "How?"
"He came out of the smoking-room one night, after talking to me about his intended," the surgeon went on glibly. He seemed to be repeating something he had rehearsed. "We were off Algiers, and though the night was fine, a cross-sea was running. He said he would not turn in for a half-hour yet, and the last I saw of him he was leaning against the starboard rail of the boat-deck. We never saw anything more of him. There can be no doubt that he fell overboard."
Li Sin studied him for a few minutes silently.
"Dr. Gray," he said simply, "you will pardon a man who is twenty years older than you, and who has seen much of the world and much of life, but—that is not what happened. Dr. Gray, how did Dreghorn die?"
He continued looking at the young surgeon. The man was evidently under a great strain.
"I know Miss Johns," Li Sin went on, "and I knew Dreghorn."