"Why, what have you found?" asked Kendrick, a little startled.
"I haven't found anything but an idea--and that," I said, handing him a bit of paper.
"What's this?" asked Kendrick, putting on his eye-glasses. "Your wash bill? China lottery? or what?"
"That's the thing that has puzzled me. You see, there's quite a bit of Chinese writing on it."
"Well, what of it?"
"I got it out of the overcoat that the fellow left in my hands."
"Ah-ha!" said Kendrick. "And you don't see what one of Bolton's men would be doing with a Chinese letter in his pocket?"
"That was just my idea--in part, at least. The letter was a clue, anyhow, and I took it to a Chinese firm I have done some law business for and know pretty well. I showed it to the boss partner. He talks English like a native, and chatters like a magpie. But when he saw that slip of paper he shut up like a clam, and all I could get out of him was 'No sabby.' You know the look of stolid ignorance they can put on when there's anything they don't want to tell."
"It's the most exasperating thing you can run against."
"Well, when my merchant failed me, I went to another I knew slightly, then to an interpreter, then to the boss of the Chinese guides. The same 'No sabby,' and the same stolid look everywhere."