"Well then, search for the yacht."
"I intend to, and when I find her--"
"Mr. Tung-yu will have an explanation. No, Mr. Rodgers," said the Superintendent rising, "I can't believe all this business is about a trifle such as this fan. Some more serious motive is at the bottom of this murder. Now Mr. Ainsleigh's tie--"
"I can explain that," said the detective, and he did.
Young listened disbelievingly. "So he says," was his comment.
"But I don't think Mr. Ainsleigh is the sort of man to commit a brutal crime like this, and in so public a place."
"Everyone's capable of committing a crime if there's anything to be gained," was the Superintendent's philosophy, "and Mr. Ainsleigh's very agreeable manner with which you appear to be struck, may be a mask to hide an evil nature."
"Oh rubbish; begging your pardon Mr. Young. Look at this joss-stick," and Rodgers held it out, "that was found in the ruins of Royabay Abbey, so you see some Chinaman must be mixed up in the job. I am beginning to believe that the tale may be true after all."
"It's too wild--too far-fetched. I can't believe it."
"Because you haven't imagination."