"I'm coming to that. The Boss pirate was shot by me--a big six foot Northern Chinee, got up, to kill, like a tin god. He had this jade fan, and directed operations with it. When his pals cleared I found him as dead as a coffin and nailed the fan. It was pretty enough, but didn't appeal to me much. I clapped it away in my box, and when I reached England I offered it to Aunt Lavinia. She wants me to marry Miss Rayner, and said I should offer it to her, and cut out that aristocratic Ainsleigh chap. Olivia--ripping name, ain't it--well, she didn't catch on, so I thought I'd gain the goodwill of old Miss Wharf, and passed it along to her."
The Major listened in silence to this story, which seemed reasonable enough. "Strange it should have come back to England, and to a small place like this, where Forge had it," he mused. "A coincidence I suppose. By the way did you see the advertisement?" he asked.
"You bet I did, and it made me sick to think I'd parted with the fan. Leastways, it made me sick till I saw Hwei!"
"You mean Tung-yu."
"No, I don't. I mean the Chinee as calls himself Hwei, who put that advertisement in every newspaper in London, and the United Kingdom."
"What, in everyone?" said the Major, "must have cost----"
"A heap you bet. Major. Well I struck Hwei--"
"That's the name of a river, man."
"Maybe: but it's what this celestial calls himself. I struck him near the Mansion House, and knew him of old in Pekin I reckon, where we chin-chined over some contraband biznai. I spoke to him in Chinese--I know enough to get along on--and he told me he had come to this country about Lo-Keong's fan. I never said I'd got it, though by that time I'd seen the advertisement. I know Chinamen too well, to give myself away in that fashion. I pumped him, and learned that Hwei intended to scrag the chap who held the fan, so I concluded to lie low."
"But he offered wealth to whomsoever gave it up."