"Oh, that is craft," rejoined Miss Pewsey, tossing her head. "The Chinese are very double, Theophilus says."
"I don't think so, Lavinia. I would have sold this fan for a few pounds had I not known such a large sum was offered. Tung-yu is not a good business man, or else the Mandarin must be a millionaire."
"He is--he is. I wish you would let me conduct the business, and do let me take the fan?"
"No, I shall keep it."
"Sophia," said Miss Pewsey, solemnly, "that is dangerous. Rupert Ainsleigh hates you and needs money; he might kill you to get that fan, and sell it for five----"
"Nonsense. I cannot be murdered in a house full of people like this. I know another Chinaman hints at murder--you told me so----"
"Olivia told me to tell you," put in the little woman, quickly.
"Well, Hwei isn't here, and I'll sell the fan to Tung-yu to-morrow."
Miss Pewsey would have said more, but at this moment Dr. Forge approached, with a crooked elbow and a dreary smile. "Allow me to take you into supper, Miss Wharf."
"Certainly," she rose and took the arm. "I am really hungry. Lavinia?"