"I know," replied his aunt tightening her thin lips, "and I know to whom the tie belongs. But you say that Tung-yu?--"
"Who else could have scragged the old girl aunt Lavinia. The fan's gone--leastways I didn't see it when we spotted the deader."
Miss Pewsey nodded. "Yes, the fan is gone," she assented, "but if Tung-yu murdered dearest Sophia, he can easily be arrested."
"Oh, I guess not," replied Mr. Burgh easily. "Tung-yu's no slouch, you bet, and didn't intend to lose his prize--"
"The fan?" inquired Miss Pewsey.
"Just so, the fan," replied Clarence imperturbably, "and he's on his way to China by this time."
"Clarence?" Miss Pewsey rose, much excited; then calmed down. "I do not agree with you," said she firmly. "Tung-yu is innocent."
"I'll lay a couple of dollars he isn't, Aunt Lavinia. Do you remember that yacht I pointed out to you last night. Well, t'was a steam deep-sea barky, two hundred tons, Lloyd's measurement I reckon--quite heavy enough to cut round the Cape into Chinese waters. Well, she arrived in the afternoon yesterday and after midnight she lighted out."
"But how do you know Tung-yu was on board?"
"Well, I only size that up," said Clarence musingly, "but it looks to me as though he'd engineered the job. 'Twould be easy I guess for him to have had a boat waiting for him. After he'd killed the old girl and annexed the fan, he could dance down those steps like a two year old and pick up the boat on the beach. Course it's all my fancy," added Burgh modestly, "but I guess I'm right."