"I am," was the reply.
"I thought so. My name is Butler—Ed Butler. My father had an appointment with you to-night at half-past ten; Mr. Edward Butler, of Albany. He was too sick to come to New York. He gave out at the last moment, so he sent me in his place."
"Sit down," replied Old King Brady. "You are terribly wet, my boy."
"Yes, it's raining like the dickens."
"Won't you have something to eat? A cup of coffee. You get good coffee here."
The boy sat down with a shudder.
"I don't want to eat anything in this place," he replied. "I think that mere knowledge that the food was prepared by a Chinaman would make it choke me."
"You don't like the Chinese, evidently," said Harry.
"Can you wonder? They have stolen my sister. Isn't that enough?"
"It is sad," observed Old King Brady, "but if white men will permit their daughters to act as teachers for Chinamen, what can they expect."