"You have asked him questions?"
"I? Humph! What an innocent fool you are, in spite of that gold on your collar! Have I seen him to ask questions?"
"That is what I meant."
"Not I. He is no fool. You may be the Gray Dragon for all of me. No one in Len Yang sees him. No one dares! It is death to see that man! Didn't I try? But only once!"
"You did try?"
"That was enough. I got as far as the first step of the ivory palace. Some one clubbed me! I was sick. I thought I was going to die! There is a scar on my neck. It never seems to heal!"
The senile whine trailed off into a thin, abusive whimper. His bony jaws moved slowly and meditatively. He went on:
"He is crazy, too. Women! Beautiful women for the mines! Men—men—men everywhere know the price he will pay. In pure silver!"
"He pays well, my son?"
"A thousand taels, if he is satisfied. That is where this hole got its name. You know the name—the City of Stolen Lives? It should be the City of Lost Hope. For none ever leave. The mines swallow them up. What becomes of them?"