"You need not answer quite as loudly," warned Midshipman Trotter, sending a backward look over his shoulder at the door. "Now, then, the police over in Sleepy Hol—Annapolis—today learned the details of a yellow tragedy. Some weeks ago three Chinamen came to town and opened a clean—I mean, a new—laundry. During the last week, however, the public noted that the door leading from the office to the rear room was always closed. You follow me?"
"Yes, sir," came in an almost whispered chorus.
"Finally," continued Mr. Trotter, "one customer, more curious than the others, reported his observations to the police. Today the Johnny Tinplates made a raid on the place. A most curious state of affairs came to light. So—but is this tangled tale clear to you all as far as I have gone?"
"Yes, sir," came the whispered chorus.
"What the police learned," went on Mr. Trotter, in a voice that now sounded slightly awestruck, "was this: a week ago the three Chinese partners had a serious row. They quarreled, then fought. Two of the yellow partners killed the third! And now, a serious problem confronted the two survivors of that misunderstanding. What was to be done with the remains of the unsuccessful disputant?"
Midshipman Trotter looked at each of the wondering plebes in turn.
It looked as though he were asking the question of them.
"I don't know, sir," admitted Dan Dalzell, at the left of the line.
"I don't know, sir," admitted the man next to Dan. So it went down the line, until Dave Darrin, at the further end, had admitted himself to be as much in the dark as were the others.
"Then, listen," resumed Mr. Trotter impressively. "The Chinese, being descended from a very ancient civilization, are not only very ingenious but also very thrifty. They were burdened with two hundred pounds of evidence on the premises. In their extremity the two survivors cut up their late partner, cooked him, and disposed of the flesh at meal times."
From the gravity of the narrator's expression he appeared to be reciting a wholly true story.