“Of course,” said Kenyon, coolly. “You had small confidence in me then.”
The girl flushed.
“I had every reason in the world to hate you,” she said.
“I fancied that there was someone following Forrester and me, that night,” said Kenyon, thoughtfully. From his expression and voice one would have thought that he had not heard her words. Nevertheless, he had, and was pondering them.
“After you turned into that brilliantly lighted street in the Chinese quarter, I lost track of you,” she went on. “Then suddenly I came upon the man swathed in bandages, looking deathly pale and unable to arise from a doorway into which he had fallen. I was frightened, but I helped him up, there being no one else at hand. He was like one demented, for he kept muttering and vowing vengeance. Then I caught the names of Farbush and Forrester, and heard him mention the house in Selden’s Square. I questioned him. In a few moments I knew the outline of his story, and of that of the others who lay injured in Bellevue.
“He said that he was going to the place called the ‘Far East’ to see Hong Yo and have a settlement. I helped him there, for it agreed with my plans, and shortly afterwards we were shown into another building near at hand.”
“How did Forrester know that you were thereabouts?”
“It must have been accidental.”
“It was not. He and I were in a rear room of the ‘Far East.’ As I was leaving it, I saw him go eagerly to a curtained window overlooking the restaurant; I’m convinced that he expected to see you; and was greatly disappointed at your departure. He immediately darted from the room by way of the door leading to the street.”
There was a pause. Kenyon saw that she was thinking deeply. Then her face lighted up.