“Now,” spoke Kenyon, in a business-like tone, “if you will get rid of the worthy Sing Wang and his friends, I will come to the matter in hand.”
“One moment.” It was Hong Yo that spoke and his slit-like eyes seemed even more narrow than ever. “There is but one way of explaining this,” indicating the gaping doorway in a way that showed that he referred to the part Kenyon had just played in the girl’s departure. “Only one way!”
Kenyon smiled enigmatically.
“And is that one way not sufficient?” he demanded.
For a moment Hong Yo stood looking at him in silence, and Kenyon noticed that the grim mouth of Farbush grew straighter and harder. Then the Chinaman motioned to Sing Wang and the two coolies, and pointed silently toward the body. Then he led Kenyon and Farbush into another room.
“Sit down,” said Hong Yo, huskily.
All three seated themselves at a table. Kenyon was careful to select a chair facing the door, for he had not forgotten the creepy feeling that Forrester had given him when that personage had crept up behind him a few moments before. Then Hong Yo seemed to recollect something.
“Pardon me,” said he, “I had forgotten that you two had not met before. Mr. Kenyon—Mr. Farbush.”
The two nodded an acknowledgment, examining each other closely.
“And so you found it necessary to tell him,” then said Hong Yo, incredulously.