"Were there seventeen in the gang, all told?" broke in Furneaux.
"Seventeen Manchus. The rest are—paid men—of no account."
"Queer," muttered Furneaux, almost to himself. "The story begins and ends with the number 17!"
Again did Winter strive to pierce his colleague with a look from those bulging eyes, but the little man was far too occupied with a singular numerical coincidence to pay any heed to him.
"Well, go on!" he said impatiently, glaring at the Chinaman.
"We went to the big room at the back," continued Li Chang quietly, uttering each word separately, and evidently weighing it in his mind to test its accuracy before use, "and found Wong Li Fu. Him we bound quickly, and very securely. The others we tied in twos and threes. Of course, we brought the two doorkeepers to the same room, so that you should experience no difficulty, but take them all together."
Here Mr. Won Lung Foo broke in. Evidently he could follow English better than speak it.
"Yes," he said. "We wantee you catchee Chineemans all togeller—muchee wantee!"
Then he smiled blandly, and his tongue rolled over his lips as though some fruit or sweetmeat had left a pleasant taste there.
"Then, if your surprise was so successful, what caused the fire?" said Winter, affecting a magnificent disregard of the plain facts.