"Quong Lee followed his guest to the street, and watched his retreating figure until lost to sight.
"'Curse him! Curse him!' hissed the old man vindictively. 'May the gods destroy him! And Quong Lee will aid them! Give me but the chance; oh, give me but the chance!' And he crossed his fingers.
"The subject of this cheerful soliloquy returned without delay to Sam Yen's, who welcomed him with a wan smile, and after explaining some minor details of the work, crept off to his cot. Ah Moy immediately began his self-imposed task, and worked with a will, crooning the while a quaint Celestial air. It was ironing day at Sam Yen's, and the new hand did not object particularly to that part of the process. By a quarter after four he had completed the job, and surveyed with much satisfaction the neat bundles, duly ranged on the shelves.
"Dennis Coogan arrived at dusk, and throwing down his ticket and some small change on the counter, walked off with his parcel, mumbling something uncomplimentary about the dirty haythin' who kept honest folks waitin' for their clothin'. Later in the evening Sam Yen appeared, much refreshed, and relieved his kind assistant. Ah Moy then left, cutting short the thanks of his countryman.
"Honesty is the best policy, and it is to be regretted that this astute maxim had not been more thoroughly kneaded into the moral make-up of Mr. Dennis Coogan. Arriving at the house in K Street, Coogan, sneaking through a side entrance and across the yard at the rear, took his master's clothing up to his own little room over the stables, where he carefully selected such articles as seemed to strike his fancy. It was the night of the coachmen's ball, and Dennis did not propose to be eclipsed at that event by any Jehu who ever handled the ribbons. So there in readiness lay the hired dress-suit, the Major's gleaming linen, and the other necessaries of evening attire. Coogan leisurely donned the unaccustomed plumage, paying as much attention to his toilet as a debutante when arraying herself for her first cotillion. After struggling into a remarkably obstinate shirt he selected the highest collar he could find, put it on, and admiringly surveyed the general effect in a cracked mirror, turning his head this way and that as he did so. Suddenly, with a gasping cry, he lurched forward, and fell heavily to the floor.
"Great was the horror and distress in the Cragiemuir household the next morning when the shockingly discolored body of the ill-fated Coogan was found. Major Cragiemuir, who was attached to the man, was sorely grieved by his death; and as there were no relatives to claim the body had the poor fellow buried from the K Street house, which was closed until after the funeral. The family physician and his confreres who examined the corpse were puzzled for some time as to the cause of Coogan's death. Cases of this sort, they solemnly declared, while not unknown to the profession, were yet extremely rare; and the long scientific name which was inscribed on the register at the health office as the disease that carried off Dennis Coogan had certainly never been seen there before. The slight scratch under the chin made by one of the sharp points of the collar was quite unnoticed in the rigid inspection to which the body was subjected.
"On the evening following the untimely death of Dennis Coogan, impelled by a curiosity which he could not resist, Ah Moy sought out the fashionable neighborhood where the Cragiemuirs resided, and found, as he had scarcely dared hope, the mansion closed and the badge of mourning on the door. He saw a dim light burning in the front parlor, and in his excited fancy could see the still form of the hated Major reposing in the satin-lined casket beneath the flickering gas jets. The Chinaman laughed aloud, and then a look of supreme terror came into his face, for he thought he saw a menacing figure leave the house, and with clenched fists start over to him.
"Ah Moy, shrieking, turned and fled.