"I'll bet a bowl of birds'-nest soup against a plate of sharks' fins it's going to spoil your breakfast."
They went in and took their usual places at one of the tables. All the other guests had breakfasted, and the motor boys had the big dining room—with the exception of two or three waiters—wholly to themselves.
"Open it quick," urged McGlory.
Matt sawed through the string with his knife, pulled out the lid of the box, and dropped a gleaming red object on the tablecloth.
"Sufferin' snakes!" exclaimed McGlory. "The Eye of Buddha, or I'm a Piute! How in blazes did old Tsan Ti get the thing back to us? When I saw that last it was in a silk bag around the mandarin's neck."
"It can't be the Eye of Buddha, Joe," said Matt. "It looks to me more like the bogus gem than the real one."
"How can you tell the difference?"
"From the fact that the real stone could not by any possibility get into our hands again."
"Neither could the bogus gem—if it's where we think it is."
"I guess here's something that will explain," and Matt drew a piece of paper from the box.