"We can jump aboard that New York boat and tote the ruby back to New York; then we can hunt up Tsan Ti and return the thing to him and tell him not any—that we have done as much for him as we're going to. Where's his letter sent from? What's the name of the hotel?"
In his eagerness, McGlory snatched the letter from Matt's knee and began looking it over.
"There's no address," said Matt.
"Tsan Ti may be in Chinatown," went on McGlory. "Such a big high boy couldn't get lost in the shuffle around Pell and Doyer Streets. Let's go on by that boat and take our chances locating him!"
"No," and Matt shook his head decidedly, "that's a move we can't make, Joe. I'm no more in love with this piece of work than you are, but we're in for it, and there's no way to dodge. Tsan Ti has unloaded the ruby upon us and we've got to stand for it."
"But we're responsible——"
"Of course, up to a certain point. If the stone should be taken away from us, though, Tsan Ti couldn't hold us responsible. We didn't ask for the job of looking after it, and we don't want the job, but we're doing what we can, you see, because there's no other way out of it."
"You could stow it away in a safer place than your pocket," grumbled McGlory.
"In that event," returned Matt, "we might be responsible. The thing for us to do is to follow out our instructions to the letter. If anything happens to the Eye of Buddha then it's the mandarin himself who's responsible."
"And we're to hang out in the Catskill Mountains until Tsan Ti comes for the ruby!" mused McGlory, in an angry undertone; "and he's not going to come until Grattan is 'beheaded' or clapped into jail. We're liable to have a long wait. Of all the tinhorns I ever saw, or heard of, that Grattan is the sharpest of the lot. Fine job this red-button heathen has put onto us!"