"Ping is a Chinaman, and he has his own ideas about what's right and wrong. I'll talk to him about this, though."
"You'd better. Certainly you don't want one of your pards circulating false reports about another." Burton looked at his watch impatiently. "I wonder where Andy is?" he muttered, "He's behindhand, now, and if he delays much longer, I'll not be able to get to the bank before closing time."
"He may have had such a big afternoon's business," suggested Matt, "that it's taking him a little longer to get the money counted, and into the bags."
"The business was only fair—nothing unusual. Andy has had plenty of time to sack up the money and get here with it."
Andy Carter was the ticket man. He was middle-aged, an expert accountant, and was usually punctual to the minute in fulfilling his duties to his employer.
"Have you seen anything of Dhondaram lately?" Matt inquired casually.
"He blew in here with his little basket just before you woke up. Didn't you see him?"
"I heard you talking," answered Matt, "and that's what wakened me, but I didn't see who you were talking with. Did he get Rajah under control again, Burton?"
A puzzled look crossed the showman's face.