"Yes," replied the merchant, "that is wise, if he can make any use of the experience gained."
"And I think that the doctor is nearly as much interested in missions as you are, Mr. MacAllister, judging from the way he visits them and studies them at every port."
"Is that so, Dr. Sinclair?" The keen eyes were again reading his face.
"I am interested in anything which proposes to make this old world better, and to help the men who are in it. That's why I chose medicine as a profession. I like to see things for myself. That's why I visit missions."
"And what are your conclusions?"
"I have hardly come to any conclusions yet. I have been only a few months on the Coast. Tourists and newspaper correspondents know all about the Far East after spending ten or twelve hours at each of the ports touched by the big liners. I am not a genius. I cannot form conclusions so rapidly. But here is a fellow-countryman of mine who knows more of missions now than, in all probability, I ever shall know."
As he was speaking a man had entered the dining saloon who would have attracted attention anywhere. It was not his dress or his stature which would have caused him to be noticed. Like the rest he wore a close-fitting suit of white drill. He was of barely middle height, though well-knit, wiry and erect. But the quick, nervous movements, the piercing dark eyes, which seemed to take in with one swift glance everything and everybody in the room, betokened the fiery energy of the soul which burned within. The high forehead, a trifle narrow perhaps, and the straight line of the mouth, with its firmly-closed lips, indicated intensity of purpose and determination. A long black beard flowed down on his chest, contrasting sharply with the spotless white of his clothing.
"Mr. MacAllister, have you met Dr. MacKay?"
"I have not had that pleasure. Is this MacKay of Formosa?"
"I am MacKay."