Sure enough it was, and it contained all the stolen property, tallying exactly with his description, even to the rolls of dollars in the "chopped" wrappers.
If ever a detective was astonished, Sergeant Cassim was.
"Who has won the hundred dollars, Tuan?" he asked.
"I have," I replied.
"But how did the Tuan discover it?"
"You gave me the clue yourself," I said. "You told me the robbers spoke the Fuhkien dialect, so I signed all the Fuhkien passes in red ink, and ordered that every man with one of these was to be searched at the frontier stations."
"The Tuan was right," cried Cassim. "Every man leaves some trace of his crime, and I thank the Tuan for proving it to me."
No defence was offered by the prisoners—they had none; and in due course they were sentenced to ten years' penal servitude each.
Thirteen years afterwards I was Secretary to the Council and Chief of Police of the international settlement of Kulangsu, in the province of Fuhkien.
One afternoon I was taking a walk on the mainland, when a Chinaman met me.