But all this worry was doubtless being wasted upon mere supposition. Jane
might turn over the beads without bargaining, provided the father had any
legal right to them, which Dennison strongly doubted.

He approached Ling Foo and seized him roughly by the arm.

"What do you know about these glass beads?"

Ling Foo elevated a shoulder and let it fall.

"Nothing, except that the man who owns them demands that I recover them."

"And who is this man?"

"I don't know his name."

"That won't pass. You tell me who he is or I'll turn you over to the
police."

"I am an honest man," replied Ling Foo with dignity. He appealed to the
manager.

"I have known Ling Foo a long time, sir. He is perfectly honest."

Ling Foo nodded. He knew that this recommendation, honest as it was, would
have weight with the American.

"But you have some appointment with this man. Where is that to be? I
demand to know that."

Ling Foo saw his jade vanish along with his rainbow gold. His early
suppositions had been correct.

Those were devil beads, and evil befell any who touched them.

Silently he cursed the soldier's ancestors half a thousand years back. If
the white fool hadn't meddled in the parlour that afternoon!

"Come with me," he said, finally.

The game was played out; the counters had gone back to the basket. He had
no desire to come into contact with police officials. Only it was as
bitter as the gall of chicken, and he purposed to lessen his own
discomfort by making the lame man share it. Oriental humour.