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Updated: May 10, 2025
"The coat I had on at dinner. There is a card-case in the pocket. Give it to me." Probably it was all very useless. Probably no matter what he contrived, the police would ferret her out. There was just one chance though which, properly taken, might save the situation. The card-case, pale damask, lined with pale silk, the man brought him. He put it on the table. "Canlon!" "Yes, sir."
In default of Sharpeye being acquainted with the exact individuality of any gentleman encountered, one of these two is sure to proclaim from the outer air, like a gruff spectre, that Jackson is not Jackson, but knows himself to be Fogle; or that Canlon is Walker's brother, against whom there was not sufficient evidence; or that the man who says he never was at sea since he was a boy, came ashore from a voyage last Thursday, or sails tomorrow morning.
He put the question to Charley Moi, and when the smiling-faced Chinaman replied, Frank caught his breath. "That easy, bloss," said Charley, nodding. "Happen this way. Long time black me 'gage with sahib, like one know out in Canton. Think have samee big joss some bit up here in canlon. Me to bling grub to certain place evly two month. Him give me list what buy, and put cash in hand.
The butler did not know whether to lie or not, but seeing no personal advantage in either course, he hedged. "Very little, sir." That little, the old man weighed. A little is often enough. It may be too much. "He spoke about a girl, eh?" "He said a lady was stopping there. Yes, sir." "What else?" The butler shuffled. "He said she was very pretty, sir." "Go on, Canlon."
"And in all these times I suppose you've never known anybody to be around here?" Frank went on. Charley shook his head in the negative. "White man, no. Sometime Moqui come 'long, make for stlore down canlon get glub. See same two, thlee times. Charley Moi see old Moqui last night," the Chinaman replied. "What's that you say?" demanded Frank, hastily.
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