At this moment a light little figure flitted up the stairs, leaving an impression of slender elegance and satin skirt.

“Ah, there goes Ma Chit, my wife’s cousin!” explained Salter.

“And I must be taking my departure,” said Shafto rising.  “What you have been telling me is extraordinarily interesting, and I would gladly sit on for hours, but it is ten o’clock.”

“Yes, and we workers are early birds.  I hope you will come and see us again.  I have been twenty years in the country and I can tell you many a curious tale.  To-morrow will be Sunday and, if you like, I will call round and take you to do a bit of sightseeing—­the Pagoda and the lakes.”

“I should enjoy it of all things; perhaps you will have tiffin with me at the hotel?”

“No, you must come to us; twelve o’clock sharp, and afterwards we’ll make a start.”

“Then I’ll just go in and say good-bye to Mrs. Salter.”

When they entered the sitting-room, where lamps had been lighted, they found the lady of the house in an ecstasy of admiration, gesticulating with her tiny brown hands, as she gloated over a length of rose and silver brocade.  Standing beside her was the proud owner of this magnificence; a slim, graceful girl, wearing heavy gold ornaments and flowers in her hair, and, in spite of an extravagant use of pearl powder, undeniably pretty.  Her slanting eyes were long-lashed and expressive, and her little mocking mouth wore a bewitching smile.

“Look at my tamain, Papa Salter!” she cried; “a piece of the best satin, just enough for a skirt—­one yard and a half; Herr Bernhard brought it to me from England.”

“Splendid indeed, Ma Chit,” he replied; “you will cut them all out at the big festival and the Pwes.  Mee Lay, Mr. Shafto wishes to say ’good night’!”

Mee Lay took a somewhat preoccupied leave of her guest, her eyes and attention being riveted upon the gorgeous material in her hand; but Ma Chit accorded the young man a gay salutation and a splendid view of her beautiful white teeth.

Salter accompanied his guest to the entrance gate, giving him careful directions as to the whereabouts of his hotel.  It was an exquisite starlight night; the roar of the bazaar, the clang of the trams, and the whistling of launches were in the distance; the compound itself was so still that the sudden thud of a fallen jack-fruit made quite a startling sound.  As the men exchanged last words, their attention was arrested by a charming tableau in the lighted sitting-room; two figures were outlined in strong relief against the dark teak walls, both absorbed in conversation.  Ma Chit presented a particularly attractive picture, with her rose-crowned head, graceful posture, and waving hands; even as they gazed, her rippling laugh drifted seductively towards them.

“In this country, great is the tyranny of Temptation, and there is one of the temptations,” gravely announced Salter; “Rangoon is full of these fascinating chits, who have no morals, but are witty, good-tempered and gay.  Ma Chit—­the name means ’my love’—­is said to be irresistible and the prettiest girl in the province; she is Bernhard’s housekeeper.”