“When the milkman come this morning, sir, he told me that a policeman was found lyin’ insensible on the road outside the mansions shortly after three o’clock,” was the answer, conveyed in a low note that suggested a matter better kept from the cognizance of Mrs. Bates.

“That’s a bad job for the policeman; it is nothing very remarkable otherwise,” said Theydon.

“But the milkman heard he was set about by three swells, young gentlemen in evening dress, sir, who ran away when another constable appeared.”

“Very likely.  There was a row, and the law got the worst of it.  Anyhow, we were not disturbed during the night.”

“No, sir.  I was only thinkin’ of what might have happened if the police were not on the job.”

“Look here, Bates”—­ and Theydon’s manner was most emphatic—­ “if you and I begin seeing shadows we’ll soon collect a fine show of Chinese ghosts.  I’m astonished at you, a man who has been under fire.”

“Sorry, sir.  I thought you’d like to hear the lytest, that’s all.”

Theydon ate a hearty breakfast, thus proving that the marvels and portents of the previous day had not begun to undermine his constitution.  Finding he had time, after attending to his correspondence, to walk to Handyside’s hotel in the Strand, he did so.  The American was awaiting him at the end of a long, thin cigar.

“Any noos?” said the Chicagoan, after a cheerful greeting.

“Yes.  The feud continues.  You heard about those ivory skulls yesterday?”

“Yes, sir.  They reminded me of the tales of my youth.”

“Well, I got mine last night.  Here it is!”

“Gee whiz!”

Handyside took the small object which Theydon produced from a waistcoat pocket.  He examined it with minute care.

“I’ve never crossed the Pacific,” he said, after apparently satisfying himself as to the exact nature of the unpleasant token, “but one of my hobbies is the collection of ivories.  In my home—­”

“21,097 Park Avenue,” interrupted Theydon.

“Just so—­ four doors short of 211th Street.  Well, sir, when you blow in there you’ll see a roomful of curios.  I’m not exactly a connoisseur, but I know enough to tell Japanese work from Chinese.  This was made by a Jap.  And that reminds me.  You said last night that Wong Li Fu put you off your balance by a jiu jitsu trick and handed that husky detective some, too.  Very few Chinks have ever even heard of jiu jitsu.  I’ve a notion that a bunch of Japs is mixed up in this business.”

“Surely not?”

“It’s possible.  You good people here are crazy in your treatment of the Japanese.  You think they’re civilized because they dress in good shape, and can put up a mighty spry imitation of Western ways.  But they ain’t.  They’re the greatest menace to Europe that has yet come up on the tape.  Do you believe they want China to wake up and organize before they’re ready to take hold?  No, sir.  Anyhow, that skull was carved by a Japanese artist, and a bully good one at that.”