“Isn’t it a beauty?” cried Elaine, holding it out from her, as they entered the library and examining it with great appreciation.  “And, oh, do you know, the strangest thing happened yesterday?  Sometimes Mr. Kennedy acts too queerly for anything.”

She related how Craig had burst in on her and Aunt Josephine and had almost torn the other watch off her wrist.

“Another watch?” repeated Bennett, amazed.  “It must have been a mistake.  Kennedy is crazy.”

“I don’t understand it, myself,” murmured Elaine.

Long Sin had continued his placid way, revolving some dark and devious plan beneath his impassive Oriental countenance.  He was no ordinary personage.  In fact he was astute enough to have no record.  He left that to his tools.

This remarkable criminal had established himself in a hired apartment downtown.  It was furnished in rather elegant American style, but he had added to it some most valuable Oriental curios which gave it a fascinating appearance.

Long Sin, now in rich Oriental costume, was reclining on a divan smoking a strange looking pipe and playing with two pet white rats.  Each white rat had a gold band around his leg, to which was connected a gold chain about a foot in length, and the chains ended in rings which were slipped over Long’s little fingers.  Ordinarily, he carried the pets up the capacious sleeve of each arm.

A servant, also in native costume, entered and bowed deferentially.

“A Miss Mary Carson,” she lisped in soft English.

“Let the lady enter,” waved Long Sin, with a smile of subtle satisfaction.

The girl bowed again and silently left the room, returning with a handsome, very well dressed white woman.

It would be difficult to analyze just what the fascination was that Long Sin exercised over Mary Carson.  But as the servant left the room, Mary bowed almost as deferentially as the little Chinese girl.  Long merely nodded in reply.

After a moment, he slowly rose and took from a drawer a newspaper clipping.  Without a word, he handed it to Mary.  She looked at it with interest, as one woman always does at the picture of another pretty woman.  It was a newspaper cut of Elaine, under which was: 

Elaine dodge, the heiress, whose battle with the clutching hand is creating world wide interest.

“Now,” he began, at last, breaking the silence, “I’ll show you just what I want you to do.”

He went over to the wall and took down a curious long Chinese knife from a scabbard which hung there conspicuously.

“See that?” he added, holding it up.

Before she could say a word, he had plunged the knife, apparently, into his own breast.

“Oh!” cried Mary, startled.

She expected to see him fall.  But nothing happened.  Long Sin laughed.  It was an Oriental trick knife in which the blade telescoped into the handle.