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 lead. If it means anything at all it means that Mr. Drew was fond of the Chinaman. And it must mean, too, that the Chink was fond of the old man.”

“Fond of him?” repeated Mark Drew. “He ought to be, that’s sure. My father saved his life!”

The detective stared at Mark Drew in surprise.

“Saved his life? When? Where?”

“Twenty years ago—in Honolulu. Let’s see—this is the fifth of December—yes, of course, twenty years ago to a day.”

Barnes sank wearily into a chair.

“Well, if you can make it short and snappy—I suppose I ought to hear about it,” he said. “Though if the old man saved Hung’s life it doesn’t stand to reason that the Chinaman would—oh, well, go ahead.”

Mark Drew leaned against a table and folded his arms.

“I’ll try to be brief,” he began. “As I Rh