Part 2 (2/2)
”You saw him dressed in blue to-day?” asked Ned.
”All in blue he was!” the male servant interrupted, ”with his s.h.i.+rt on the outside of his trousers, like the b.l.o.o.d.y heathen he is.”
”And so you looked for him and failed to find him on the premises?”
asked Jack.
”He's gone, bag and baggage,” answered Terance, the coachman. ”Bad luck to him!”
”Still, you don't really know that it was the Chinaman?” asked Ned.
”He was dressed like the c.h.i.n.k,” was the reply. ”He smelled like a saloon!”
”Does the Chinaman drink?” asked Ned, facing Terance. ”Does he get drunk?”
”He does not,” was the reply. ”He doesn't know the taste of good liquor!”
”That's all,” Ned concluded. ”Now you two keep on looking for the Chinaman. He may be hiding in the house, or he may be at some of the dens such people frequent. You, Mary, look for him in the house, and you, Terance, see if you can learn where he usually went when he left the house.”
”Pell street!” cried Jimmie. ”Look in Pell street!”
”Or Doyers!” Jack exclaimed. ”Look in the dumps in Doyers street.”
The two went away, forgetting all about the shears which Mary had hurled at the mysterious man she had caught in the attic. Asking the boys to remain where they were, Ned went out to the staircase and secured the article. Taking it carefully by the handle, he returned to the room and held up one blade.
Jack looked at the blade casually at first, then cried out that there was blood on it, and that Mary had speared the sneak.
”Yes,” Ned explained, ”there is blood on it. Mary hit the fellow on the head with this blade. What else do you see on the steel?” he asked with a smile.
Jimmie looked and backed away in disgust. His freckled face was thrust out of the door for an instant, and they heard him calling to Mary, who, being in the kitchen, beyond sound of his voice, did not respond.
”What do you want of Mary?” demanded Jack. ”Shall I call her?”
”She said it was the c.h.i.n.k, didn't she?” the boy asked. ”Or, she said it was a man dressed like the c.h.i.n.k? Well, it wasn't the c.h.i.n.k.”
Ned laughed and looked at the boy admiringly.
”How do you know that?” he asked. ”Why are you so sure it was not the c.h.i.n.k?”
Jimmie looked up into Ned's face with a provoking grin.
”You know just as well as I do that it wasn't the c.h.i.n.k,” he said.
”Just you look on that blade again! Ever see a c.h.i.n.k with light brown hair?”
”Now, what do you think of that?” roared Jack. ”Sometimes this boy, Jimmie, seems to me to be possessed of almost human intelligence!”
The lads gathered closer around the shears, one blade of which Ned was still holding out for inspection. There was the blood, and there was the long, blonde hair!
<script>