"And--which of
'em, now, do you consider the cleverest of the lot--them as you say you've
lived amongst, now? You mentioned three lots of 'em, you know--Indians,
Burmese, Chinese. Which would you consider the artfullest of them three--
if it came to a bit of real underhand work, now?"
"For the sort of thing you're thinking of, my friend," answered
Mirandolet, "you can't beat a Chinaman. Does that satisfy you?"
Melky rose and glanced at the detective before turning to the doctor.
"Mister," he said, "that's precisely what I should ha' said myself. Only--
I wanted to know what a big man like you thought. Now, I know! Much
obliged to you, mister. If there's ever anything I can do for you, doctor
--if you want a bit of real good stuff--jewellery, you know--at dead cost
price--"
Mirandolet laughed and clapping Melky's shoulder again, looked at
Ayscough.
"What's our young friend after?" he asked, good-humouredly. "What's his
game?"
"Hanged if I know, doctor!" said Ayscough, shaking his head. "He's got
some notion in his head. Are you satisfied, Mr. Rubinstein?"
Melky was making for the door.
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