He saw
the flash of a knife in the moonlight--he heard a muffled cry, and
startled groan--and saw Chen Li pitch forward and lie evidently lifeless,
where he fell. He saw the assailant stoop, seize his victim by the
shoulders and drag him behind the shrubbery. Then, without further delay,
the murderer hurried to the gate. Evidently assured himself that there was
no one about, let himself out, and was gone.
By all the solemn oaths that he could think of, Yada swore that this was
true. Of another thing he was certain--the murderer was a Chinese.
Now began his own career of crime. He was just then very hard up. He had
spent much more than his allowance--he was in debt at his lodgings and
elsewhere. Somewhere, he felt sure, there was, in that house, the money
which Chen Li had evidently stolen from old Multenius. He immediately set
to work to find it. But he had no difficulty--the bank-notes were in the
drawer from which he had seen Chen Li take the gold which he had given to
the blackmailer, Parslett. He hurriedly transferred them to his own
pocket, and got away from the house by the door at the back of the garden
--and it was not until late that night, in the privacy of his own rooms,
that he found he had nearly eighty thousand pounds in his possession.
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