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Fifty Candles

fuse any request my father made of him, and I am sure my father was extremely fond of him. So was Hung fond of my father, and I am very much mistaken, if, despite the lack of evidence in his face, Hung is not the sincerest mourner among us here to-night.”

The Chinaman bowed.

“It is sweet indeed,” he said, in precise perfect English, “if I have found such honor in the eyes of my employer’s son. You are a policeman,” he added, turning gravely on Barnes, “and you wish to know of my movements in this house to-night. When this matter under discussion was in progress I was in my room, whither I had gone with my master’s permission. This young man”—he nodded toward me—“was in the room when that permission was granted.”

“That’s right,” I said.

“I am no butler, no house man,” Hung went on. “But we had only to-day ar-

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