CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE £500 BANK NOTE
Ayscough drew the sheet over the dead man's face and signed to his companion to follow him outside, to a room where Melky Rubinstein, still gravely meditating over the events of the evening, was awaiting their reappearance.
"So that," said Ayscough, jerking his thumb in the direction of the mortuary, "that's Chen Li! You're certain?"
"Chen Li! without a doubt!" answered the house-surgeon. "I know him well!"
"The younger of the two?" suggested Ayscough.
The house-surgeon shook his head.
"I can't say as to that," he answered. "It would be difficult to tell which of two Chinese, of about the same age, was the older. But that's Chen. He and the other, Chang Li, are very much alike, but Chen was a somewhat smaller and shorter man."
"What do you know of them?" inquired Ayscough. "Can you say what's known at your hospital?"
"Very little," replied the house-surgeon. "They entered, as students there—we have several foreigners—about last Christmas—perhaps at the New Year. All that I know of them is that they were like most Easterns—very quiet, unassuming, inoffensive fellows, very
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