cured a broom from a storeroom and started sweeping. The Chinese believe there is some magic efficacy attached to brooms and demons have great fear of them.
"'Old man," cried Fan Su, "are we evil spirits that you would sweep away?"
"You are more qualified to answer that question than I."
"Evil, perhaps," chuckled Fan Su, after a moment, deciding that it was better to treat the matter as a bit of humor rather than appearing a fool before his companions, "but I assure you I am not a spirit."
"So I decided when you fell on your face. But now I must finish my sweeping so that I may sit in the garden and rest. Little vacancies from toil are sweet."
Lin Kia who spoke little was formulating a plan. Some time later as he strolled through the garden he encountered the old servant as though by accident.
"If you will tell me where I may find Chung Kuo, I will reward you well," he said softly.
"How well?" asked the old man.
Lin Kia slipped a gold piece into his hand. "This coin answers for me," he said.
The old servant examined the coin curiously. So long was it before he spoke, Lin Kia feared that his gift was to be rejected. He felt easier when it vanished into the ancient one's sleeve.
"Chung Kuo likes to walk by moonlight in a bamboo grove, and tonight the moon will be a disc of white jade. The most appropriate time to encounter him is during the hour of the Rat. (From 11 P.M. to 1 A.M.)"
"I, too, like to wander among the tall bamboo," murmured Lin Kia.
For the renegades the rest of that day passed lazily. They ate, sipped tea and dozed, though with one eye open. A few travelers stopped at the inn. However, not nearly as many as in the days before the Japanese blight. Now business was a mere trickle; the great trading that had gone on before had all but vanished. In the past, caravans had stopped at the inn and there was an enormous yard to accommodate the horses. Brigands, too, came in little groups. But they did most of their tradings on the highway. For a trinket of gold, or a bit of jade a man might go on living. The five elms before the lodge were known near and far. It was a place to be avoided but it was, even so, never without patrons. The evil words that were told about it were a sort of advertising. No questions were asked of the chance passerby who might loiter for a moment before continuing his journey. The tea was excellent.
Night came at last. The renegades retired, all save Lin Kia who remained sipping tea at a table. It was but natural for a man to linger over his tea, for in clear tea one finds the sages.
Some time before the hour of the Rat, a slim figure moved about in the darkness of the room until he came to the mattress on which Fan Su was sleeping. A quick swing of an arm in the darkness, and Fan Su joined his ancestors. It would be morning before they discovered the dagger of To-jun imbedded neatly in the heart of Fan Su.
Meanwhile, Lin Kia walked with light step into the bamboo grove that grew a few li from the inn. His felt-soled footsteps made no sound. He was adept at stalking his prey. In his sleeve was a gun that frequently spoke but never got any answer. His only fear was that he might encounter a bamboo viper. He was inordinately afraid of insects. Deeper into the grove he walked. There was poetry in the night, with the full-blossomed moon glowing in the sky like a white chrysanthemum. It surprised him how very light it was, then with a start he realized that it was far too light. He gazed in fear over his shoulder and beheld roaring flames dogging his footsteps. The
