The manager shrugged his shoulders. He said indifferently:

"Then it'll have to be tea, monk!"

"I think I have met you once," Tao Gan said, joining the conversation. "Didn't I see you in front of the Buddhist Temple?"

The newcomer shot him a suspicious look.

"Who's the scarecrow?" he asked the manager.

"Oh, that's Brother Tao," the manager replied. "A good fellow, but not too bright. What did you do in the temple? Do you really think of joining the clergy now, monk?"

The man with the squint laughed loudly. The monk barked at him: "Stop your stupid sniggering!" As the manager gave him a sour look he went on in a calmer voice: "Well, I am in a foul temper and I don't care who knows it. The day before yesterday I see that fellow Mao Loo behind… where was it now? Yes, it was somewhere near the fish market. You could see the coppers weighing in his sleeves! 'Where's the Treasure Tree, brother?' I ask, friendly like. 'There's plenty more where that came from!' says he. 'You just go and have a look at the Buddhist Temple!' Well, I went there."

The monk gulped the tea down. Making a face, he continued:

"And what do you think I find there? An old dodderer who has even less than me, and a coffin!"

The fat manager burst out laughing. The monk's eyes glittered with rage, but he didn't dare to curse him.

"Well, well," the manager said, "you better go then with Brother Tao here to Three Oaks Island! He also wants to talk with Mao Loo!"

"So he got you too, hey?" the monk asked a little more cheerfully.

Tao Gan grunted his assent.

"I am all for milking that young fellow you were talking about," he said dryly. "That should be a little easier than tackling Mao Loo!"

"That's what you think, brother!" the monk said disgustedly. "I meet that youngster in the deep of night, running as if the King of Hell was on his heels. I grab him by his neck and ask him where he's running to. He says: 'Leave me alone!' I see that he's a wealthy youngster, the weak-kneed type that eats with silver chopsticks. I know the fellow has done something he shouldn't. So I pat him on the head, sling him over my shoulder and carry him all the way to my place."

The monk cleared his throat noisily and spat in the corner. He groped for the teapot, then thought better of it and went on:

"Imagine the fellow refusing to tell me a tiling! And that after all the trouble I took for him! Now here I am with a fine blackmail case in the hollow of my hand, and the fellow won't talk! And not for lack of persuasion either!" he added with a cruel grin.

Tao Gan got up.

"Well," he said with a resigned sigh, "that's how it always is with us people, monk! Nothing but bad luck! If I were a strong fellow like you I could make thirty silver pieces tonight. Anyway, good luck!"

He went to the door.

"Hey!" the monk shouted, "why the hurry? Thirty silver pieces did you say?"

"None of your business!" Tao Gan snapped and opened the door.

The monk jumped up and dragged him back by his collar.

"Keep your hands off, monk!" the manager said sharply. And to Tao Gan: "Why be unreasonable, Brother Tao? If you can't do the job yourself, why don't you let the monk here in on it and pocket a commission?"

"Of course, I had thought of that!" Tao Gan said testily. "But you know I am new here and I didn't quite catch the name of the place where they gather. Since they said they needed a hefty fellow who could fight I didn't inquire further."

"The stupid son of a dog!" the monk exclaimed. "Thirty silver pieces! Think, bastard!"

Tao Gan knitted his eyebrows. Then he shrugged. "It's no use. I only remember something about a carp or so!"

"That's the Inn of the Red Carp!" the manager and the monk exclaimed at the same time.

"There you have it!" Tao Gan said. "But I don't know where it is."

The monk rose and took Tao Gan by his arm.

"Come along, brother!" he said. "I know that place!"

Tao Gan shook himself loose. He held up his hand, with the palm upward.

"Five per cent of my share!" the monk said gruffly.

Tao Gan made for the door.

"Fifteen or nothing!" he said over his shoulder.

"Seven for you and three for me!" the manager interrupted. "So that's settled now. You take the monk there, Brother Tao, and tell them that I personally guarantee that the monk knows his job! Get going!"

Tao Gan and the monk left the room together.

They went to the poor quarter east of the fish market. As the monk led Tao Gan into a smelly, narrow side street, he pointed to the door of a ramshackle wooden shed.

"You go in first!" he whispered hoarsely.

Tao Gan opened the door. He heaved a sigh of relief. Ma Joong was still there, sitting in a corner with the head of the beggars. They were the only occupants of the sparsely furnished room.

"How are you, brother!" Tao Gan said cordially to Ma Joong. "Here's exactly the man your boss was looking for!"

The monk bowed with an ingratiating grin.

Ma Joong rose and walked up to him. Looking him up and down, he asked:

"What would the boss be wanting this ugly dog's-head for?"

"He knows too much about the murder in the Buddhist Temple!" Tao Gan said quickly.

The monk stepped back, but not fast enough. Before he had raised his hands Ma Joong had landed a straight blow in his heart region that made him fall backward over a small table.

But the monk had been in such situations before. He didn't attempt to get up. Quick as lightning he drew a knife and threw it at Ma Joong's throat. Ma Joong ducked and the knife stuck in the doorpost with a dull thud. Ma Joong grabbed the small table and crashed it on the monk's half-raised head. It hit the floor. The monk lay motionless.

Ma Joong unwound the thin chain he carried round his waist. He turned the monk over on his face and secured his hands behind his back. Tao Gan said excitedly:

"He knows more about Mao Yuan and his cousin than he'll admit, and besides, he is a member of a kidnaping gang!"

Ma Joong grinned broadly.

"That's good work!" he said with approval. "But how did you get the rascal here? I thought you didn't know this inn?"

"Oh," Tao Gan said airily, "I told him a story and he himself took me here."

Ma Joong gave him a sidelong glance.

"You look inoffensive enough," he said thoughtfully. "Yet I have a feeling that in your own way you are as nasty a piece as they make them!"

Ignoring that remark, Tao Gan went on:

"He has recently kidnaped a young man of good family. Probably the bastard belongs to the same gang that Han Yung-han reported about! Let's make him take us to their hideout; then we'll have something worthwhile to report!"

Ma Joong nodded. He dragged the unconscious man to his feet and threw him in a chair against the wall. Then he shouted to the graybeard to bring incense sticks. The old man hastily disappeared in the back of the room. He returned with two incense sticks that sent forth a pungent smell.

Ma Joong jerked the head of the monk up and held the burning sticks, close under his nose. Soon the man started to cough and sneeze violently. He looked up at Ma Joong from bloodshot eyes.

"We'll have a look at your home, frogface!" Ma Joong said. "Speak up; how do we get there?"

"You have something coming to you when the manager hears about this!" the monk said thickly. "He'll tear your liver out!"

"I can look after myself!" Ma Joong said cheerfully. "Come on; answer my question!"

He held the incense sticks close to the monk's cheek. He looked apprehensively at them, and quickly mumbled some directions. One had to leave the city by a footpath that began somewhere behind the Buddhist Temple.

"That'll do!" Ma Joong interrupted him. "The rest you'll show us yourself!"

He told the graybeard to bring an old blanket, and to call two coolies with a stretcher.