apple-green jade, the royal, translucent stone. And she knew that she had as much chance of possessing the real article as she had of taking her pick of the scattered Romanoff jewels.

Jane held to the belief that when you wished for something you couldn’t have it was niggardly not to wish magnificently.

She dressed hurriedly, hastened through her breakfast of tea and toast and jam, and was about 41 to sally forth upon the delectable adventure, when there came a gentle knock on the door. She opened it, rather expecting a boy to announce that Captain Dennison was below. Outside stood a Chinaman in a black skirt and a jacket of blue brocade. He was smiling and kotowing.

41

“Would the lady like to see some things?”

“Come in,” said Jane, readily.

Ling Foo deposited his pack on the floor and opened it. He had heard that a single woman had come in the night before and, shrewd merchant that he was, he had wasted no time.

“Furs!” cried Jane, reaching down for the Manchurian sable. She blew aside the top fur and discovered the smoky down beneath. She rubbed her cheek against it ecstatically. She wondered what devil’s lure there was about furs and precious stones that made women give up all the world for them. Was that madness hidden away in her somewhere?

“How much?”

She knew beforehand that the answer would render the question utterly futile.

“A hundred Mex,” said Ling Foo. “Very cheap.”

“A hundred Mex?” That would be nearly fifty dollars in American money. With a sigh 42 she dropped the fur. “Too much for me. How much is that Chinese jacket?”

42

“Twenty Mex.”

Jane carried it over to the window.

“I will give you fifteen for it.”

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