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CHAN’S air of calm detachment had vanished for the moment, and he walked the floor as though inspired by his latest discovery.

“Smith, the beach-comber,” he said once more. “Dreary bit of human wreckage cast up on shore of splendid island. Ragged remnant of a man—how busy he was around this building last night. A big evening, I think, in the life of Smith.”

Hettick was gathering up the tools of his trade. “Well, I believe [ll go back to the station now,” he remarked. “I’ve given you boys something to work on. Go out and make the most of it.”

“Ah, you are clever detective,” Chan grinned. “Things slip from mind sometimes, but when humble fellow worker recalls them, then you move on like avenging demon. You have given us material indeed. Yes, please return to station at once. I will arrive later, and in meantime I respectfully suggest that you send out alarm call for Smith. Tell Chief beach-comber must be pulled into station with no delay. Let all low dives be explored. Put Kashimo on it. He is our most passioned searcher, and what is better, he knows all cracks and crannies of modest little underworld.”

Hettick promised he would deliver the message,