suddenly.

"Just one moment, Mr. Trenholm--" he called after me, shaking a bony
forefinger--"just one moment, I beg of you, sir! I have some information
which I desire to impart, and, strangely enough, I was seeking you when
this unfortunate tumble came about, partly through my infirmities, I am
sure. One moment, sir. It is to your advantage to wait, I assure you."

"What is it?" I asked, hesitating. The little beggar had undoubtedly
escaped, and I knew that in Meeker I had bigger game if I handled him
cautiously.

"The _Kut Sang_!" he said, arising with difficulty and holding his back
with one hand while he hobbled after his helmet.

I was convinced that his injury and decrepit bearing were clever bits of
acting.

"I desire to correct you regarding the _Kut Sang_" he cackled, caressing
the recovered helmet.

"What about it? My dear Mr. Meeker, I am in a hurry and cannot waste the
day waiting for you to talk. I am sorry for what has happened here, but I
trust that you are not incapacitated. Anyway, I do not think there is
anything you can tell me about the _Kut Sang_ that I do not already
know."

"Oh, but there is," he protested, holding up his hand and eyeing me
craftily. "I was seeking you to tell you when we fell upon each other so
unceremoniously. It is quite--"