"
There was a disturbing cadence of doubt in the latter part of his
speech which affected the professor's always alert curiosity, as did
also the appearance of the "boy" reputed to belong to Dr. Farr. How
old he was no one could have guessed. The yellow parchment of his
face was ageless; ageless also the inscrutable, blank eyes. Only one
thing was certain--he had never been young. For the rest, he was
utterly composed and indifferent, and unmistakably Chinese.
"I hope there is no mistake," said Professor Spence hesitatingly.
"Dr. Farr certainly informed me that this was the wharf at which his
launch usually--er--tied up. But--there could scarcely be two
doctors of that name, I suppose? It's somewhat uncommon."
"Oh, it's him you want," assured Mr. Johnston. "Only man of that
name hereabouts. Lives out across the Narrows somewheres. Used to
live here in Vancouver years ago but now he don't honor us much.
Queer old skate! They say he's got some good Indian things, though--
if it's them you're after?"
The professor ignored the question but pondered the information.
"I think you are right. It must be the same person," he said. "But
he certainly led me to expect--"
A chuckle from the boat-builder interrupted him. "Ah, he'd do that,
all right," grinned Mr. Johnston. "They do say he has a special gift
that way."
"Well, thank you very much anyway." The professor offered his hand
cordially. "And if we're going, we had better go.
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