They would have been more certain than ever of this fact had they been able to see their guest at that particular moment.  In the solitude of his own room he had removed a broad leather belt from round his waist.  From the pocket of this belt he shook out upwards of a hundred rubies and sapphires of extraordinary size.  He counted them carefully, replaced them in the belt, and then once more secured the latter about his waist.

“At last I am safe,” he muttered to himself, “but it was a close shave—­a very close shave.  I wouldn’t do that journey again for all the money the stones are worth.  No! not for twice the amount.”

Once more the recollection of his sufferings rose so vividly before him that he could not suppress a shudder.  Then he arranged the mosquito-curtains of his bed, and laid himself down upon it.  It was not long before he was fast asleep.

Before he went to his own quarters, Gregory looked in upon the stranger to find him sleeping heavily, one arm thrown above his head.

“Poor beggar!” said the kind-hearted Englishman, as he looked down at him.  “One meets some extraordinary characters out here.  But I think he’s the strangest that has come into my experience.”

The words had scarcely left his lips before the stranger was sitting up in bed with a look of abject terror in his eyes.  The sweat of a living fear was streaming down his face.  Gregory ran to him and placed his arm about him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.  “Pull yourself together, man, there’s nothing for you to fear here.  You’re quite safe.”

The other looked at him for a moment as if he did not recognize him.  Then, taking in the situation, he gave an uneasy laugh.

“I have had such an awful nightmare,” he said.  “I thought the Chinese were after me again.  Lord! how thankful I am it’s not true.”

Next morning George Bertram, as he called himself, left Nampoung for Bhamo, with Gregory’s cheque for five hundred rupees in his pocket.

“You must take it,” said that individual in reply to the other’s half-hearted refusal of the assistance.  “Treat it as a loan if you like.  You can return it to me when you are in better circumstances.  I assure you I don’t want it.  We can’t spend money out here.”

Little did he imagine when he made that offer, the immense wealth which the other carried in the belt that encircled his waist.  Needless to say Hayle said nothing to him upon the subject.  He merely pocketed the cheque with an expression of his gratitude, promising to repay it as soon as he reached London.  As a matter of fact he did so, and to this day, I have no doubt, Gregory regards him as a man of the most scrupulous and unusual integrity.

Two days later the wanderer reached Bhamo, that important military post on the sluggish Irrawaddy.  His appearance, thanks to Gregory and Dempsey’s kind offices, was now sufficiently conventional to attract little or no attention, so he negotiated the Captain’s cheque, fitted himself out with a few other things that he required, and then set off for Mandalay.  From Mandalay he proceeded as fast as steam could take him to Rangoon, where, after the exercise of some diplomacy, he secured a passage aboard a tramp steamer bound for England.