It is under any conditions a great honor to meet you. My wife and I are both longtime admirers of your work. At this moment you seem to stand at very pinnacle of fame."

Charlie sighed, and drained his glass. "He who stands on pinnacle," he ventured, "has no place to step but off."

"The need for moving," suggested the steward, "may not be imminent."

"Very true." The detective nodded approvingly. "Such wisdom and such efficiency. When I met your wife, I congratulated you. Now I meet you, I felicitate her."

A delighted smile spread over the younger man's face. "A remark," he answered, "that will find place in our family archive. The subjects are unworthy, but the source is notable. Will you deign to drink again?"

"No, thank you." Chan glanced at his watch. "The town of Truckee, I believe, is but twenty-five minutes distant."

"Twenty-four and one-half," replied Henry Lee, who was a railroad man. The flicker of surprise in his black eyes was scarcely noticeable. "You alight at Truckee, Inspector?"

"I do," nodded Charlie, his gaze on the other passenger, who had evinced sudden interest.

"You travel for pleasure, I believe you intimated," the steward continued.

Chan smiled. "In part," he said softly.

"Ah, yes--in part," Henry Lee repeated. He saw Chan's hand go to his trousers pocket. "The charge, I regret to state, is one half-dollar."

Nodding, Charlie hesitated a moment. Then he laid the precise sum on the silver tray. He was not unaware of the institution of tipping. He was also not unaware of the sensitive Chinese nature. They would part now as friends, not as master and menial. He saw from the light in Henry Lee's eyes that the young man appreciated his delicacy.

"Thank you so much," said the steward, bowing low. "It has been great honor and privilege to serve Inspector Charlie Chan."

It chanced that at the moment the detective's eyes were on the foreign-looking passenger at the other end of the car. The man had been about to light a cigarette, but when he overheard the name he paused, and stared until the match burned down to his finger-tips. He tossed it aside, lighted another and then came down the car and dropped into the seat at Charlie's side.

"Pardon," he said. "Me--I have no wish to intrude. But I overhear you say you leave the train at Truckee. So also must I."

"Yes?" Chan said politely.

"Alas, yes. A desolate place, they tell me, at this time of year."

"The snow is very beautiful," suggested Charlie.

"Bah!" The other shrugged disgustedly. "Me, I have had sufficient snow. I fought for two winters with the Italian Army in the North."

"Distasteful work," commented Chan, "for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Pardon--no offense.