Tarling had never addressed him in that language before, and the Chinaman knew just what this departure portended.
"Ling Chu," said Tarling, sitting at the table, his chin in his hand, watching the other with steady eyes, "you did not tell me that you spoke English." "The master has never asked me," said the Chinaman quietly, and to Tarling's surprise his English was without accent and his pronunciation perfect.
"That is not true," said Tarling sternly.

"When you told me that you had heard of the murder, I said that you did not understand English, and you did not deny it." "It is not for me to deny the master," said Ling Chu as coolly as ever.
"I speak very good English.

I was trained at the Jesuit School in Hangkow, but it is not good for a Chinaman to speak English in China, or for any to know that he understands.

Yet the master must have known I spoke English and read the language, for why should I keep the little cuttings from the newspapers in the box which the master searched this morning ?" Tarling's eyes narrowed.
"So you knew that, did you ?" he said.
The Chinaman smiled.

It was a most unusual circumstance, for Ling Chu had never smiled within Tarling's recollection.
"The papers were in certain order--some turned one way and some turned the other.