One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. Heard of your last escape. When he could find words, he tried by the most urgent solicitations to prevail upon the constable to let him out. She was a much lighter and more frivolous person, very charming and companionable—but with a difference—a great difference. To have spoken lightly on such a subject a few hours ago would have seemed incredible. She looked up quickly. She stole her glances sideways like the rest of the women. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. "Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland.
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