” “My feeling in the matter,” Sir John said, “is as I have stated. But she must stop him getting away. “I don’t know why. Canton at night is as much China as the border town of Lan-Chow-fu. ‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre. This whole affair is truly my fault. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. A man, then, rushed up the entry, and, seizing the unlucky carpenter by the collar, presented a drawn sword to his throat.
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