CHAPTER X. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. "Another time," replied the thief-taker, evasively. You want industry—you want steadiness. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. But at the beginning of the affray, when he thought every one was too much occupied with his own concerns to remark his absence, he slipped out of the room, not for the purpose of avoiding the engagement (for cowardice was not one of his failings), but because he had another object in view. There is the key. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace. She rapped again, louder. "Dawn Pearl!… come here!" She moved to the side of the bed. That for the men lay near the Lodge, with which it was connected by a dark passage. The man himself was not a pleasant object. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy.
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