He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. But I've an old friend on the way here, and he knows the game down there. I can’t help you a cent. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH THOUGHTS IN PRISON Part 1 The first night in prison she found it impossible to sleep. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. But I dare not accept it.
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