CHAPTER IV The tourists returned to the Sha-mien at four o'clock. " "Give you the best I have in either case," replied Figg. "If I thought he lived——" observed Wood. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. The theme was a masquerade. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. I have but to give a hint of that boy's existence in the proper quarter, and his life will not be worth a day's purchase. I must practise what I preach. I shall charge you five per cent. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre.
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