ing jaws, and having no other food than the filthy rubbish
which foreigners detest. Fortunately I am not on foot, and I have no
business in the Red Town, admittance to which is denied, nor in the
yellow town nor even in the Tartar town.

The Chinese town forms, a rectangular parallelogram, divided north and
south by the Grand Avenue leading from the Houn Ting gate to the Tien
gate, and crossed east and west by the Avenue Cha-Coua, which runs from
the gate of that name to the Cpuan-Tsa gate. With this indication
nothing could be easier than to find the dwelling of Mademoiselle Zinca
Klork, but nothing more difficult to reach, considering the block in
the roads in this outer ring.

A little before twelve I arrived at my destination. My vehicle had
stopped before a house of modest appearance, occupied by artisans as
lodgings, and as the signboard said more particularly by strangers.

It was on the first floor, the window of which opened on to the avenue,
that the young Roumanian lived, and where, having learned her trade as
a milliner in Paris, she was engaged in it at Pekin.

I go up to the first floor. I read the name of Madame Zinca Klork on a
door. I knock. The door is opened.

I am in the presence of a young lady who is perfectly charming, as
Kinko said. She is a blonde of from twenty-two to twenty-three years
old, with the black eyes of the Roumanian type, an agreeable figure, a
pleasant, smiling face. In fact, has she not been informed that the
Grand Transasiatic train has been in the station ever since last
evening, in spite of the circumstances of the journey, and is she not
awaiting her betrothed from one moment to another?

And I, with a word, am about to extinguish this joy. I am to wither
that smile.

Mademoiselle Klork is evidently much surprised at seeing a stranger in
her doorway. As she has lived several years in France, she does not
hesitate to recognize me as a Frenchman, and asks to what she is
indebted for my visit.

I must take care of my words, for I may kill her, poor child.

"Mademoiselle Zinca--" I say.

"You know my name?" she exclaims.

"Yes, mademoiselle. I arrived yesterday by the Grand Transasiatic."

The girl turned pale; her eyes became troubled. It was evident that she
feared something. Had Kinko been found in his box? Had the fraud been
discovered? Was he arrested? Was he in prison?

I hastened to add:

"Mademoiselle Zinca--certain circumstances have brought to my
knowle