, "and
here I've been sitting waiting for a policeman or someone to help me,
for more than an hour, I have."

Smith stood looking down at her, his arms behind him, and in one
gloved hand swinging the cane.

"Where do you live, then?" he asked.

"Not a hundred steps from here, kind gentleman," she replied in the
monotonous voice; "but I can't move my left foot. It's only just
through the gates yonder."

"What!" snapped Smith, "on the wharf?"

"They let me have a room in the old building until it's let," she
explained. "Be helping a poor old woman, and God bless you."

"Come along, then!"

Stooping, Smith placed his arm around her shoulders, and assisted her
to her feet. She groaned as if in great pain, but gripped her red
bundle, and leaning heavily upon the supporting arm, hobbled off
across the bridge in the direction of the wharf gates at the end of
the lane.

Now at last a little action became possible, and having seen my friend
push open one of the gates and assist the old woman to enter, I crept
rapidly across the crazy floor, found the doorway, and, with little
noise, for I wore rubber-soled shoes, stole down the stairs into what
had formerly been the reception-room of the Joy-Shop, the malodorous
sanctum of the old Chinaman, John Ki.

Utter darkness prevailed there, but momentarily flicking the light of
a pocket-lamp upon the floor before me, I discovered the further steps
that were to be negotiated, and descended into the square yard which
gave access to the path skirting the creek.

The moonlight drew a sharp line of shadow along the wall of the house
above me, but the yard itself was a well of darkness. I stumbled under
the rotting brick archway, and stepped gingerly upon the muddy path
that I must follow. One hand pressed to the damp wall, I worked my way
cautiously along, for a false step had precipitated me into the foul
water of the creek. In this fashion and still enveloped by dense
shadows, I reached the angle of the building. Then--at risk of being
perceived, for the wharf and the river both were bathed in moonlight--
I peered along to the left....

Out onto the paved pathway communicating with the wharf came Smith,
shepherding his tottering charge. I was too far away to hear any
conversation that might take place between the two, but, unless Smith
gave the pre-arranged signal, I must approach no closer. Thus, as one
sees a drama upon the screen, I saw what now occurred--occurred with
dr