the Joy-Shop! Our chance to revenge poor Smith even if we could not
save him. I became conscious of an inward and suppressed excitement;
surreptitiously I felt the hilt of the Browning pistol in my pocket.
The shadow of the dead Fu-Manchu seemed to be upon me. God! how I
loathed and feared that memory!

"We can make no plans," I whispered to Fletcher, as together we rose
from the table; "we must be guided by circumstance."

In order to enter the little room laden with those sickly opium fumes
we had to lower our heads. Two steps led down into the place, which
was so dark that I hesitated, momentarily, peering about me.

Apparently some four of five persons squatted and lay in the darkness
about me. Some were couched upon rough wooden shelves ranged around
the walls, others sprawled upon the floor, in the center whereof, upon
a small tea-chest, stood a smoky brass lamp. The room and its
occupants alike were indeterminate, sketchy; its deadly atmosphere
seemed to be suffocating me. A sort of choking sound came from one of
the bunks; a vague, obscene murmuring filled the whole place
revoltingly.

Zarmi stood at the further end, her lithe figure silhouetted against
the vague light coming through an open doorway. I saw her raise her
hand, beckoning to us.

Circling around the chest supporting the lamp we crossed the foul
den and found ourselves in a narrow, dim passage-way, but in cleaner
air.

"Come," said Zarmi, extending her long, slim hand to me.

I took it, solely for guidance in the gloom, and she immediately drew
my arm about her waist, leant back against my shoulder and, raising
her pouted red lips, blew a cloud of tobacco smoke fully into my eyes!

Momentarily blinded, I drew back with a muttered exclamation.
Suspecting what I did of this tigerish half-caste, I could almost have
found it in my heart to return her savage pleasantries with interest.

As I raised my hands to my burning eyes, Fletcher uttered a sharp cry
of pain. I turned in time to see the girl touch him lightly on the
neck with the burning tip of her cigarette.

"You jealous, eh, Charlie?" she said. "But I love you, too--see! Come
along, you strong fellers...."

And away she went along the passage, swaying her hips lithely and
glancing back over her shoulders in smiling coquetry.

Tears were still streaming from my eyes when I found myself standing
in a sort of rough shed, stone-paved, and containing a variety of
nondescript rubbish. A