s own revolted him. The fingers were long, slender,
and hard. The skin was dry. It gave him an impression that there was no
flesh between it and the bones it covered.
"Steady, my friend," he muttered. "That's my money in your claw. Let's
have a look at you."
The other's squirming increased. The scream was not repeated. Only a
difficult, sobbing sound came recurrently from the man's throat.
At last Garth managed to twist the small wrist so that practically he
controlled the fellow's movements. Then he pressed the button of his
lamp. The light shone mercilessly upon an abhorrent face.
The skin was yellow, and tight, like parchment, across the high cheek
bones. The tiny eyes lay far back in rounded sockets. In the lamplight
they were deceptively reminiscent of the eyes of a cat. But it was on
the head, from which the hat had fallen, that Garth's glance lingered
with the most distaste. A queue was curled about it. It gave the last
touch to the fantasy of the snow, the mist, the deserted street of old
houses--a fitting setting for the night's vagaries.
For him the coil of hair gleamed like a serpent, carefully poised and
awaiting the most favorable moment for its stroke. As the yellow head
moved spasmodically the coil appeared to writhe. It provoked Garth's
imagination. With quiet eloquence it symbolized a vicious conservatism,
publicly dead. It suggested secret ceremonials in forbidden shrines. In
a broader sense it was the outward survival, properly snake-like, of
unconquerable and scarcely apprehended customs.
Garth shuddered. He found it more difficult than before to cling to that
bony hand. He arose, snapped off the light, and grasped the Oriental by
the shoulder.
"How did you know you'd find this money on the sidewalk?" he asked.
The other shivered, as if for the first time the cold had reached him.
"Talk up," Garth ordered. "Who's the fashion-plate that left it?"
The Chinaman made a last effort to escape. Garth subdued him.
"No talk-ee, eh? All right, little one. Then you'll have a nice free
ride downtown--just as a suspicious character."
For a possibility had occurred to him from which he shrank. Still,
since it existed, it dictated a clear enough duty. He stepped from the
areaway.
"Hustle along, sonny."
The other exploded into a torrent of Chinese. Garth understood not a
word, yet the shrill voice, rising and falling, cried to him a fear and
a despair that were tragic.
"Bluff away,"
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