the
vessels stealing out upon the tide, a man walked briskly along Limehouse
Causeway, looking about him inquiringly, as one unfamiliar with the
neighbourhood. Presently he seemed to recognize a turning to the right,
and he pursued this for a time, now walking more slowly.

A European woman, holding a half-caste baby in her arms, stood in an
open doorway, watching him uninterestedly. Otherwise, except for one
neatly dressed young Chinaman, who passed him about halfway along the
street, there was nothing which could have told the visitor that he
had crossed the borderline dividing West from East and was now in an
Oriental town.

A very narrow alleyway between two dingy houses proved to be the spot
for which he was looking; and, having stared about him for a while, he
entered this alleyway. At the farther end it was crossed T-fashion, by
another alley, the only object of interest being an iron post at the
crossing, and the scenery being made up entirely of hideous brick walls.

About halfway along on the left, set in one of these walls, were strong
wooden gates, apparently those of a warehouse. Beside them was a door
approached by two very dirty steps. There was a bell-push near the door,
but upon neither of these entrances was there any plate to indicate the
name of the proprietor of the establishment.

From his pocket-book the visitor extracted a card, consulted something
written upon it, and then pressed the bell.

It was very quiet in this dingy little court. No sound of the busy
thoroughfares penetrated here; and although the passage forming the
top of the "T" practically marked the river bank, only dimly could one
discern the sounds which belong to a seaport.

Presently the door was opened by a Chinese boy who wore the ordinary
native working dress, and who regarded the man upon the step with
oblique, tired-looking eyes.

"Mr. Huang Chow?" asked the caller.

The boy nodded.

"You wantchee him see?"

"If he is at home."

The boy glanced at the card, which the visitor still held between finger
and thumb, and extended his hand silently. The card was surrendered. It
was that of an antique dealer of Dover Street, Piccadilly, and written
upon the back was the following: "Mr. Hampden would like to do business
with you." The signature of the dealer followed.

The boy turned and passed along a dim and perfectly unfurnished passage
which the opening of the door had revealed, while Mr. Hampden stood upon
the st