y, swept over my soul. I ardently desired the outside
air. It was possible that the Chinamen would mistake me for the
Mexican,--everything horrible seemed possible just then,--and it was
more than possible that the stairways would be closed while they were
hunting for the murderer. The man on the floor coughed a sickening
cough. I heard it as I fled, and one of his companions turned out the
lamp. Those stairs seemed interminable, and to add to my dismay there
was no sound of commotion in the house. No one hindered, no one even
looked at me. There was no trace of the Mexican. I found the doorway
and, my legs trembling under me, reached the protection of the clear
cool night, the fog, and the rain. I dared not run, and for the life of
me I could not walk. I must have effected a compromise, for I remember
the light of a street lamp showed the shadow of one half
skipping--caracoling along the pavements in what seemed to be an ecstacy
of suppressed happiness. But it was fear--deadly fear. Fear compounded
of past knowledge of the Oriental--only other white man--available
witness--three stories underground--and the cough of the Chinaman now
some forty feet under my clattering boot-heels. It was good to see the
shop-fronts and electric lights again. Not for anything would I have
informed the police, because I firmly believed that the Mexican had been
dealt with somewhere down there on the third floor long ere I had
reached the air; and, moreover, once clear of the place, I could not for
the life of me tell where it was. My ill-considered flight brought me
out somewhere a mile distant from the hotel; and the clank of the lift
that bore me to a bed six stories above ground was music in my ears.
Wherefore I would impress it upon you who follow after, do not knock
about the Chinese quarters at night and alone. You may stumble across a
picturesque piece of human nature that will unsteady your nerves for
half a day.

* * * * *

And this brings me by natural sequence to the great drink question. As
you know, of course, the American does not drink at meals as a sensible
man should. Indeed, he has no meals. He stuffs for ten minutes thrice a
day. Also he has no decent notions about the sun being over the yard-arm
or below the horizon. He pours his vanity into himself at unholy hours,
and indeed he can hardly help it. You have no notion of what "treating"
means on the Western slope. It is more than an inst