ts bitterness. As I groped my way down the
stairs I was conscious of an uncanny silence, a silence eloquent of a
sleep that is as death, a sleep that always ends in death. It was easy
to conceive death as a hideous personality lurking at the bottom of
those rotten stairs, waiting patiently for his victims; not
constrained to go abroad for them, knowing that they were creeping to
him, creeping and crawling, unassoiled by priest, hindered by no
physician, unredeemed by love, deaf, and blind, and dumb!

* * * * *

At the foot of the stairs was another passage, darker and filthier
than the one above; the walls were streaming with moisture, and the
atmosphere almost unendurable. At that time the traffic in opium was
receiving the serious attention of the authorities. Certain scandalous
cases of bribery at the Custom House had stirred the public mind, and
the police were instructed to raid all opium dens, and arrest
whomsoever might be found in them. The devotees of the "pipe" were
accordingly compelled to lie snug in places without the pale of police
supervision: and this awful den was one of them.

It was now so dark that I could barely distinguish the outlines of our
guide, who walked ahead of me. Suddenly he stopped and asked me if I
had any matches. I handed him my box, which he dropped, and the
matches were scattered about in the mud at our feet. He gave me back
my box, and asked Ajax for his matches. I dare say older and wiser men
would have apprehended mischief, but we were still in our salad days.
Ajax gave up his box without a protest; the man struck a match, after
some fumbling lit a piece of candle, and returned to my brother his
box. It was empty--for he had cleverly transferred the matches to his
own pocket--but we did not know that then. By the light of the candle
I was able to take stock of my surroundings. We were facing a stout
door: a door that without doubt had been constructed for purposes of
defence, and upon the centre of this our guide tapped softly--three
times. It opened at once, revealing the big body of a Celestial,
evidently the Cerberus of the establishment. Upon his fat impassive
face lay the seal of an unctuous secrecy, nothing more. Out of his
obliquely-set eyes he regarded us indifferently, but he nodded to our
guide, who returned the salutation with a sly laugh. For some
inexplicable reason that laugh fired my suspicions. It was--so to
speak--an open sesame to a ch