d up the fretted entrance, and where,
overhead, faces peered from a balcony into the street. There was noise
enough there to attract any amount of attention. Smart carriages, with
white-uniformed _syces_, hurried up, bearing stout, plethoric men from
the wharf offices, and Mhtoon Pah saluted several of the sahibs, who
reclined in comfort behind fine pairs of trotting horses.

Their time for passing having gone, and the street relieved of the
disturbance, lamps were carried out and set upon tables and booths, but
a few red streaks of evening tinted the sky, and faces that passed were
still recognizable. A bay pony ridden by a lady almost at a gallop came
so fast that she was up the street and round the corner in a twinkling.
If Mrs. Wilder was dining out on the night of July 29th she was running
things close; equally so if she was receiving guests.

A flare of light from a window opposite fell across the face of the
dancing man, who pointed at Mhtoon Pah, and appeared to make him offer
his principal for sale, or introduce him to the street with an
indicating finger. The gloom grew, calling out the lights into strength,
but the concourse did not thin: it only gathered in numbers, and the
long, moaning hoot of an out-going tramp filled the air as though with a
wail of sorrow at departure. Lascars in coal-begrimed tunics joined in
with the rest, adding their voices to the babel, and round-hatted
sailors from the Royal Indian Marine ships mingled with them.

All up and down the Mangadone River lights came out. Clear lights along
the land, and wavering torch-lights in the water. Ships' port-holes
cleared themselves in the darkness, ships' lights gleamed green and red
in high stars up in the crows'-nests, or at the shapeless bulk of dark
bows, and white sheets of strong electric clearness lay over one or two
landing-stages where craft was moored alongside and overtime work still
continued. Little sampans glided in and out like whispers, and small
boats with crossed oars, rowed by one man, ferried to and fro, but it
was late, and, gradually, all commercial traffic ceased.

It was quite late now, an hour when European life had withdrawn to the
Cantonment. It was not an hour for Sahibs on foot to be about, and yet
it seemed that there was one who found the night air of July 29th hot
and close, and desired to go towards the river for the sake of the
breeze and the fresh air. He, too, like all the others, passed along
Paradise S