The terror faded from her eyes. " "Proceed, Sir," said Trenchard, breathing hard. At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. “I wish you would not do it. He drew a little sigh of relief.
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