In fiction you make the Chinese secretive, criminal, and terrible—or comic. "No; we never had one; at least, I never saw it. ‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window. There'll be busy days and idle. The walls were bare, and painted in stone-colour; the floors, devoid of carpet; the beds, of hangings; the windows, of blinds; and, excepting in the thief-taker's own audience-chamber, there was not a chair or a table about the premises; the place of these conveniences being elsewhere supplied by benches, and deal-boards laid across joint-stools. He had always warned her explicitly about turning others into vampires.
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