One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. It is not at all comme il faut. So that it seemed to her the whole world had changed —the very light of it had changed. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. His pipe hung dead in his teeth, but the smoke was dense about him. It slid off flimsily. The boy she had loved was gone. " "A friend is not so soon gained as lost," replied Wood; "but how has the prediction been fulfilled, Joan, eh?" "I thought you would have guessed, Sir," replied the widow, timidly.
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