Their sampan grounded softly in malodorous ooze. Each mounting the bare
shoulders of a coolie, the two Europeans rode precariously to shore.

"My boys will fetch your boxes," called Heywood. "Come on."

The path, sometimes marshy, sometimes hard-packed clay or stone flags
deeply littered, led them a winding course in the night. Now and then
shapes met them and pattered past in single file, furtive and sinister.
At last, where a wall loomed white, Heywood stopped, and, kicking at a
wooden gate, gave a sing-song cry. With rattling weights, the door
swung open, and closed behind them heavily. A kind of empty garden, a
bare little inclosure, shone dimly in the light that streamed from a
low, thick-set veranda at the farther end. Dogs flew at them, barking
outrageously.

"Down, Chang! Down, Chutney!" cried their master. "Be quiet, Flounce,
you fool!"

On the stone floor of the house, they leaped upon him, two red chows and
a fox-terrier bitch, knocking each other over in their joy.

"Olo she-dog he catchee plenty lats," piped a little Chinaman, who
shuffled out from a side-room where lamplight showed an office desk.
"Too-day catchee. Plenty lats. No can."

"My compradore, Ah Pat," said Heywood to Rudolph. "Ah Pat, my friend he
b'long number one Flickleman, boss man."

The withered little creature bobbed in his blue robe, grinning at the
introduction.

"You welly high-tone man," he murmured amiably. "Catchee goo' plice."

"All the same, I don't half like it," was Heywood's comment later. He
had led his guest upstairs into a bare white-washed room, furnished in
wicker. Open windows admitted the damp sea breeze and a smell, like foul
gun-barrels, from the river marshes. "Where should all the rats be
coming from?" He frowned, meditating on what Rudolph thought a trifle.
Above the sallow brown face, his chestnut hair shone oddly,
close-cropped and vigorous. "Maskee, can't be helped.--O Boy, one
sherry-bitters, one bamboo!"

"To our better acquaintance," said Rudolph, as they raised their
glasses.

"What? Oh, yes, thanks," the other laughed. "Any one would know you for
a griffin here, Mr. Hackh. You've not forgotten your manners yet."

When they had sat down to dinner in another white-washed room, and had
undertaken the promised rice and chicken, he laughed again,
somewhat bitterly.

"Better acquaintance--no fear! You'll be so well acquainted with us all
that you'll wish you never clapped eyes on us." He drained