ry, or a
buyer of Chinese antiques, or has had an overwhelming desire to write
a book upon international politics, a desire springing from the depths
of gross ignorance. But after all, why not such a book? It reaches, if
it reaches at all, a public still less informed, and misinformation is
as valuable as no information at all, when we desire to interfere with
the destiny of the Chinese. In his leisure moments, Lawson had tried
his hand at such a book--until he suddenly realised that he had been
in the Orient too long to make it a success. He knew just a trifle too
much about affairs, and found himself setting forth facts which would
lead to his undoing, as a minor official in the International
Settlement--if he gave them publicity. He could not afford to lose his
position. And he was by no means sure that the deep, unerring sense of
justice, the innate instinct of the masses, would rally to his
support. He had his own opinion of the ruling classes, but he trusted
the masses still less.

It was a biting cold night, with a high wind from the north howling
down the long streets and whipping the waters of the harbour into a
fury. Junks strained at their anchors, tossed and heaved, and now and
then one broke loose from its moorings and wandered about adrift,
spreading infinite terror amongst the owners of other junks, who
feared for their safety. A cruiser or two lay in the roads, and the
French mail, and two or three Japanese cargo-boats, and half a dozen
tramp ships from the China Coast, but none of these were unduly
buffeted by the gale, which only created havoc among the junks and
sampans. Lawson's lodgings overlooked the harbour, and he laid down
his pen and moved from the table to the dark window, trying in vain to
see what was going on without. Below, the long line of the quais was
outlined by long rows of electric lights, swaying and tossing from
their poles, and illuminating the shining, wet asphalt of the Bund. He
was very, very tired of it all. So many years he had been out, and the
same monotonous round must be gone through with, over and over again,
day after day--until he made money enough to return home. And as a
salaried clerk, a court runner, whose duty it was to enforce the laws
against gambling in the Settlement, that day seemed very far distant
indeed. Whenever he heard of a fan-tan place--and he heard of them
every day--he must investigate, see that it was closed and the
keepers, if he was lucky enough