Do you remember what I said when you took me at the Mint four days ago? I told you my turn would come. A modest drinking bout which had its windup in a fan-tan house over in Kowloon, where O'Higgins tussled with varying fortune until five in the morning. Not much to his surprise, Jack Kimble shook his head. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. She was shaking violently when she entered the side door of the house. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair.
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