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. Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo. "And now, Sir," he said, preparing to take his departure, "will you add to the obligation already conferred by informing me where I can meet with Mr. I want to make my own selection. “You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter. “You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go.
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